“Caliph Rajih.”
Huntley made a sound of disbelief. “You are certain?”
Thomas nodded. “Aye.”
Dimitri turned to study the duke’s shocked expression. “Are you acquainted with him?”
“We attended school together,” Huntley admitted, his brows pulled together in a puzzled frown. “He is Egyptian, although he spent a good deal of his life in England and Europe until the past few years. From all accounts a favorite of Muhammad Ali Pasha.”
Dimitri sympathized with Huntley’s astonishment. “Why would he be interested in Sanderson?”
Thomas glanced about to ensure there was no one near. “When the females that Sanderson has been buying are no longer of value in London, they are taken to the slave markets in Cairo.”
“Bloody hell,” Huntley breathed.
A sudden chill arrowed down Dimitri’s spine and, barely aware he was moving, he had reached to grab the woolen scarf wrapped around Thomas’s neck, giving him a small shake.
“Where is the caliph now?”
With a practiced movement Thomas managed to free himself from Dimitri’s grip, his expression knowing.
“He sailed away from London three days ago.” The man rubbed his bruised throat, his eyes never straying from Dimitri’s tight features. “Along with a female who looked remarkably like the woman posing as your wife.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MUCH TO EMMA’S frustration the journey from Alexandria to Cairo was postponed for three days as Rajih had revealed a sandstorm was sweeping through the desert without warning.
Her patience wasn’t improved once they were aboard the shallow sailboat that carried them along the yellowish water of the Nile. There was a beauty to be found in the stunning scenery that slid past. The stark, reddish carpet of desert on one side and the rolling green fields on the opposite side. And most impressive of all the looming pyramids that made Emma want to pinch herself and ensure this was not all some strange dream.
At last they landed in Bulak and traveled to Rajih’s home on the outskirts of the old city.
Or at least, what he called a home.
To Emma the sprawling three-storied building with mosaic-tiled floors and delicate tapestries, as well as ornate chandeliers was more a palace than a simple home. She had counted three fo
rmal courtyards, a private mosque and a domed pavilion before being hurried into the private gardens surrounding the women’s quarters.
Behind the towering doors guarded by armed servants, Emma had found herself surrounded by a series of elegant apartments that framed the private baths. The floors were tiled with a lovely blue-and-ivory pattern while the walls were painted with frescoes that portrayed women bending at the feet of a long-forgotten caliph. Next to the vast gardens there was a charming room with low divans and gold-framed mirrors that reflected the vibrant colors from the blooms that spilled through the open archways.
Emma waited only long enough for Rajih to brush a light kiss on her cheek and warn her to stay out of the afternoon heat before sneaking out the back of the gardens.
Rajih was without a doubt a charming, well-educated companion who had treated her with tender care. In truth, he was precisely the sort of man she had dreamed of as a young girl in Yabinsk and if not for the aching concern for her sister, and of course, Dimitri Tipova…
She shut off her futile thoughts and quickened her step.
She was in Cairo for one purpose, and one purpose only.
Anya.
Clad in a traveling gown of pale lilac and a bonnet that possessed a thick veil to cover her face, she adjusted the small pistol she had brought from London that was tucked in the full sleeve of her gown.
She was not stupid. She understood that a woman traveling the narrow, dirt streets alone was foolishly dangerous, but what other choice did she have?
Rajih might be handsome and attentive and willing to indulge her in many ways, but to his mind she was a mere female who should bend to his will. He would conduct his search for Anya in his own manner and in his own time.
That was unacceptable.
Searching for the bazaars, Emma ignored the leers from the passing men as well as the shrill laughter from the women who leaned over wooden balconies to reveal their lush bodies barely hidden by the gauzy robes. In truth, she was more unnerved by the large dogs that darted among the crowd and the young men on donkeys who seemed intent on riding down hapless pedestrians.