Occurs directly after Lord of the Silent.
All rights to characters, places, and story themes belong to the author of the Amelia Peabody Series, Elizabeth Peters. I am merely borrowing them.
I've never known anyone to be so irritating, thought Sethos in response to the woman that was making her way towards him. He had paused to be greeted by the host, whom he could never recall the name of, in the entrance to the dining salon of the Luxor Hotel. While the gentleman welcomed him back, Sethos had surreptitiously glanced around the room to ascertain that the Emersons, younger nor older, were not lying in wait for him. Amelia had always declared that she would know him anywhere, and in any disguise, and it would seem that her doppelgänger, Margaret, could now also make that distinction. Fortunately for him, Amelia was not waiting for him. Unfortunately, Margaret was.
He had known it was foolish of him to return to the role of the Honourable Edmund Whitbread, but he knew it would be suspicious if he disappeared after keeping a room rented, especially with the concierge and several others expecting his return. It was dangerous to leave loose ends with the games he now played. There was only one reason why he had not already packed up and left Luxor, and that reason was his comrade, Algernon Bracegirdle-Boisdragon, or as Amelia called him, Mr. Smith. He had sent a coded telegram to Algernon a few days previous with a time in which to meet. The 'where' however, had already been decided. Both men had been staying at the Luxor Hotel playing the roles of tourists, and where better for acquaintances to have a friendly chat, but in the dining salon. It would be much less conspicuous for them to be caught dining together than engaging in a private discussion in some back-alley. Sethos had arrived a quarter of an hour early, hoping to dispel any assumptions of weakness from Algernon. He knew it would not be wise to showcase any symptoms of sickness. Thankfully he had recovered from his recent bout of Malaria, but the sickness had taken its tole, however, and he had needed to use extra padding and other cheap tricks to disguise himself as proportionally as before. Even if they were on the same side of this war, he refused to give anyone any reason to doubt his competence.
Margaret had been sitting alone at a small table with her back to the wall - before the host was able to finish his greeting, she rose from her chair and strode across the salon with purpose, her eyes flashing with fury. That fury was somewhat justified - he had left her at the mercy of the Emersons, sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night like a common thief. He refrained from dwelling on the guilt he felt for that, knowing that he could not, and would not, be accountable to anyone.
"Miss Minton!" He exclaimed jovially as she bore down on him. "How good to see you again." He prayed that she would not cause a scene.
"I knew I would find you here! After everything that has happened, you ju..."
"Why don't we take this conversation out into the garden. It's a beautiful day." He spoke with an authority that cut her off mid-sentence. He took her by the elbow and led her away from the onlookers. He expected her to pull away and start shouting again, but she simply allowed him to lead her onward, through the lobby and out the door that led outside. Thankfully the sun was moving high in the sky, forcing most of tourists inside in the search for shade and refreshment, leaving the gardens relatively empty. He led her to a bench in the middle of a patch of bright flowers. As he sat, he pulled her down with him, hoping they appeared as normal as possible.
The moment they sat, she pulled her arm away. "You don't have to treat me like a child."
"Evidentially, I do. Did it ever occur to you that raising your voice in the middle of a crowded place makes you memorable? And being the object of your wrath, includes me in the gossip people will now be spreading." He kept his voice low, but did not hide the anger he felt. If the wrong person heard that his character was being accused of scorning a woman journalist, after all the work he had put into building his charade of the wealthy, generous, and above all, honest tourist, he could end up in a jail cell, or worse.
"You didn't have to run out on me, on all of us, like that. Do you know what it is like to wake up to find that the sick and injured man we have been painstakingly trying to help has vanished?" She kept her voice as low as his, but the venom in her voice betrayed her underlying fear. She knew what he was - a thief and a spy - and yet, she seemed to think him an honest man. Oh, he tried to be honest, at least in his personal life, but this was not personal. This was business. Only one other man understood the risks that came with the job, that man was his nephew, Ramses. He had hoped that when his extended family woke to find him gone, Ramses would take care to explain the reasoning behind his devious actions.
"I would appreciate if you refrained from accosting me in public in the future. You may know me while in disguise, but if anyone were to figure out that I was not who I seem to be, I can assure you I would not be around long enough for you to exact your own revenge. If you demand an explanation for my leaving, I suggest you talk with Ramses. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." He emulated the venom in her voice, hoping to frighten her. He stood to leave.
"It would take more than a bit of anger to get rid of me... I will not go to Ramses for answers, I want them from you. It would cause you a whole lot less grief if you agreed to speak to me. If not, I swear to you..."
He cut her off again, "You swear what? To cause me trouble? My dear Margaret, you've already caused me enough trouble to last a lifetime. Do you still have your room here? Good. Go upstairs and wait for me. I will come to you when I can. I cannot, however, promise you that you will like the answers I have to your questions." He began to walk back to the dining salon. He hoped Algernon had not beaten him there, he did not wish to excuse his slower-than-usual gait.
"Do you promise you'll come?" Margaret called after him. He turned his head slightly as if he were going to look back at her but did not. He felt as if she were questioning his character. He continued walking away, deciding not to dignify her question with a response.