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She frowned at his choice of words but said, “I don’t think we suit, Papa.”
“Thorsby’s a respectable peer, despite his eccentricities.” Helen quirked an ironic brow at her father, who was known in London circles as a bit of an eccentric himself. “Nevertheless,” he continued wryly, “I understand he’ll return to Egypt soon. If you were to marry, his connections would be helpful to have in Cairo.”
“You would have me marry for connections?”
“I wish you to remain safe during your time abroad. A husband like Thorsby could assist in that regard.”
“Papa…” Helen shook her head. Her father had shown no particular preference for Lord Thorsby as a potential match for his daughter. That he was pushing her to encourage the man’s suit said much about his worries for her voyage.
“Have you truly considered the journey, poppet? It will be long and uncomfortable, and you know sea travel doesn’t agree with you.”
He wasn’t wrong, and Helen swallowed at the thought of the queasy days ahead of her. In the weeks since she’d accepted the professor’s invitation, she’d busied herself with the planning necessary for a year abroad. The flurry of activity had been as much to satisfy her need to prepare as to distract herself from the coming voyage.
Her family had traveled to Paris ten summers before when several of her mother’s paintings had been accepted by the FrenchAcadémie. For Helen, the journey had been an unmitigated disaster. She’d endured both the crossing and the return bent over a porcelain basin, and that had merely been a short trip across the Channel. It certainly didn’t compare to the weeks of ocean travel she was about to endure.
Helen hadn’t seen the land of the Pharaohs since her infancy, when her father had held a temporary post in Egypt, but she’d spent years studying its history. Her interest was far more than academic, though—more than she could satisfy with books and scholarly journals. She longed to experience the heat of the desert and the lush delta of the Nile. The food and the people and thelanguages! The contrasts of hot and cold, light and dark, new and old. How a body couldnotlong for such vitality was beyond her.
She craved Adventure. Yearned for it with a heat that set her heart to pounding and her blood to simmering. If returning to Egypt meant she must set foot on another ship, then she’d find a way to withstand the experience.
“I’ve considered the journey, Papa,” she said gently. “Mama never letmal de merkeep her at home, and I’m not about to give in to it either.”
Her father gazed across the room to where her mother watched them. The way his eyes lit on seeing her, even after nearly three decades of marriage, was precisely the reason Helen knew she and Lord Thorsby were not suited for one another. She’d have a love like her parents’ or none at all, and she’d begun to reconcile herself to the latter. Which was just as well, she reminded herself. With her travels to Egypt and her work with the professor, there’d be little time or opportunity for romantic distractions.
“You’ll write?” her father asked.
“I’ve told you I will. Every day if I can, but you know there’s only one post office in all of Egypt.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll expect regular letters. If I don’t have them, be assured I’ll book passage on the next ship for Alexandria.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Helen replied with a squeeze to his arm, warmed—if slightly vexed—by his concern.
“And you’ll be careful of the sun? You’ve your mother’s fair coloring, and she always burned easily in the Egyptian sun.”
“That’s because Mama always forgets her bonnet,” Helen said. Then, seeing the firm set to her father’s expression, she promised, “But I shall be careful of the sun.”
He rubbed his jaw. “And you’ve packed Wilkinson’s guide?”
Helen gave a short laugh, but she couldn’t help her appreciation for Sir John Gardner Wilkinson’s guidebook—the preeminent authority on all things Egypt—that her father had gifted her with the week before. “Papa! You know me. I’ve a trunk full of books. The porters will despise me, but I’ll be the most prepared Englishwoman ever to set foot on Egyptian sand.”
“Of course. What was I thinking?” He smiled, and his grey eyes crinkled at the corners in the way she loved. His smile faded then as he said, “Go do what you need to do, Helen, then come home safely to us.”
CHAPTER THREE
VALLETTA, MALTA
Four days. Rhys chafed at the delay. He’d been given a firm deadline for making his return to Cairo, and the consequences for failing had been explained in very clear terms.
He’d been fortunate to secure passage aboard the P&O Steam Company’sOriental. The seas had been smooth, the steam plentiful. Once he reached the Egyptian port of Alexandria, another few days’ travel should have had him in Cairo ahead of schedule.
It had all seemed too easy, so it was only fitting that theOrientaldeveloped a problem with the paddle shaft as it limped into port at Valletta. The paddle shaft sounded important, and he was certain he wouldn’t wish to travel without it, but now he was meant to sit on his heels for anotherfour dayswhile repairs were made. This new delay would be cutting things much too close.
He ran a hand through his hair as he stood in the harbor office. His French was abysmal and his Maltese negligible, so he addressed the P&O agent in broken Italian. “Isn’t there another ship bound for Alexandria?” he asked. “I don’t need a cabin. Deck passage is fine, or I’ll work if there’s a seaman who’s taken ill. It’s imperative that I reach Alexandria as soon as possible.”
The reed-thin agent with a reed-thin mustache looked up from his paperwork and shook his head. His reply came in near-perfect English, and Rhys tucked his Italian away to embarrass himself with later.
“The French have a packet bound for Alexandria,” the agent said, “but she won’t leave for another ten days. I suppose you could take passage on a merchant ship to Constantinople and make the journey by way of Syria, but you’d not arrive any sooner. You’ll do better to wait for the repairs to theOriental.”
The man turned back to his paperwork, ignorant or uncaring of the impatience that nearly choked the breath from Rhys. He closed his eyes with a sigh and forced the muscles in his neck to relax.
