The foyer was as fine as any English drawing room, with plush chairs, expensive drapery, and patterned wallpaper. Swirls of cigar smoke cast the room in a hazy, warm glow, and the sound of boisterous chatter came at me from everywhere at once. Men dressed in tailored suits and polished shoes lounged across several alcoves of comfortable seating, low coffee tables, and potted greenery. It was my father’s kind of establishment. A place to hobnob with the cream of society, rub elbows with the rich and landed, while bemoaning his needy wife and her penchant for pearls and gems. I could picture my father here, stone-cold sober, assessing weaknesses and waiting to strike. He’d use everything he learned at the table later.
The door swung shut behind me with an audible slam.
I knew the moment I was recognized.
A thick quiet settled over the room, choking all conversation. No one spoke for several heartbeats. It seemed I had greatly overestimated my charm.
“What the hell are you doing here?” a man asked, swaying slightly as he stood. I blinked against the stark red of his uniform. It seemed incredible that I had worn the same one for nearly seven years. His name came to me suddenly—Thomas something or other. He had a sweetheart in Liverpool and elderly parents who liked port after dinner.
“I’m looking for Leo,” I said nonchalantly. “Have you seen him?”
Several others stood, their faces turning red.
“The sporting club is formembersonly.”
“Not for bloody defectors,” another shouted.
“For shame,” cried one.
“I’m not staying,” I said over the outraged exclamations. “I’m looking for—”
“Whit.”
I turned toward a doorway leading into a narrow corridor. Leo slumped against the frame, shocked, as if he’d seen a ghost. He looked the same as the last time I’d seen him, the handsome bastard. Neat as a pin, shiny boots, pressed uniform. His black hair carefully combed back. I had no way of knowing what kind of welcome he’d give me.
“Leo, hello.”
His eyes flickered over the room, expression blank, but I caught his understanding of the situation. I felt, rather than saw, several of the men pressing close, surrounding me. They looked between us, assessing our degree of familiarity. Leo opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly, a calculating gleam in his eyes. I recognized it at once—was I worth owing him a favor? I was a man without country, my name worse than a muddy puddle. But he knew I had a talent for collecting secrets. I gave him a rueful smile, arching a brow slightly. My chest tightened, air caught in my lungs. All he had to do was extend a hand and I could remain, if only for a few minutes. I waited to see what my friend would do.
Leo averted his gaze.
It was another sentencing.
Rough hands reached forward, tugging at my clothes, yanking me back toward the entrance. I offered no resistance, even as someone shoved at my shoulder and another kicked at my shins. Rage pulsed in my blood.I held my hands up as I fought to quiet the beast roaring inside. The urge to defend myself nearly overwhelmed me. I could not give in to the impulse. They’d look for any excuse to drag my ass to the Cairo prison. I’d been there once, and I still recalled the vile stench, the oppressive weight of despair, the emaciated occupants. If I went inside, I’d never come back out. I knew that was exactly what they wanted.
Reckless Whit, losing his temper. Dishonorable Whit, attacking an officer.
If I reacted at all, any chance of marrying Inez would disappear.
And I needed to get married.
The officers dragged me to the front doors and threw me out. I landed hard on my hands and knees, the scrape of stone stinging my palms. I hauled myself to my feet as the men cheered and locked themselves away, singing merrily.
Bloody hell. Now what?
The sporting club was a short walk from the hotel. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and retraced my steps, my mind clouded with useless ideas. Leo wouldn’t see me—there went my witness. The army chaplain was out of the question, as was the license. Without that, I wouldn’t be able to officially register the marriage in Britain.
Shit, shit, shit.
I walked one block, mind whirring. I wasn’t on good terms with any of my other countrymen in Cairo. They were all dignitaries and diplomats, staunch imperialists who looked down their noses at men who couldn’t follow orders.
Footsteps sounded behind me, someone racing down the path.
“Whit!”
I stopped and turned, barely catching my grin. My old friend, coming through after all. Leo stopped, his neat hair not so neat anymore.
“That was stupid,” he said. “What possessed you?”
