“Thought you might enjoy it,” he replied, unable to suppress a smile. Her passion was contagious, if a bit predictable. “Let’s get checked into the hotel first, and then I’ll take you out on a bit of a tour later this evening.”
“That sounds lovely,” she told him, beaming.
After another ten minutes of walking through the city, they arrived at the Shepheard Hotel. The hotel was a large, multi-story structure with a sober, elegant facade that contrasted with the more elaborate local architecture. A long, shaded terrace ran along the front of the building, furnished with wicker chairs and tables, where guests could sip drinks and watch the stream of people on Ibrahim Pasha Street below. This elevated position created a sense of separation and superiority, allowing the European and American elite to observe Cairo from a safe, comfortable distance.
The entrance was equally imposing, set back from the pavement and approached by a broad set of steps. It was sheltered under an intricate, latticed canopy, supported by slender columns and guarded by small stone sphinxes. Wrought-iron balustrades and colorful Moorish tiles completed the look, making the hotel a world unto itself—a slice of European grandeur dropped into the bustling, exotic landscape of Cairo.
Eden wasn’t certain what she’d expected it to look like, but she was pleasantly surprised by its grandeur. This would definitely be a good base of operations for her time in Egypt. She glanced over at Mrs. Carlisle and could see the relief on her companion’s face as well.
“This will do nicely,” she told Max.
“It’s even more impressive inside,” he said with a smile.
Eden stepped into the lobby and was at once chilled by the shift from Egyptian sun to marble-cool air. Columns the color of bone, capped with blue-painted lotus petals, soared overhead, and the black-and-white floor was polished to a glare that forced her gaze upward to the stuffed crocodile over the smoking room, the palm-frond screens, and the European gentlemen caged in clouds of cigarette smoke.
They all paused and watched her as she crossed the lobby, each silently judging the red-haired Englishwoman in travel boots and a cashmere shawl. Eden stared back, refusing to back down. She didn’t care what any of them thought of her and her chances for success. She was confident in her abilities.
She handed her portmanteau to the nearest bellman—a boy in a crimson tarboosh whose only English was “Welcome, Lady!”—and followed him beneath the chains of wrought-iron lanterns to a reception desk manned by clerks in crisp blue jackets, each scented liberally with lemon cologne. She and her party waited for their turn, and her gaze darted about, her senses so overwhelmed that she couldn’t focus on any specific thing. This was exactly what she’d hoped for, and she still couldn’t believe she was actually here.
At last, one of the clerks motioned her to the desk.
She cleared her throat and stepped forward. “Lady Eden Pemberley, British guest. I’ll need three rooms, preferably on the top floor,” she announced, causing a brief flutter of commotion behind the desk.
“I have a suite with three bedrooms on the top floor,” the clerk told her nervously.
“That will do nicely,” Eden replied.
One of the clerks bowed low, produced a registration form, and gestured for her to sign. Eden obliged, her heart racing.
“Our luggage will be delivered from the train shortly,” Max said. “Please see it’s brought up as soon as possible.”
The clerk nodded. “Of course. Someone will see you to your suite.” He did not offer Max the honorific of “My Lord,” so the man obviously thought he was nothing more than her guide, which made Eden unexpectedly angry. Max was still the son of an earl. He deserved every bit of the respect that she’d just received. She wanted to demand he get his due, but she knew he wouldn’t thank her for it. He’d obviously shed that part of his life as easily as a snake sheds its skin.
She turned and found herself face to face once again with Sir Thaddeus Albright.
He bowed just low enough to be called mocking. “Lady Eden. I see we’ll once again be sharing accommodations. I trust you won’t be following me out to the desert as well.”
Eden decided he wasn’t worth the effort of sparring with. “I believe I was here first, Sir Thaddeus.” She bared her teeth in what passed, among the English, for a smile, and left him there, marinating in his own well-bred venom.
She and her party followed the bellman toward the lifts. Her hand went unconsciously to the small scar on her right palm, the one she’d gotten at twelve, prying at a stone in an old ruin she’d been certain had hidden buried treasure. The world might not be built for women like her, but by god, she would take her piece of it.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Max told her under his breath. “You’re worth ten of him.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, warmth filling her. He was right. She wasn’t going to let Thaddeus get to her. Not on this, her first day in Cairo.
The lift wheezed its way up to the fifth floor, the clatter of its gears nearly drowning the pulse in her ears. The corridor was lined with carpets so soft her boots made no sound, and every third door was guarded by a dried lotus blossom nailed abovethe frame. She wondered if it was to ward off the old ghosts or the new.
The bellman led them to suite 503 and, with a bow and an outstretched palm, waited. Eden smiled and tipped him more than was prudent. Egypt was making her feel magnanimous. He bowed again and left quietly.
“This is lovely,” Mrs. Carlisle said, looking around in obvious relief. “I wasn’t expecting anything this grand in this godforsaken country.”
Max crossed the large sitting area, which boasted high ceilings and the faint aroma of sandalwood, opening doors as he went. “All three bedchambers are nice,” he told Eden. “Which one would you prefer?”
She shook her head. “I don’t care.”
Mrs. Carlisle had been looking around as well, and she gestured toward the room she was standing in front of. “I think this one should be yours, my lady. It’s by far the largest.”
“Thank you,” Eden murmured, but she wasn’t really paying attention. She crossed to the window, which opened onto a balcony overlooking the city. Cairo sprawled below: minarets and domes, the Nile a dark ribbon in the dusk, the call to prayer rising from every direction.
