She worked up the courage to ask, “Have you known Lord Seton long? That is…how did your acquaintance come about?”
“Ah, there is a tale.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “It was some years ago, when Antoine and I were in Guatemala, on a diplomatic assignment. We were intrigued by the finds at Tikal. Do you know it? So strange, those buildings, almost like pyramids, lost in the jungle then uncovered—though the local people naturally knew of them all along.”
“And it was there you met Lord Seton?” Onora could hardly fathom it. He’d never mentioned such a thing though, in fairness, there were likely a great many aspects of his life about which she knew nothing.
“He was most fascinated, as many people were, especially those with an interest in ancient civilizations. Dr. MacGregor was there in a professional capacity. Klaus also. Such a clever man. Herr Müller is Swiss, not German, but he worked with Schliemann at one time.”
“Goodness!” Onora certainly knew of Schliemann’s work, excavating the ancient sites of Mycenae and Troy. “And the Misses Feathermount and the Colonel, and the Reverend and Mrs. Griffiths? Were they in Guatemala too?”
“At Tikal?” Madame Auvray gave a peal of merriment. “I cannot imagine it. These people Seton knows from England. They are, what do you say…funny birds? Though we are here together as guests of Lord Seton, and such trips are best enjoyed when everyone gets along. There is always something worth knowing about people, of course…and His Lordship has discerning taste. After all,chérie, we are both here, and what could be more discerning than that?”
Onoracould not help but smile. Perhaps these days ahead would not be so bad. It seemed that Virginie was determined to befriend her, and Onora had need of a friend. Perhaps, in time, she would confide some of what most worried her. It would be such a relief, to be able to speak of it with someone who would not judge…
Do not get ahead of yourself.
Onora reprimanded herself. As amicable as Virginie was, she really knew nothing of her. As tempting as it was to share her innermost thoughts, such openness mightn’t be wise.
There was one thing Onora knew she would never share—these dreams that came, night after night. Sometimes she was alone, sometimes there were others with her, but the sensations that ran hot through her body were always the same: torrid, sensual, and all-consuming. She was not herself, driven by desire which could not be abated—letting herself be caressed, touching others, doing things that shocked her waking self, almost as if she were possessed by something outside herself, urging her on to lurid acts.
There was no question, the dreams were becoming more vivid. Since she’d arrived in Egypt, they’d worsened immeasurably, so that she feared going to sleep.
Onora pulled herself back to the present moment. Madame Auvray was offering her more tea, and she accepted gratefully.
Before long the others returned from touring the tomb of Khufu, and there was a flurry of chatter. If any hint of disquiet entered Onora’s mind, observing the look exchanged between Lord Seton and Madame Auvray, she refused to acknowledge it.
CHAPTER 4
A week later
Sailing south from Cairo
Standing on the canopied top deck of thedahabeya, Onora breathed deeply from the breeze flowing across the river from the cooling desert. She loved this hour of the day, when the heat subsided with the sun’s descent, and the sand was bathed soft gold in rose-tinted light. Across the sky, amber and pink battled fading blue.
Some of the others were already gathering for pre-dinner drinks at the far end ofthe upper deck, snatches of conversation carrying over.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the sound of the lapping water and the whisper of the dense papyrus along the bank. Somewhere close by, a nightjar was performing its clicks and rattles. A warbler, pushing through the reeds, added its low call to the twilight melody.
A few minutes more.
I’ll have to join them, once Clodagh comes up from her cabin.
Seton had been most generous, giving her aunt a room of her own. Onora had foreseen having to share, as she had on the crossing to Alexandria. Having a space—however small—where she might close the door and be alone, was welcome.
The boat itself was far bigger than she’d anticipated, and elegantly equipped, with a plumbed bathroom, of sorts, and a sumptuously furnished saloon, which doubled as a library. Flat-bottomed, it had two main sails for propulsion, though the crew added their rowingstrength when the wind failed to co-operate. Sailing upstream as they were, the current was against them, making progress difficult at times, but she didn’t mind the slow pace. The near silent glide of thedahabeyawas preferable to the noisy, engine-driven paddle-steamers which ran a regular route down the Nile.
As for Seton’s guests, they weren’t so very awful. Some were friendlier than others, and they were a strange mix, of such different backgrounds and ages, but who was she to judge? Her upbringing, with the freedoms she’d been permitted, was enough for most people to think her an oddity, and her studiousness hardly improved things on that count, although Seton’s friends didn’t seem to hold that against her.
If she were honest with herself, she was growing fond of the Misses Feathermount, and the vicar’s wife was kind. The Doctor too, was a gentle soul, and very considerate with her aunt, though Clodagh must try his patience, wishing to discourse on the best treatments for chilblains and bunions and other, even more embarrassing ailments. TheColonel she was less sure about, his sense of humor being too ribald for her taste, but he was preferable to the far too serious Herr Müller.
And then there were the Auvrays.
Despite her initial warming to Madame Auvray, Onora was increasingly unsure of her feelings. The couple’s manners were impeccable. He was more inclined to listen than to speak, which she found refreshing, while Virginie was without condescension, despite being so very much above Onora in all the ways Society would admire. And yet, there was something which did not sit well with her.
Onora hated to admit it, but perhaps she was envious, for the two were obviously an excellent match, and Monsieur Auvray was so confident of his wife’s affections that he showed not the slightest degree of agitation when that lady practiced her charm upon the other men of their party.
Onora could not imagine herself so relaxed in Seton’s company, nor so impartial, wereher husband to indulge in the sort of flirtation evinced by Madame Auvray. Not that Onora had observed anything inappropriate in Seton’s response to Virginie, despite that lady’s over-familiar manner.
And if I did?
