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A young boy in light robes and sandals appeared before them, forestalling any response Rhys might have made. His dark eyes gleamed as he said to Rhys in an overloud whisper, “Now?”
“No,” Rhys said, waving the boy off.
Helen lifted her brows at Rhys, but he remained cryptically silent, and she allowed him to continue guiding them along the path. He kept them well in sight of the Tyndales on the veranda, and she was grateful for his consideration. He moved slowly, though, and she wondered if perhaps he was taking on too much after his injury.
“Should we stop to rest?” she suggested. “There’s a bench just ahead.”
He quirked an annoyed brow at her, and she hid her smile. But when his steps grew more measured, she became all too aware that she’d never thanked him for his actions at Sir Rupert’s villa.
“Mr. Evelyn,” she began.
“Rhys,” he said. “I much prefer it when you call me Rhys.”
Warmth filled her at such familiarity, but she relented with a short nod. “Rhys. I never thanked you properly for coming to our aid at Sir Rupert’s. For your courageous and selfless actions. If not for you… Well. I think the Flowerpot villain has much to fear.”
He snorted a soft laugh, his pale eyes shining with amusement. “I am relieved to hear it, but I didn’t invite you to walk with me so you might bolster my ego with your compliments.”
“Then why did you invite me to walk with you?” She was both eager and fearful to hear his reply.
He gave her a slight smile—if she didn’t know him to be confident and capable, she would have thought it the smile of an uncertain man. But instead of answering, he said only, “The view from here—it’s almost surreal in its perfection, don’t you think?”
Helen turned her gaze to the vista stretched before them. She’d not noticed how sublime the night was, so distracted was she by her worries over what Rhys meant to tell her. But now she noted the dense green foliage and colorful flowers that edged the gravel paths as palm fronds rustled overhead. The air was perfumed with the delicate aromas of jasmine and orange, mint and thyme, and the distant silhouettes of the great pyramids rose majestically beneath a heavy moon. Beneath it all lay the earthy scent of the Nile, which flowed lazily below the gardens as feluccas with their white sails glided along its surface. It was a scene to engage the senses and light the imagination, something straight from an exotic Orientalist painting orOne Thousand and One Nights, perhaps.
“It’s lovely,” she said breathlessly. She turned to see him watching her with a seriousness that caused her stomach to twist once more.
“The next steamer leaves for Alexandria at week’s end,” he said, and the ache in her stomach moved to her chest. She turned to face the river, keeping her gaze on the tallest pyramid jutting proudly from the horizon.
“I heard.”
“I began making arrangements for our return to England. My sister belongs there, and it’s my responsibility to see her returned safely.”
“Of course.” Helen pressed her lips and blinked. She would be fine. Rhys would return to England with his sister, and she would continue her work with the professor, exactly as planned. It was the reason she’d come to Egypt, after all. Perhaps, in a year or so, their paths might cross once more. The thought was but a poor, feeble attempt to soothe the growing fracture in her heart, and she swallowed.
“Shepheard’s maids have begun packing our trunks, but before I could send someone to purchase our tickets, I heard your voice.”
Helen turned to him. “Myvoice?”
“Yes, your voice, taking me to task for my high-handedness. For not consulting my sister on my plans for the two of us.”
Helen’s frown grew as did her confusion about where his winding path was leading them.
“So, I shared with Fiona my thoughts for our return.”
“And what did your sister say?”
He inhaled deeply through his nose. “She took me to task for my high-handedness.”
Despite the tears that welled just beneath the surface of Helen’s composure, she laughed. “I like your sister.”
“Yes, well, Fiona informed me that she plans to remain in Cairo for a time.”
“Whatever for? I would have thought her eager to leave the experience of Egypt well behind her.”
“That was my thought precisely, and I told her as much. It was the reason I wished to see her safely away from here so quickly. But my sister, it would seem, has developed an interest in the infirmary at St. George’s. She’d like to remain a bit longer to assist the sisters in their work.”
“Your sister has a charitable heart.”
“She does,” he agreed. “But what I’m trying to say, is that I won’t be returning to England straightaway.”
