AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She smiled at me. “De rien.”
Colette secured the bustle around my waist and then buttoned me intothe dress. She’d chosen one of my favorite ensembles, perfect for a warmer climate and not so voluminous that I’d struggle getting around. The only thing I hated about it was the standing collar, which itched my neck. Not for the first time, I wished for the freedom of movement accorded to men by their comfortable trousers. My gown consisted of a linen fabric in the softest shade of blue that reminded me of a delicate bird’s egg. It had a matching parasol, ruffled and useless save for protecting my skin from the sun. Colette helped me lace up my leather boots and then sat me down to work on my hair. As usual this process took the better part of the morning. The curls wouldn’t be tamed and at last, Colette decided on a thick braid that she coiled on top of my head.
“I think you are ready, mademoiselle,” Colette said in a clear, accented voice.
She held out a handheld mirror and I studied my reflection. Somewhere in the crossing, I had grown up. There were hollows under my cheekbones. Hazel eyes that didn’t hide the grief I carried. Lips that hadn’t smiled or laughed in months. I gave it back to her, not wanting to see more, and stood up, feeling restless, yearning to go out and explore.
I was ready.
Crossing the room, Colette at my heels, I opened the door of my suite to find Mr. Hayes lounging in a narrow wooden chair reading a book. He looked up at my sudden appearance.
“I’m hungry,” I explained. “Am I allowed food or a scrap of bread, do you think?”
“Such dramatics,” he said with an eye roll to the heavens. “I would never let you inconvenience me by dying. I do have some scruples.”
“What do you know about scruples, except possibly how to spell it?”
He barked out a laugh. “I’ll order breakfast and tea. Or do you prefer coffee?”
“Café, por favor.”
“Fine,” he said, standing. He looked past my shoulder and switched to French. I understood nothing, but gathered he ordered Colette not to let me out of her sight. “I’ll return shortly.”
He walked away, cheerfully whistling. When he’d disappeared fully, I shut the door. I had minutes to make my escape. My pulse thrummed in my veins. I gathered my things: purse filled with piastres and my pencil and pad, parasol, and room key. Colette watched me, her eyebrows climbing up to her hairline and her jaw dropping at my quick movements. Before she could say or do anything, I slipped out of the room and promptly locked her in.
She banged loudly on the door, but I didn’t turn back.
The lobby teemed with guests heading toward the dining room. But mercifully, there was no sign of my jailor. Mr. Hayes might have already made his way inside, or perhaps he’d gone directly to the kitchens to place my breakfast order. It didn’t matter. I rushed to the front desk where Sallam stood, attending to a couple. He turned his face to meet my gaze.
“Can I quickly interrupt, please?”
The couple graciously moved to the side, and I stepped forward, holding out my room key. “I know this will sound incredibly strange but the lock on my door is faulty, and my poor maid is trapped within. Would you mind trying to open it yourself?”
“Of course!” Sallam rushed around the counter, my key tucked in his palm. “Shokran!”
He nodded and said something to an attendant nearby, who went to follow his order.
I turned away and dashed through the grand foyer, and out the double doors. Sharp sunlight hit me square in the face, but I hardly noticed. People sat at various tables situated along the front terrace, and down below the steps, the Cairo street held all manner of activity. Donkeys passed through, carrying travelers and packs alike, while horses pulled all manner of carriages. As quickly as I could, I made my way down to the wide avenue, my parasol swinging.
One of the hotel attendants dressed in the dark green kaftan saw my rapid approach. “Are you in need of transport, Madame?”
I nodded and he quickly secured a brougham, and then helped me climb inside. The driver closed the door and waited.
“Khan el-Khalili,” I replied with a nervous glance behind me.
A familiar figure materialized in the open frame of the hotel doors.
Mr. Hayes.
He stood scanning the terrace, his fists clenched. My heart slammed against my ribs as I sank back against the cushions, the window only partially hiding me from view. The driver nodded and moved away and the carriage rocked as he situated himself onto the seat, clicking his teeth. The reins snapped against the horse’s backside.
I chanced a look in the direction of Shepheard’s.
Mr. Hayes stared straight back at me. And he wasfurious.
“Go, please! Yallah, yallah!” I yelled to the driver. “Rápido!”
My transport lurched forward, the momentum pushing me backward. We moved quickly through the thickening traffic, making a turn and then another. I looked out the window, the breeze rustling my curls as my stomach dropped to my toes.
