Chapter Five
Dust danced through shafts of sunlight, turning the paneled showroom of Trevithick & Hawke’s on Haymarket a glowing golden hue. Max unrolled the map pouch across a counter pocked with generations of scars, beside a dozen water-skins and some iron-tipped pickaxes.
Once he’d committed to leading Eden’s expedition, he’d thrown himself into it absolutely. He’d been gathering supplies all day. Though he’d get most of what they needed once they arrived in Cairo, this high-end expeditionary outfitter had the things he wouldn’t trust to the bazaars in Cairo.
He glanced at Lucas, who was lingering over silk evening shirts. A humorless grin tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I’ll be needing any of those.”
Max had dragged his friend shopping with him this morning, deciding that it was the least the bastard could do. Truth be told, he was happy for the distraction. As long as he was trading barbs with Lucas, he didn’t have to think too much about what lay ahead.
Lucas laughed and threw one on top of the pile anyway. “You never know. You might have an occasion to dress formally.”
“I will be acting in the role of Eden’s guide,” Max said, grabbing a pair of collapsible brass sextants from a side shelf. “Not her escort to social events.” He added a few boxes of ammunition to the pile, resolutely practical.
“Trust me, it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Lucas retorted.
Max gave a sharp, derisive snort.
They walked to the front, where an over-eager clerk wrapped up their purchases with thick twine.
The door’s brass bell chimed as they stepped out into the bracing London afternoon, their arms full. Max felt the weight of Lucas’s gaze on him, considering, measuring.
“What?” he asked finally, when the silence stretched too long between them. “I don’t like it when you’re quiet.”
Lucas arched an eyebrow. “You doubt my ability to remain silent?”
“More your inclination.”
His friend stopped, turning to face him. “Do you really think you can keep her safe? Now that I’ve set you on this path, I’ve realized that perhaps I should have thought it through a bit more.”
Max’s immediate reaction to that was to hear his father’s voice, who’d forever doubted him.
He wanted to lash out, tell Lucas that if he doubted his abilities, he could find someone else to accompany his cousin to Egypt, but he forced himself to look at the situation from a perspective other than his own.
Lucas was worried about Eden’s safety, and his fears were justified.
“As well as anyone can,” he said at last. In all honesty, he had no idea what they’d face once they got there, and he certainly couldn’t promise that nothing would go wrong. “I’ll do my very best.”
Lucas sighed and ran his hand through his dark hair. “Well, I suppose that’s all I can ask.”
They continued walking until they reached the telegraph office, the dark paneling a twin to the outfitter’s store, the warmth suffocating compared to the brisk air outside. Light flickered from coal lamps, and Max’s eyes took a moment to adjust.
He fired off some terse instructions he’d written in advance to his preferred Bedouin crew, arranging things once they reached Cairo.
Lucas didn’t ask about the messages, and Max offered nothing, grateful, for once, that his answers weren’t in demand because he hated explaining himself. They shook hands and parted ways, then Max hailed a hansom cab and loaded all his packages inside.
Back in his cramped set of rooms above The Smuggler’s Lantern, Max lowered the heavy parcels to the floor.
He sat at his narrow writing desk, the single candle flickering in the draft coming from the lone window, and wrote more letters.
There was much to do and not a lot of time to do it.
Given Eden’s insistence that they be at the dig site at the new moon, they’d have only a week or so in Cairo before they’d have to head out to the desert.
And that was if the rest of the journey went to plan.
Soon, he found himself staring at the wall, cursing himself for having agreed to this.
It could only go badly. He was almost certain of it.
So why did he feel so compelled to risk his very life in pursuit of it?
And why was he so ridiculously excited to spend time with the woman who had broken his heart so irrevocably?
He signed the last letter with a force that snapped the quill’s point, a neat fracture that matched the sharp edges of his impatience. He decided to go out and mail the letters now, because he couldn’t stand the quiet confines of his room any longer.
His retreat took him past the tavern, loud with evening patrons already well in their cups. He found himself slowing, sitting at the bar, and ordering a pint.
The first few drinks went down far too easily as he reached for that state where he wouldn’t have to think about any of this. Perhaps one more...
