The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [91]
He danced with his mother and with Mrs. Vandergelt, observed Nefret looking extremely bored as she talked with the Finance Minister, and escaped to the Long Bar. Maude and her “set” had not turned up, but he had a horrible premonition they would. Nefret had mentioned that the family meant to attend, and he had seen Maude glance in his direction. Or was he becoming one of those egotistical asses who thought every woman he met was after him? Not in this case, he feared. She was an embarrassment, and he didn’t know what to do about it. One couldn’t tell a perfectly harmless girl point-blank that she was a bore and a bother, and demand she leave him alone. Women had it easier. They could be as rude as the occasion demanded if a fellow was a nuisance.
If they were ladies, that is. If they were not, they were fair game for worse than boredom. No, women didn’t always have it easier.
He was brooding quietly over his whiskey when he heard a rustle of skirts and looked up to see Nefret.
“I thought you’d be here,” she said. “Move over.”
Before he could stand up she had squeezed in next to him on the curved banquette. He slid over and raised a hand to summon the waiter. That unfortunate individual looked wildly toward the bar, where Friedrich, the head steward, stood in lordly splendor. Friedrich shrugged and rolled his eyes. Women were not allowed in the Long Bar except on New Year’s Eve, but Nefret went where she pleased and few people had the courage to try and stop her. Certainly not Friedrich. Or Ramses.
“What were you brooding about?” she asked, stripping off her gloves.
“Women.”
“Any woman in particular or women in general?”
“What would you like to drink?”
“Champagne.”
“You had quite a lot at supper.”
“And I am going to have more now.”
“All right, one glass. You aren’t supposed to be here, you know; some stuffy sahib is sure to complain and then Friedrich will be in trouble.” He waved the waiter away and looked closely at her. The alcove was dark, lighted only by a candle on the table, but he could read Nefret’s feelings by the curve of her lower lip or the tap of a finger. “What’s wrong, Nefret?”
“Nothing’s wrong. What makes you suppose … Oh, curse it!”
The officer standing in the doorway was in mess kit—gold and crimson, sword and epaulets. He appeared to be looking for someone.
Ramses pushed the table away and stood up. “What are you doing?” Nefret hissed.
“What has Percy done, to make you so intent on avoiding him? It’s not like you to cower in corners.”
“I do not cower in corners!” Nefret got to her feet. She hadn’t answered his question, but he thought she clung rather more tightly than usual to his arm as they made their way to the entrance of the bar.
Percy greeted them effusively. “I saw the Professor and Aunt Amelia in the ballroom, so I thought you must be somewhere about. Miss Reynolds is looking for you, Ramses, old chap. You’ll give me a dance, won’t you, Nefret?”
“I promised the next one to the Professor.” She tugged at Ramses. “He’ll be looking for me.”
Percy followed them back to the ballroom. Emerson was nowhere in sight; he had probably gone out of the hotel looking for more congenial company among the vendors and beggars in the street. Ramses saw his mother dancing with Thomas Russell of the Alexandria police, and wondered if she was up to her old tricks, lecturing Russell about the inexplicable narrowmindedness of the police in refusing to hire women.
Then he caught sight of Maude, dancing with Geoffrey. They did not appear to be enjoying themselves; Maude’s eyes wandered, and Geoff looked bored. He hadn’t often accompanied the young Reynoldses on their social rounds, and Ramses wondered what had brought him out that night. He knew the answer, though. When Geoff saw Nefret his remote face brightened, and the moment the music ended he led his partner toward their group.
“I wasn’t aware that you were acquainted,