The Passion of Cleopatra (Ramses the Damned 2)

Many guests here Julie simply didn't recognize at all. But this didn't surprise her.

Edith had invited not only her close friends, but many acquaintances as well. After all, whether they realized it or not, those present were more than guests. They were witnesses. Witnesses with a tendency to gossip, and countless social connections to whom they would soon spread the tale of the happy couple and their beautiful engagement party. Edith had also shown no desire to enforce a strict guest list. Let the fashionable painters and writers bring their friends. As Edith saw it, if some meddlesome member of the press decided to show up, so much the better. Let them write a story about the happily engaged couple enjoying a breezy afternoon in the Yorkshire countryside. It would make all those lurid tales of stolen mummies and mysterious deaths easier to forget.

This party wasn't about privacy or exclusivity. It was an announcement. Not just of their engagement, but of their new stability.

But, of course, Edith had another motive, Julie was sure. To show to the world her family possessed no hard feelings over Julie and Alex's aborted engagement. And no doubt a number of future brides for Alex were in circulation, with Edith spending more than a few moments with each.

For most of the party, the string quartet had transitioned from Mozart to Haydn and back again. But the handsome black musicians from America had finally arrived, and the delightful sound of ragtime piano and horns now filled the air. Julie wanted to dance. She knew perfectly well Ramses was dying to dance, before she caught his glance and wink. But there was no dance floor at the party, and it was just as well. Ramses was too easily given to dancing madly for hours without cease.

The music wasn't so loud that Julie couldn't carry on a conversation, and now, she could even hear Ramses a few paces away. He had finally mastered the art of presenting his tales of ancient Egypt as the result of academic work and not lived experience. Gone was his tendency to discuss long-dead historical figures with bracing familiarity, as if they were old friends. Which, in many cases, they were. For the next few hours, he would be Reginald Ramsey, the Egyptologist, Julie's strikingly handsome fiance.

It was dreamlike, this party. Dreamlike and perfect and everything she'd hoped it would be.

"You will stay in England, of course," the woman she'd been chatting with said to her now. Perhaps she sensed Julie's mind wandering, which made Julie feel terribly rude. "No more of all these travels, I'm sure. Not with a wedding on the horizon."

What was the woman's name? Julie had already forgotten. Geneve or something of that sort. Her gown was frilly and white with sleeves of sky blue; her hat was compact, one of the smaller ones on display, and so clustered with white feathers they looked like balls of cotton. Her husband was a quiet man. He studied Julie with unnerving intensity. And earlier she'd seen the two of them showing familiarity to a giant bearded fellow, who must have spent a small fortune obtaining such a fine suit tailored to his great frame.

They both wore sunglasses, just as she did.

"I'm afraid we haven't set a date," Julie answered. "And I can't imagine a better way to spend an engagement than traveling the world. Seeing its wonders. Enjoying them on the arm of your true love."

"How delightfully eccentric," the woman said.

"Yes. I'm terribly sorry, but I've forgotten your names."

"Callum Worth," the man said, extending one hand quickly, as if the gesture might distract from his wife's rudeness. "And my wife, Jeneva."

"And you are friends of the Countess of Rutherford?" Julie asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Jeneva said. "But as I'm sure you know, this party's not only the talk of Yorkshire. It's the talk of London as well. So you must forgive us for requesting an invitation through mutual friends."

"Mutual acquaintances is more like it," Callum added.

"Such an intriguing courtship, you and Mr. Ramsey!" Jeneva continued as if her husband hadn't spoken. "And we're all quite sure the tale of how you two first met is equally intriguing. You can't blame us for wanting to learn more."

"You must forgive my wife, Miss Stratford. She does love a good story."

"It is people that I love, Callum." The woman had tried to put conviction behind these

words, but she'd fallen short, and the resulting moment was a frigid one, as her husband gave her a look that seemed full of reproach. Perhaps her self-proclaimed love of people rarely extended to him.

"Indeed," he added quickly. "Now, Miss Stratford, I'm hoping we can enlist you in a little plot."

"A plot?" Julie said. "Sounds intriguing."

"You see, we do feel a bit sheepish about having invited ourselves to this little gathering, so we thought we'd purchase a gift for the countess."

"I'm sure Edith will be delighted," Julie said.

"Indeed, but we'd like it to be for her husband as well, although I'm told he's occupied currently with business on the Continent."

Mustn't discuss Elliott with these, or any, strangers. Not until she had some greater awareness of what he was up to.

"What sort of gift?" Julie asked.

"We were told there's a replica of a Roman temple on the property designed by the Earl of Rutherford himself. We thought we might give him a bit of statuary to go with it. If you can give us a tour of it, it will help us select something suitably regal."

"But we'd like to keep our intentions a secret for as long as we can, you see," Jeneva added.