Ginger made it a few feet out of her father’s office before she stopped and supported her weight against a table near the wall of the vestibule. She gripped the smooth marble top.
In a few days, her emotions had crested and dipped in every imaginable way. The main door to the house was twenty feet away. What would happen if she walked through it, without looking back? Would her father or Henry come after her?
Where would she go?
She couldn’t expect to survive with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Still, the door beckoned her. She imagined running through it, onto the street. She’d lose herself in Old Cairo, wander the citadel, watch the sunset over the Nile. And she’d wait for Noah to join her. He’d hear through social channels that Lady Virginia Whitman had gone missing, and he’d search for her.
She might have done it, if she believed Noah would find her, as he’d done in the desert.
She laughed scornfully. Her eyes fixed on the newspaper on the table. The butler had left it for her father. The temptation to throw it into a fireplace crossed her mind. Disrupt even the slightest routine in her father’s perfectly ordered life. Make him realize she wasn’t worth the trouble. Maybe he’d let her go free.
She straightened.
No, Noah wouldn’t come for her. Here she was, wanting to save his life, and she didn’t even know how to find him. Was he still in Port Said? She didn’t know. He worked for her father, but unlike Henry, who occupied a desk in a cramped suite at the Savoy Hotel in Cairo, Noah worked in the field. His assignments were covert, based on specific intelligence-gathering needs, and he answered only to his superiors. He could be anywhere.
If her father hadn’t suspended him.
There had to be some way to warn him.
She needed to be rational and calm. Henry had just been joking. She’d seen the way he acted around Noah. They were friends.
But what if he meant it?
Her fingertips wrinkled the top page of the paper, the ink smudging her hands. She stared at it, unblinking, solutions escaping her. A headline caught her eye. ‘Nighttime Air Raids in Gaza Prove Successful for RAF.’
She scanned the article. Nothing about the dispensary’s destruction. Nothing about the threats of the German airplanes on the clearing station, or the raids at Rafah.
The article claimed the Royal Air Force had taken out targets in Gaza, which hadn’t happened.
Ginger stepped back, the distinct newspaper smell clinging to her fingertips. Tension rose in her shoulders. It was a pile of lies.
But why? Why would the local paper downplay British losses and setbacks and instead claim progress?
“Ginger, darling.” Her mother’s voice broke her train of thought. Ginger followed its direction to the staircase. The sight of her was achingly familiar, an unexpected relief. An older version of Ginger, Lady Elizabeth Whitman looked tall and graceful as she reached the bottom step, a joyful smile on her face. Abandoning her place by the table, Ginger rushed toward her.
Her mother pulled her into a fierce hug. “I can’t think of a more wonderful sight to wake up to. When did you arrive? I waited for hours last night.”
“I’m not sure of the exact time—I lost my watch in Belah.” Ginger held her mother’s hands. She couldn’t mention the Turkish soldier who had ripped the watch from her wrist. She flinched. “It’s good to see you, Mother.”
Her mother linked arms with her. “I can’t tell you how relieved we are to have you home. Lucy is thrilled. She thinks your presence means I’ll let her go to more social gatherings without me.”
Ginger laughed with surprise. She and Lucy had never been close, given their six-year age gap. “If she thinks I’ll be going to parties with her, I may disappoint.”
Her mother winked. “Don’t tell her yet.”
“I heard that,” Lucy said from the top of the stairs. Lucy glided down the wide wooden staircase. During their time apart, Lucy had grown in poise and beauty. What nature hadn’t done, Lucy cultivated with careful attention. Her stylish dress swished above her ankles, her dark-brown hair was fashionably pinned. “Goodness, everyone is up so early this morning. It’s a lucky thing I heard you.” She wagged a finger at Ginger. “Don’t let Mother fool you—they aren’t parties. They’re charity events for the troops. Mostly.”
Ginger lifted a brow. “No doubt with plenty of opportunities to flirt with officers.”
Lucy grinned. “Of course.” She scanned Ginger’s face and figure with a critical eye. “Look at you. You’re so brown.”
Ginger laughed and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t know how you’re not. This sun will tan anyone. Have you grown taller since I last saw you?”
“Yes, but I can’t seem to get rid of this baby fat.” Lucy pouted. “Was it dreadful out there? I’ve heard absolute horror stories. The girls and I get together at Ezbekieh Gardens every day for tea. They tell me the news they’ve heard about the front. How did the latest campaign go?”
The door to her father’s office opened and her father ambled out, as though he’d been listening by the door.
Odd that Lucy seemed so blithely unaware. “The casualties were high after the battles in Gaza. Terrible losses.”
Her mother frowned. “The newspapers say it’s going well out there.”
“It’s not. We’ve made no progress on the campaign since March. The men are sitting in trenches.” How did neither of them seem to know the extent to which the Palestine campaign had proven unsuccessful as of late? She gave her father a quizzical look. “Why is it, exactly, the Egyptian Gazette isn’t covering this?”
