Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [36]
• • •
Four
• • •
When I entered the Semiramis shortly after five I was met by the concierge, who informed me that Miss Minton had requested that I take tea with her in her room. Aha, I thought, I was right. She has something to tell me, or demand of me—some matter that requires privacy. This was not an ordinary social encounter. Not that I had ever supposed it was.
I took the lift to the fourth floor, where the safragi escorted me to her door. It was a pleasant little suite, consisting of parlor and bedchamber; the parlor also served as her office, for there were books scattered about and piles of papers neatly arranged on a table under the window. After she had greeted me and offered me a chair, Miss Minton sat down behind the tea tray.
“How do you take your tea, Mrs. Emerson? If I had remained in your household long enough to reach the exalted station of parlormaid I would know the answer, but—”
“Milk, please. I marvel at your audacity, Miss Minton. You ought to recall your shameless masquerade with embarrassment and regret, not make a joke of it.”
“Ramses did. At least I assume he was joking. Come now, Mrs. Emerson, it was a long time ago; haven’t you forgiven me for that harmless prank?”
“I am not concerned about the past, but the present. You haven’t changed your spots, Miss Minton. You would not have been so persistent if you only wanted to renew old acquaintances. What are you after now?”
“Straight to the point, eh?” She put her cup on the table and leaned forward. “Believe it or not, renewing old acquaintances was one of my motives. I was particularly curious to see Ramses.”
“You did more than look.”
“Mmmm.” The sound was like a cat’s purr. “I knew he must be a grown man by now, but who would have supposed that infuriating, unprepossessing little boy would change so much? He’s even handsomer than his father, and those shoulders . . .” She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips in an unseemly manner.
“You are certainly in a position to know,” I replied coldly. “What was the reason for that performance?”
“I have every intention of telling you. However, I beg you will allow me to tell it in my own way, without questioning or interrupting me. You have heard many strange stories in your time, I expect, but this is one of the strangest. Perhaps I should begin by asking if you will do me the honor of accepting a copy of my latest book.”
She handed it to me. “I haven’t inscribed it. You may keep it, give it away, or burn it, whatever you like; but first read the pages I have marked.”
“Now?”
“Yes, please. It won’t take long.”
A strip of paper indicated where I was to begin. I opened the book and glanced at the page. “It won’t be necessary for me to read it. I remember this scene very well.”
The lines in her cheeks deepened, forming an attractive frame for her firm mouth. “One of the most thrilling scenes I have ever written,” she said complacently.
“You used the word ‘silken’ twenty-six times.”
Miss Minton threw her head back and laughed. “And ‘voluptuous’ twenty-eight times. Very well, if my style offends you so much I won’t ask you to suffer it again. You recall, I am sure, that after requesting an interview with the Emir, I was escorted to a room in the palace where I remained for eight days, seeing no one except the slave girls who brought me food. I was treated with the utmost courtesy, but my repeated demands to see the Emir were ignored and I was prevented from leaving my room by guards outside the door—”
“Until, on the eighth night, three burly eunuchs—wearing silken garments—came and escorted you to the audience chamber where the Emir—swathed in silken robes—awaited you. You attempted to ask him about the political situation in central Arabia; he responded with fulsome compliments, his bold black eyes scanning your form. You persisted. He offered to show you his secret correspondence with the spies he had set on his rivals and on the Turkish governor. Fearing the worst but knowing you had no other choice, you accompanied him to a small chamber—”
“Voluptuously appointed