The coffee came, and I took the first heavenly sip. Dark, nutty, no cream.
But then someone sat onto the wicker chair opposite mine, surprising me, and I was never surprised. He wore his clothing stiffly, as if he would have preferred something other than starchy cotton and pressed trousers. He smiled at me in greeting, and even though it had been years since I’d seen him, my words came out angry and accusing.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
Porter raised his hand, signaling to the waiter. “Are you hungry?”
I folded my arms across my chest, panic licking at my edges. But I refusedto let him see. I shook my head. The server came and Porter ordered his breakfast: boiled eggs and two slices of toast. Plain, no butter. He never allowed himself any indulgences. Like Father.
Except when it came to playing cards. Father wasn’t so sanctimonious then.
“I’m here to collect,” Porter said in his damnably calm voice when we were once again alone.
“Collect—” I repeated.
Jesus. When I’d sent the telegram, I hadn’t thought my brother would act that quickly, or that he’d come to Cairo himself.
“You explained your new situation in the telegram before your last.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice hard. “But that wasn’t an invitation to come visit. I’m still working on it. The matter is quite delicate, and if I fuck up, we’ll be worse off. I’ve only just—”
“It has to be today.”
His words rushed around me, a furious bee storm.
“It can’t be today. It can’t be tomorrow. It can’t be this month, Porter.” I clenched my jaw. “They’ve lived in that crumbling house for years. Another year won’t kill them.”
“Anotheryear,” Porter repeated faintly.
“Tell them to sell my piano if they need the cash.”
“Already sold.”
Years of training kept me from flinching. “Fancy that.”
“Along with the rest of the paintings and copper cookware and brass candlesticks,” Porter said. “Before you ask, there’s no more money I can give them.”
Ihadbeen about to ask. Porter had been married off years earlier to an heiress when he was barely eighteen. He and his wife were estranged and living entirely separate lives. To my knowledge, Sophia didn’t even live in England.
Which I knew Porter preferred, even if our father had tried to cut him out of their life from the ensuing scandal.
“And need I remind you who else lives in that crumbling house?”
I flattened my mouth. “She’ll survive another year. She’ll have to.”
“The roof is leaking,” Porter went on. “They’ve let go of the staff. Only the cook remains.”
I had a plan, and I meant to stick to it. I tried to block out his words, but they seeped through.
“All the jewelry is gone,” Porter said. “Anything valuable. They reached the end of the road. Theyallhave. It’s why I’m here.”
“This may come as a shock to you, but I do have a strategy.” I dragged a hand down the length of my face. Then I tossed some bills onto the table and stood up, my brother stumbling after me, awkwardly pushing back his chair. I was moving before I knew where I wanted to go. I only knew that I had to get inside.
“Well, what is it?” he called from behind me.
“Everyone will get what they want.” I shook my head, my blood rushing to my ears. “Porter, I need more time.”
He caught up and regarded me with his head tilted to the side. We were similar in appearance, like looking in the mirror. Same color hair, same pale eyes. But somehow, I took after my mother, and he took after my father. Porter had more hard lines to him than I did, and he was thinner.
