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Her words lightened Rhys’s heart. Fiona was not meant to spend her days alone, and he told her as much as he took his seat again.
“Nor are you,” she said with a quirk of one brow.
His thoughts immediately flew to Helen. Where was she? Rhys had left a note informing her of his sister’s return. He thought she would have sought them out by now, or at least sent round a reply, but he’d not heard from her since returning to the hotel over an hour ago. He shifted on the chair, forcing aside his disquiet and returning to the questions that had been pouring through his mind since finding his sister.
“Why did you never return to the hotel after you recovered from your injuries? You would have been safe enough until I returned, and surely Shepheard would have extended credit.” Lord, but her face was a glorious sight. His heart pounded a fierce tattoo to know he finally had her back. He rubbed an impatient thumb at the sudden moisture in his eyes.
“I tried,” she said softly, and his brows dipped low. “I meant to leave St. George’s a few times, but I was always being watched.”
“Watched? What do you mean?”
Fiona refreshed their tea, and he stirred idly as she spoke. “No matter the time of day, there were always men just beyond the convent’s walls. The sisters said they’d never noticed them before, at least not until I arrived. I tried to leave with Sister Galyna once, but a man stepped from the shadows before we’d ventured beyond the cathedral doors. He came nearer with each step we took, but as soon as I retreated inside, Sister Galyna was allowed to pass. The Reverend Mother took the matter to the authorities, but they weren’t of any use and the men remained. As long as I stayed within the walls of St. George’s, I was left alone, and at least there I had the company and protection of the sisters.”
Rhys frowned. He supposed he ought to be thankful for the laziness of his sister’s captors, to leave her in the care of the convent until she was needed for his exchange with Akeem. He’d imagined the worst over the past weeks, and to know she’d passed her time withnunsset his heart at ease.
“These men who watched the convent… Did they include the man from earlier—the one with the scar on the side of his face?”
“I don’t think so,” Fiona said slowly. “I haven’t seenhimsince the day I was taken, although I could be mistaken. That day and the ones immediately afterward remain a bit of a blur.”
Rhys tried to be grateful that Fiona hadn’t been injured more seriously than she was. He’d gotten his sister back, which was all he’d ever wanted, but the Collector and Akeem were still out there. It was a fact that both terrified and angered him. It didn’t sit well that they should be permitted to go free after the crimes they’d perpetrated, but his priority must be getting Fiona safely back to England.
“What I don’t understand,” she said, “is how you’ve come to know so much about Egyptian artifacts? Truly Rhys, ‘the forgotten burial chamber of Queen Asana’?”
“Asata,” he corrected.
She quirked a brow at him. “Precisely.” Then her gaze narrowed. “Is it true that my amulet is part of this Pharaoh’s Trinity?”
Rhys couldn’t help his smile. Swallowing, he said, “There’s a lady you should meet. She can tell you everything you need to know about the Trinity and its curse. Did you know it holds a recipe for immortal life?”
A beat passed while Fiona studied him. Setting her spoon down slowly, she said, “A lady? What lady?”
Rhys snorted. “I speak of curses and immortality, and you ask about the lady.”
At the silent lift of his sister’s slim brows, he said, “Helen—Miss Corbyn, rather—is a scholar. She’s the one who recognized your amulet for what it was. When she returns, I’ll introduce you to her, for I know she’ll be anxious to make your acquaintance.”
Fiona was silent for a long moment before a grin split her face. “You’ve fallen in love.”
How could his sister have reached such a weighty conclusion from a mere handful of words? Rhys studied the plate of scone crumbs and wondered how long it would take to order a fresh tray. He shifted in his seat, and Fiona waited in the way she did until he felt compelled to answer. He’d never been able to keep much from her, nor she from him. It had always been the way between them, but he much preferred to be on the inquiring end of their exchanges.
“I suppose I have,” he admitted.
“Rhys,” she said earnestly. “That’s wonderful.” He frowned, and she said, “Why is that not wonderful?”
Rhys considered the days ahead and tried to imagine a future that included him and Helen together, on the same continent. The image wouldn’t come, no matter how hard he tried. Helen would remain in Egypt for the next months. Years, possibly. While their paths might cross occasionally as he pursued his railway investment, his life was back in England. He had investments there. A small estate in Surrey that needed his attention. Most importantly, a sister who required his escort home.
He felt as if he’d found the perfect lock and lost the only key. As long as he and Helen were set on different paths, the tumblers would never align and the lock would never open. He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to explain as much to his sister, but she merely scoffed.
“Since when has the lack of a key ever posed a problem?”
He smiled gently. “Some locks shouldn’t be cracked.”
Fiona watched him with knowing eyes, and he avoided her gaze. Finally, she laid her hand over his and said simply, “I know it will come out right in the end. Just as I knew you’d come for me at St. George’s. I told Sir Rupert as much.”
Rhys’s lips tilted in a slow smile before her words fully penetrated. The import of her statement settled on his brain, and his stomach twisted violently. “Sir Rupert? You spoke with him?”
“He came to St. George’s,” she said as she lifted her cup. “He’s the one who told us you’d returned to England.”
“When, Fiona? This is important.Whenwas he at St. George’s?”
