“She explained that. They were in the process of reconciling. From what she told me, her parents argued constantly, and they hated traveling around together. It doesn’t sound like she had a happy childhood, and the trip to Philae was her father’s attempt at making amends.”
Whit nudged a stack of books with the toe of his boot and stood up to pace the room, walking around the boxes and trunks and random objects strewn about. “How convenient.”
“All right,” I said, my eyes trailing after him. “Say she has a nefarious plan. What is it? Maybe she’s trying to overthrow the British monarchy.”
He glared at me. “Try to take this seriously.”
“I’m not used to seeingyouso serious.”
“Me neither; it’s quite tiring.” Whit sighed, glancing away, brows rising. “What have you done with my bedroom?”
“I think you meanourbedroom.”
Whit opened his mouth but abruptly closed it when Isadora returned with the tea tray. We busied ourselves with the making of it. I wasn’t particularly hungry, and it seemed no one else was, either, but there was comfort in performing a ritual, even one as ordinary as pouring tea.
When the cot arrived, Whit moved as much of the mess around as he could to clear enough space for it. He piled the crates higher and higher until they formed a half wall around our bed. I hid my smile at his attempt to create privacy in such a small space. Isadora automatically went to the narrow bed instead of the cot, settling onto it. “I think there’s just enough room for the both of us, Inez.”
Whit froze in the act of tossing the extra blanket onto the cot. He shot me an exasperated look, and he pointedly cleared his throat. But Isadora was vulnerable, and if this was what she needed, then I’d give it to her.
“It’s only for a night or two,” I whispered. “Until we can get larger accommodations.”
He grunted and threw Isadora a scowl as he settled onto the cot he’d set up in the corner of the bedroom. Like I’d thought, it was a tight fit, but I couldn’t see what could be done about it. We hadn’t gone to the central bank in Cairo to retrieve funds from my account. For one thing, there hadn’t been enough time, and for another, I wasn’t sure if my uncle still maintained control of my fortune, despite my marrying Whit. But we clearly needed my funds, if only to request a larger room.
I settled onto the narrow bed next to my sister—when would I get used to the revelation?—and she automatically curled around me, her hair partially concealing her face. She looked impossibly young and vulnerable. A protective instinct rose, and it was so similar to the one I’d felt for Elvira that unshed tears burned at the backs of my eyes. I would do whatever I could to help her. I would do whatever I could to stop my mother and her deplorable lover, Mr. Fincastle.
But first things first.
Tomorrow, I would make Whit take me to the bank.
WHIT
I woke up early, the room dark and silent, save for the two women sleeping, their soft breaths mingling. The cot made a miserable bed, and I let out a foul curse under my breath as I stretched, trying to unknot my sore back.
God, take me now. This was not how I imagined my reunion with Inez. But this was the last night I’d spend on this poor excuse for a bed, even if I had to drag Isadora out of the room kicking and screaming. I sat up and glanced in her direction. She was wrapped around my wife like a barnacle. I wanted to pry her arms loose, shake her awake, and demand the truth from her.
Because the chit waslying.
I had no proof—only instinct. It was what kept me alive in the war; it was what prompted me to go back for General Gordon, even when it was forbidden. I wouldn’t ignore it now, whatever Inez believed. She had a soft spot for Isadora—that much was clear—while everything inside me screamed her sister was a viper.
Suspicion curled tight in my chest.
Isadora’s father had kept a close watch on her during our time in Philae. I remembered them pairing off, engaged in private conversation. He had been affectionate with her when he thought no one was looking. But I was always watching. It seemed inconceivable to me that he would have locked up his only child in the temple, that he would have put her in harm’s way at all. Abdullah had recounted all the violence that had happened—some of our crew were shot when they tried to resist; others were bound and left to die out in the desert. Mr. Fincastle had either sent his daughter away before he’d actedorIsadora was a part of the plan.
It had never occurred to me to ask Abdullah which one it was. But he was now in the hospital hundreds of miles away, recovering. I’d have to send a letter or telegram and hope that he felt well enough to answer sooner rather than later.
I slid off the cot and padded to the small water closet, performing myablutions efficiently and quietly. A talent courtesy of the army. I was conscious of the mirror hanging above the washbasin, but I carefully avoided it. I hadn’t been able to look at myself in the mirror since I’d married Inez. I clutched the edge of the porcelain basin, my knuckles turning white. It took me several minutes to gather myself.
I had time. Plenty of time.
But even with the reminder, I still couldn’t look at myself in the mirror.
Morning light had finally dawned in the small room, illuminating my wife, curled on her side, her wild hair blooming around her like spilled ink. I left without another look in her direction. The corridor was empty, which I preferred. Mornings were my favorite part of the day. For a long time, I didn’t let myself enjoy them. Too much drink made sure of that.
The dawn had been tainted from my stint in the militia.
The terrace had many open tables, and I picked one closest to the balcony overlooking the gardens, my back to the wall. It was a cool morning, and when the server came to take my order, I requested my usual pot of coffee. While I waited, I meditated on the problem of Isadora and what the hell I was going to do about it. Abdullah would have to be questioned again. Ricardo wouldn’t trust Isadora, either, but I debated the wisdom in including him. Inez might feel ambushed and less inclined to trust my instincts if I was aligned with her uncle. Their relationship was already complicated enough.
To say nothing of what he thought of me.