But then he sighed and set the mug down. He’d let himself get lost in alcohol too many times in the past few weeks, which was unlike him, but he’d been so adrift, longing to feel something, even if it was just numbness.
Well, he was certainly feeling things now, and he no longer wanted to escape them.
Besides, there would be no place for oblivion on the dangerous journey he was about to undertake. He’d have to remain sharp every step along the way.
He paid and left his half-drunk pint to grow warm as he stepped out into the frigid night once again to mail the letters.
Two days after Eden’s meeting with Max, Genevieve, the Duchess of Ashbourne, arrived in London by carriage, disembarking before Eden’s townhouse in a swirl of silk and vibrant determination.
She was one of Eden’s very best friends, the owner of Willoughby Hall, and if it weren’t for her, Eden didn’t know what she’d have done after Richard’s death.
She’d stepped in and given support and friendship to Eden, Daphne, and Lavender, turning them into a family.
But Genevieve was also a force to be reckoned with and never more so than when she thought one of her chicks needed saving.
Eden watched from the window, turning to Daphne with an exasperated sigh. “What on earth did you tell her to bring her here from her son’s estate in such a rush?”
Daphne shrugged, looking a bit guilty. “I just told her you’d found someone to lead your expedition.”
Before Eden could say more or prepare for the onslaught, Genevieve breezed into the drawing room. “It’s worse than I thought!” she declared, her green eyes alight with chiding warmth.
“London or me?” Eden retorted, meeting her friend with a fond embrace.
“Both!” Genevieve said, her laugh a bright prelude to the interrogation Eden knew was coming. “Did you truly find some brigand to lead your expedition? Eden! Why didn’t you tell me there was a lost love in your past?”
Eden glanced over at Daphne. “Just look at what you’ve done.”
Daphne shrugged unapologetically. “I needed her to come talk some sense into you since you’re not listening to me.”
“Should I expect Lavender to arrive next?” Eden asked with a sigh.
“No, we decided Lavender had enough to worry about,” Genevieve replied with a shrug.
Eden couldn’t help but feel ganged up on.
Since she’d come to an agreement with Max the other night, she’d begun to move forward with her preparations.
The Winter Dig Season would soon be upon them, and she had much to do if she was going to make it to Cairo in time.
The last thing she needed was for her friends to try to talk her out of going.
“Daphne’s beside herself,” Genevieve said, her eyes full of concern as they all sat down around the tea service that had just been brought out. “She fears you’re throwing away your sense along with your reputation.”
Eden threw an accusing look at Daphne, who just stared back, completely unashamed.
“And what do you fear?” Eden asked Genevieve, feigning indifference as she poured tea, her hand not quite steady.
“That you’ll end up a cautionary tale, written about in some scandal sheet,” Genevieve said, accepting the cup. “All for a mad escapade with an equally mad man.”
“Then you’ll be pleased to know that this is no mad escapade. I’ve been planning it for years, as you well know,” Eden replied, though the sharp edge of her words softened. “And Mr. Thorne is entirely sane, I assure you.”
Daphne’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Are you entirely certain of that? Last I saw him, he was drowning in self-pity and dockside whiskey. He made it quite clear that he had no interest in helping you.”
The image stung, making her recall the bitterness of their first encounter and the guarded determination of their second. “He’s changed his mind,” she said simply. “And you know how badly I want this, how long I’ve been searching for someone to guide me.”
Genevieve watched her closely, the tension of unasked questions filling the room. “So you intend to go through with the expedition?”
“I do.” Eden’s voice was steady, but the weight of her friends’ disapproval hurt. “I’ve done nothing but prepare for this ever since we met. You’ve both been so supportive the entire time. Was that only because you never actually thought I’d manage to do it?”
She wished Lavender were here. Lavender believed in her. She was fairly certain of that, though at this point, how could she know for certain?
Daphne set down her cup, looking guilty.
“Eden, please don’t be angry with us. We love you, and this whole Egyptian expedition was exciting in the abstract.
I have loved listening to you talk about it.
But the thought of you leaving the country, in the company of a man like this Max Thorne. .. It terrifies me!”
“A man like Max Thorne,” Eden echoed with a trace of disdain. “The son of an earl, educated at Oxford? A decorated war veteran? A man I’ve known since I was a child? If he is mad, then perhaps some madness is just what I need.”