WELCOMING A GUEST
Meanwhile, on the second floor
Ertugrul stepped into the guest bedchamber and stopped short. Given everything David had told him about bedchambers in London townhouses, he had expected a room half the size and only a bed and a dresser.
“Oh, dear. I suppose you’re used to something far more elegant than this,” Elizabeth said from where she stood next to the door to the dressing room.
“Oh, no, my lady,” he responded, his gaze darting about in wonder. “This is... is this the master suite, perhaps?” he asked in alarm, fearing his host had given up his room to him.
“This is the guest bedchamber,” she assured him. “It is about the same size as my husband’s,” she acknowledged proudly. “I had this room and the bathing chamber constructed from two bedchambers a few years ago. When we added the plumbing for bathing water,” she explained. She opened the dressing room door. “There are hooks in here for anything you wish to hang, and the bathing chamber is through that door there,” she said as she waved a hand to the adjacent corner. “Elkins will see to it there’s a fire at night for warmth, of course, and should you require a valet, we can see to hiring one.”
Ertugrul’s attention had gone to the crown mouldings and the painting on the ceiling. “I didn’t realize private rooms were so well decorated here,” he murmured.
Grinning, Elizabeth relaxed. “Not all of them, I suppose. I do hope you’ll be comfortable here,” she said as she moved to the set of chairs that were set in front of the fireplace. She repositioned a small pillow and then nudged the mantel clock so it was centered beneath a painting.
Chuckling, Ertugrul glanced out the window next to where he stood, attempting to determine which direction was east. Despite the white Austrian sheers framed by dark blue velvet drapes, he could make out the back garden below. “I shan’t want to return to Constantinople,” he replied.
A pair of footmen appeared, the sehzade’s trunk held between them. They followed Elizabeth’s direction, placing it along the only open wall next to the largest dresser. Another followed with a valise and then paused to ask if anything else was required.
“That will be all until dinner at seven,” the viscountess replied. As the servants bowed and took their leave, Ertugrul continued to examine the furnishings, his hands smoothing over the velvet counterpane and a marble-topped nightstand. A quick glance out the other window showed the telltale signs of sunset, the twilight sky not yet claiming the last of the sun’s light. His gaze darted to the head of the bed and back to the window.
“The bed is set on the south wall,” Elizabeth stated, realizing he was trying to determine directions. “My husband thought you would prefer sleeping east. Facing Mecca? Is that right?”
Ertugrul’s eyes widened. “Indeed,” he said. “It is kind of him to have seen to the arrangement.” Now that he knew which direction was east, he visibly relaxed and then remembered something he had promised Charlotte he would pass along. “My stepmother wished for me to convey her glad tidings and appreciation for you hosting me,” he blurted.
Elizabeth inhaled softly. “I received a letter from her only a few days ago. How is she?”
The sultan’s son contemplated how to respond. “I think for a time, she was... a duchess out of place,” he replied, understanding her query for what it was. “But now that she has learned her way around the palaces and is familiar with the servants and has made friends with my father’sikbals.... she is a sultana. And a very doting mother,” he added with a grin. “My youngest sister is now my favorite.”
The viscountess regarded her guest for a moment before nodding. “Believe me when I tell you that I feared greatly for her. I felt somewhat responsible, you see,” she said as she settled onto the front edge of one of the chairs, the skirts of her gown spreading out in a fan.
“Responsible?” he repeated as he joined her.
“Lady Gisborn and I are the ones who encouraged her to take a holiday to Greece and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies,” she said. “I have been to Italy twice. My mother was born in Rome, so I have family there, you see,” she explained. “I thought she would be perfectly fine given the arrangements that had been made on her behalf.”
Ertugrul took the other chair, his brows furrowing. “You could not have known her ship would be taken by pirates,” he said as he shook his head. “Or that her destiny was to be with my father.”
Elizabeth gave a start. “Destiny?” she repeated, sounding surprised.
“Fate?” Ertugrul offered, thinking he had used the wrong word. “Perhaps I do not know the correct English word.”
Tittering, Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Whatever it was that had those two meeting was doing its job,” she murmured. “Charlotte seems very happy.”
“As is my father,” Ertugrul stated. “He has youthened as well. Although he sometimes complains of aches in his joints when it is damp or cold, the troubles that used to vex him are no longer so troublesome to him.”
Elizabeth angled her head to one side. “So... Ziyaeddin feels affection for her?”
Ertugrul blinked. “He loves her. He would not have divorced his first wife and given up his concubines if he did not.”
Her eyes rounding at hearing the conviction in the sehzade’s voice, Elizabeth’s gaze darted to the fireplace and then to the clock. “Oh, dear. I planned to have dinner served at seven o’clock,” she said. “Which doesn’t give you but an hour to dress.” She stood. “My apologies, Your Eminence.”
“Please, call me Ertugrul, and I do not heed an hour to dress, my lady,” he assured her.
Elizabeth paused on her way to the door. “Then when you are ready, come to the parlor down on the first floor. We’ll have coffee and some walnuts before we go into the dining room,” she said.
“I look forward to it,” he said as he bowed.
Curtsying, Elizabeth took her leave and shut the door behind her.
Deciding he had enough time—the sky was growing dark behind the two windows—Ertugrul fished his prayer rug from his valise and rolled it out over the Turkish carpeting. Removing his shoes, he knelt and said his prayers.
