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After hushed greetings were exchanged by Tyndale and Akeem, during which Rhys gathered the two had previously met in London, he bit out, “Why are you here, Akeem?”
“He’s come for the Pharaoh’s Trinity, I imagine,” Tyndale said, to which Akeem nodded gravely.
“Hehasthe Pharaoh’s Trinity,” Rhys said tightly. “Or at least part of it. This is the man who had my sister.”
Tyndale’s frown was immediate, and Rhys was relieved to know that although the older man was acquainted with Akeem, he’d not known of the man’s involvement in Fiona’s kidnapping.
“Your consul-general has stolen one of the wings from us, and I mean to take it back,” Akeem said. “Although,” he added with a smirk, “I appreciated your story, Evelyn. The tomb of Queen Asata was a nice touch, though a bit overdone, I should think.”
Rhys’s jaw tightened until he thought his teeth might crack. Akeem’s accent, which Rhys had known to be heavy and uneducated, had taken on a distinct, learned quality. The man almost sounded intelligent, but that didn’t erase the fact that he’dkidnappedRhys’s sister.
“Us?” Rhys said. “For whom, precisely, do you work?”
“I work for no man,” Akeem replied in whispered affront. “I serve only Egypt.”
Tyndale’s frown eased enough for him to explain, “Akeem Effendi belongs to the Order of Osiris. The governor has tasked the Order with the noble aim of—”
“—of preserving Egypt’s heritage,” Rhys finished. “I’ve heard.” Noble aims or not, his fist itched to land in the man’s face for the trouble he’d caused, for the ordeal Fiona had suffered.
Akeem must have intuited his thoughts for he took a step back. “I was not at liberty to reveal my association with the Order. There is much more at stake here than a stolen artifact or two. The Order has been seeking a means to stop the Collector for some time now.” At Rhys’s deepening scowl, he added, “And your sister came out well in the end. Er, mostly unharmed, that is.”
“Despite your efforts,” Rhys hissed. He would have said more, but he pressed his ire down as two guards appeared ahead. The three of them ducked deeper into the shadows.
“You’re mistaken,” Akeem said when the guards had passed. “How do you think your sister found her way to the convent at St. George’s? She’s more pleasant when she’s unconscious, by the by.”
Rhys stared at the other man, frowning. He’d have the full story from him, but first he had to get inside Sir Rupert’s villa. Seeing Helen safely away from the consul-general was paramount. Although it nearly choked him to do so, he asked Akeem, “Do you know a way inside?”
Akeem’s expression turned wary. “Why haveyoucome, Evelyn? You have your sister, unless you think to steal the wing as well?”
“I don’t care about the bloody wing,” Rhys bit out. “We believe Sir Rupert has Tyndale’s wife and another lady inside.”
Akeem frowned. “This other lady—she has hair the color of dried chilies?” Rhys nodded, and Akeem snorted a soft laugh. “You have trouble keeping up with your women, Evelyn, but they’re here. I saw them through the drawing room window earlier. And yes,” he said, “I know a way inside once we’re over the gate. Come with me.”
——
Helen mentally reviewedthe contents of her reticule for anything she might use for a weapon. She’d given Wilkinson’s book to Rhys, otherwise, she might have launched it at Sir Rupert’s head or hidden a dagger within its pages. But alas, she wasn’t in the habit of carrying weaponry about. It was a miscalculation she would rectify as soon as she and Mrs. Tyndale were safe once more.
They’d remained well past the social hour, but every time they moved to take their leave, Sir Rupert protested. And whenever Sir Rupert protested, his men would stand straighter at the door—there were two of them now, effectively blocking the exit.
Sir Rupert’s Moorish servant had come to light the gas lamps, and several branches of candelabra also burned to dispel the growing shadows in the drawing room. Nothing, though, could dispel Helen’s unease.
Sir Rupert had repeatedly asked her about the Pharaoh’s Trinity. With each stroke of his mustache, he wished to know what she had heard of the legend or where she thought the pieces might be found. She felt like a mouse with its tail trapped beneath the cat’s paw, and she’d had enough.
“Sir Rupert, we really must be going now.” He’d just requested the tea things be refreshed, and Helen meant to leave before they were forced to endure another round of biscuits with their interrogation. As expected, Sir Rupert’s men straightened, intimidating with their height and fierce expressions. As Helen and Mrs. Tyndale neared the exit, the men moved together, obstructing their way.
“Stand aside, please,” Helen said in her best granddaughter-of-an-earl voice.
The nearest man looked to Sir Rupert, who shook his head.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave just now,” the consul-general said. “Not until you tell me more of the Pharaoh’s Trinity. I wouldn’t have thought a female—and an English female at that—would be so learned on the matter, but I suspect you’re not the typical English female, are you?”
“I assure you, Sir Rupert, I don’t know anything more than what I’ve already told you,” Helen protested. When he merely lifted a disbelieving brow, she added, “You can’t simply keep us here.”
“Can’t I? I’m the consul-general.”
“And I’m the granddaughter of an earl,” Helen reminded him. “It will be remarked upon if I disappear, and Mrs. Tyndale’s absence won’t stand either. Her husband is quite established in academic circles.”
“My dear, people disappear in this country all the time. Bandits, don’t you know.”
