The viscount accepted a glass of wine from a silent slave, and raised it in toast to the earl. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “I should forgive, finally, all that happened so long ago. The woman Giovanna—her hatred is chilling.”
“I should be pleased if you would, Edward. It would be an excellent idea, I think, given that we shall be like to share many grandchildren in the future.”
“Not in the too near future, I hope,” the viscount said.
“My sentiments exactly,” the earl agreed.
&
nbsp; “Giovanna’s son, Kamal—what will become of him? I gather that he is innocent of his mother’s deeds.”
“I am not certain,” the earl said. “Arabella wishes him for a husband. Yes, it is a problem, is it not?”
“You could not allow it. The man is a foreigner, a Muslim.”
“At this point, I don’t know what he is. If he is as honorable as Hamil said, I fear that it will be he who will refuse Arabella. When Hassan returns, allow him to show you to a chamber, Edward. I think I shall speak to the young man.”
Not long thereafter, Ali bowed the foreign gentleman into his master’s private bathing room. Kamal had just emerged from his bath. He stood naked at the edge of the pool, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, even when Ali spoke to him. “Highness,” Ali repeated.
The earl studied the young man. He was tall, well-formed, a handsome man, but that, the earl knew, was of little importance. He carried most of his father’s features, save they were refined, purified. His body looked taut, pain emanating from him.
“What is it you want, Ali? And do not call me ’ highness’ anymore.”
“One of the foreign gentlemen to see you.”
Kamal turned around, then stood very still, his eyes locked on the earl. Very slowly he wrapped a towel about his waist and nodded dismissal to his servant.
“Your daughter lied to you, my lord,” he said. “She is not as she was.”
“My exuberant daughter is no longer a virgin?”
“No, she is not.”
“Well, you still live, Kamal, so you must please her.”
Kamal touched the healing wound on his shoulder. “She is unlike any other woman I have ever known.”
“My son tells me you were educated in Europe?”
“Yes. I had not thought to return to Oran until the supposed death of Hamil. Then I had no choice.”
“No, I suppose not. Duty is a stern taskmaster, I have always found. Pride is another.”
Kamal turned away from him, his jaw clenching. “Your daughter must wed a man of her own rank, an Englishman, a man whose honor is unquestioned.”
“My daughter refused such a paragon. It is you she wants. I have found that when Bella makes up her mind, an earthquake would have no effect. Do you not love my daughter? Do you wish to live as a Muslim and remain in Oran?”
“I wish you to take your daughter back to where she belongs.”
“You know,” the earl said gently, “you cannot be blamed for your mother’s deeds. Her bitterness does not touch you. What is more important is that you must not blame yourself.”
Kamal waved away his words. He said very calmly, “I want Arabella’s happiness. I would appreciate it, my lord, if you would take her back to Genoa as soon as possible.”
“She will not understand.”
“She will do as you and I bid her.”
“Damnation,” Adam said. “What are you going to do, Father?”