Page 68 of A Modest Independence

I suppose we could marry and settle down to a brood of children, she’d said.

The phrase had been ricocheting around in his head since first she’d uttered it.

He’d told her on the train that he had no wish to marry. It hadn’t been entirely true. Not when it came to her. With every mile they traveled, he wanted more of Jenny Holloway—more of her confidences and more of her kisses. When she’d uttered those fateful words, his heart had given a leap of furious joy.

Yes, he’d wanted to say. Please.

But he hadn’t done. He’d simply held her hand as if he’d never let her go, knowing all the while that the train was taking them closer and closer to the end of their…whatever it was they were doing together.

It seemed inadequate to call it a romance. And he certainly couldn’t think of it as a love affair. Thus far, they’d been chaste.

Thus far.

Tom tugged at his collar. The darkened streets of Cairo were narrow and unpaved, the carriage bouncing sharply along, jostling Jenny against his side at every turn. She briefly rested a hand on his thigh to brace herself. He sucked in a breath, feeling the fleeting contact everywhere.

Jenny didn’t appear to notice. “It’s a pity we won’t be here long enough to go to the bazaar and the Turkish baths. And I’d dearly love to visit the pyramids.”

“At this stage,” he grumbled, “we shall be fortunate to make it to our hotel in one piece.”

Ahmad cast him a perceptive glance. It only served to irritate Tom further.

“I thought I caught a glimpse of them as the train approached Cairo,” Jenny went on. “They were visible just outside of the right window. Did either of you see them?”

“It was dark,” Ahmad said.

“Too dark,” Mira agreed.

Jenny sighed. “Yes. But I was sure I saw something.”

“Perhaps,” Tom said, “it was a mirage brought on by hunger. We’ve had nothing but cake and nuts since Alexandria.”

“You’re probably right. We must have a proper dinner when we arrive at the hotel. Traveling brings on a furious appetite.”

Shepheard’s Hotel was a grand Cairo establishment, known far and wide for its opulence. They arrived to find musicians playing in the illuminated court at its front. A smattering of people were seated at outdoor tables, the smell of smoke and the echo of conversations in English, French, and Arabic swirling up into the night.

After checking in at the desk, they dined in Tom’s hotel room, along with Mira and Ahmad, too exhausted to stand on ceremony. Waiters garbed in clean-pressed linen served them soup, fish, and boeuf à la bourgoise, followed by salads, fruits, and Turkish coffee.

Jenny ate with unabashed enthusiasm, but when she was done, she didn’t linger. She bid Tom goodnight and disappeared with Mira to her bedroom across the hall.

Tom was left alone with Ahmad, who once again gave him a look that was all too perceptive.

“Not a word,” Tom warned.

Ahmad was a taciturn fellow at the best of times, but he had, after all, spent years working at Mrs. Pritchard’s establishment. Lord knew what pearls of wisdom he might dispense on the subject of gentlemen who grew too infatuated with a particular lady. He’d likely seen all manner of fellows making fools of themselves.

“There are murmurings among the servants,” he said.

Tom rested his head in his hands. By God, he was weary. “What kind of murmurings?”

“Suspicions.”

Tom wasn’t entirely surprised. He could only wonder that it had taken them so long to voice them. “Anything specific?”

“That you don’t look like your sister.”

“Half sister.”

“Shall I remind them of that fact?” Ahmad asked.