“Thank you,” Eden replied, her accent clipped and perfect. She passed the declaration forms across the table.
The next obstacle was the baggage line. A porter trailed behind them with their personal trunks. The rest of their baggage would be delivered to their hotel later. At the head of the queue, a customs clerk in a stained waistcoat waved them forward.
“Inspection,” the man demanded, gesturing at their luggage.
Max opened the first trunk, revealing its ordered contents—books, writing paper, and several changes of linen. The clerk poked through it with a short, dirty stick, then moved on to the next, eyes lighting briefly at the silver-tipped walking cane Eden had brought from London.
“Special fee for this one,” the clerk said, holding it up. “Antique, yes?”
Mrs. Carlisle bristled, face coloring. “That’s Lady Eden’s property. She’s a lady of the peerage!”
The clerk grinned, showing brown teeth. “Lady pay, or cane stay.”
Before Mrs. Carlisle could say more, Max stepped forward, his voice cold as gunmetal. “Put it down.” He didn’t raise his volume—he never needed to—but the clerk faltered, returned the cane to its place, and busied himself with the paperwork. Max slipped a few coins onto the edge of the table and watched as the necessary forms were stamped with exaggerated care.
He handed the slip to Eden, who tucked it into her reticule without comment. Only then did Max allow himself to breathe,feeling the heat and dust settle into his skin. He hated the bribes and the show of power.
Beyond the customs shed, the broad-gauge railway carriage stood waiting at the wooden platform. Lines of passengers clustered around two chalkboards, each listing the next trains to Cairo. A brass band hammered out a martial anthem that might have been “Rule, Britannia!” It was hard to tell given the unsteady tempo and the sour notes.
Max secured their luggage with a porter and then led the way through the throng and up to the ticket office, where a man with a meticulously curled mustache sold them three places on the express.
“Leaves at noon,” the man said, eyes darting between Max and Eden. “Second compartment—very best. For British.”
Eden smiled, faint but genuine. “I suppose we’ll see about that,” she said, voice pitched for Max’s benefit.
He had always liked her sharp tongue. No, he mustn’t think of her tongue.
Max fished in his pocket for the tickets, passed one to Mrs. Carlisle, and tucked the remaining two into his breast pocket.
They had three hours to wait. Max suggested a walk, which Eden accepted without hesitation. The three of them strolled the length of the platform, careful to avoid the donkey carts and the shouting newsboys hawking papers in Arabic, French, and English.
At the far end, a battered sign advertised an “English Tea Room.” Max eyed it skeptically. “Tempted?”
Eden laughed, a short, soft sound. “I didn’t come to Egypt for weak tea.”
He found a bench in the shade, and they sat while Mrs. Carlisle fanned herself and continued to look miserable. The chaos did not seem to be helping her anxiety. The city buzzed with the kind of energy Max remembered from his firstcampaign—an endless churn of bodies, voices, and smells, all competing for space and advantage. He caught Eden watching him, her gaze probing.
“You’re at home here,” she said.
He shrugged. “Nowhere’s home anymore, really. But I don’t mind the sun. Beats this time of year in London. It’s unbearable in the summer, though.”
They sat in silence a while, listening to the distant tolling of a bell and the clatter of hoofbeats on the road beyond the rail yard.
Eden nodded her head back the way they had come. “Thank you,” she said. “For getting us through that mess with minimal fuss. I’m afraid that without you, they’d have robbed me blind. I had no idea it was going to be like that.” He could tell it pained her to admit it, so he resisted the urge to tell her that he’d told her so.
He gave a small shrug. “They do things differently here, that’s all. Once you know the game, it isn’t too hard to navigate your way through it.”
She gave him a small smile. “Well, I appreciate it anyway. I’m glad you’re with me.”
“I’m glad too,” he said lightly.
Ever since she’d come to his room during the storm, they had managed to find a tentative peace. They’d successfully reverted to the friendship they’d once shared, and he was grateful for the easy camaraderie. The emotional tension he’d dreaded after their kiss had not materialized, even though he thought about it all the time and suspected she did too. Instead, there were jokes and intellectual sparring, and Max found himself relaxing into their old rhythm. He might even venture to say that he was enjoying himself, which was a dangerous realization.
Still, he shuddered to think of what would have happened to her if she’d attempted to make this trip with someone who didn’thave her best interests at heart. They weren’t even to the difficult bits yet.
At last, Eden glanced at her pocket watch, then tucked it away. “We should head that way. Wouldn’t want to miss the train.”
Max rose, stretching the ache from his back, and offered her his arm. She took it, and together they made their way to the train.