Her father shrugged dismissively. “You must know how it is, Virginia. The troops at the front exaggerate their casualties after battle. Men in the thick of it are the worst source of information. A hundred casualties quickly becomes the story of an entire regiment lost. I’m sure it’s similar amongst the nurses. Unfortunately, I wish I had more time to chat, but I’m needed early at the office this morning. And here I am, still in my robe.” He nodded at his wife and went up the stairs.
Ginger watched him, frustration building. This was how it always was. He’d downplay her expertise in any matter, make her seem like she was overstating things, negating her opinion. The battles in Gaza had been losses, and while the men may have exaggerated casualties, the medical staff was well aware of the numbers passing through their stations. Surely, as a senior officer in the CID, he knew the truth. It was an odd thing to make light of.
The three Whitman women headed toward the breakfast room. Her mother glanced at Ginger as they entered. “Now what about that fiancé of yours? Is he going to be coming to visit us soon too? I’ve made more progress on the details for your wedding. Not a simple task, with having to wait on my mother to answer my letters.”
The wedding that she had dreaded. It would have been a relief to be released from it if any of it had been on her terms. But she’d been humiliated. Being with Noah had softened the blow, but her pain had changed now. Thoughts of James brought anger and guilt. Thoughts of Noah made her heart ache.
She set her hands on the back of a chair, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “James—ah, no, he won’t be coming.” She sat. How would she explain this to her mother? One of the few things her father had said to her the night before was that she wasn’t to mention the events of Belah to anyone.
Her mother bit her lip. “Lucy, would you be an angel and fetch that stack of letters from your grandmother for Ginger from my room?”
Lucy seemed to understand something was amiss. She fidgeted, glancing between her mother and Ginger. “Right now?”
Her mother nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
Lucy hesitated before turning and leaving.
Sunlight bathed the room in a glow, the lace curtains throwing patterns onto the newly brushed Oriental rugs and polish of the wooden floors. Large vases filled with roses from the gardens adorned the table. Ginger smiled tightly, a tense knot in her stomach. “Such lovely comforts everywhere.”
Her mother sat. “The details of life make all the difference in the world.” She settled her elbow against an armrest. “But I’ve always been one to notice details.” She frowned. “Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you?”
What would her mother believe? “I called it off with James. We’d grown apart. But as a result, I decided not to reenlist after my leave.”
Her mother tilted her head to the side. “But you love nursing.”
A servant entered with a tray and set plates and food on the table in front of them.
“I do. But I’m tired, Mother. And it was time for me to set my sights on new goals.”
A few cubes of sugar clinked against a porcelain teacup as her mother dropped them in. She poured them each a cup and reclined, the handle of her cup between her fingers. “Why don’t you tell me what happened with Doctor Clark?”
Her mother hadn’t lost her intuitiveness. Ginger didn’t enjoy lying to her, but she couldn’t put her in jeopardy. Ginger shrugged, casually. “I suppose I realized to be a doctor’s wife I needed a certain domestic quality I lacked.” She even kept a straight face.
“Living in the wilderness for a few months will give you an appreciable amount of perspective. I worried when you transferred to that clearing station from the hospital.” Her mother paused and swirled the amber tea in her cup. “Then again, I supposed you’d be even more determined to continue on the path you’d chosen. You’re headstrong.”
Ginger avoided a quick reaction and grabbed a pastry from the tray. The flaky crust melted in her mouth. The opposite of the cold, tasteless porridge Beatrice and the other sisters would be eating at this time of day. Either her family didn’t appear too observant of food rations on flour and sugar, or they’d paid the steep costs for the ability to ignore them. The food—and her presence here—felt like a betrayal of all she’d worked for.
She shouldn’t be enjoying any comfort. She’d killed a man, and her father had made the entire matter disappear. But he couldn’t take the stain away from her hands.
“I can’t disappoint you and Father forever.” If her mother knew what awaited on the horizon, if hints of the scandal at Belah returned to society life in Cairo, it would absolutely ruin her.
Her mother patted her hand. “You never disappointed me. I’m proud of all you did. But I’m happy you’re here. Too much time has gone by without seeing my children every day.”
“I’m glad to be here. Though I’m surprised you’ve lasted in Cairo so long. I know how much both you and Lucy wanted to go home last year.”
“They still aren’t allowing many wives or officers’ families to return to England. The risk of torpedoes from those U-boats is too great.” Her mother’s gaze fixed on a statue of the Egyptian god Horus on a pedestal beside the fireplace. “Your father loves serving the people. I could never have denied him that. And he’s done a fine job. Besides, he’s always wanted the best for us. Even if that meant living abroad. You’ll see when you marry. Men have different needs from women. Their way of expressing affection for their family often takes them far outside the household.”
Ginger held her tongue. Everything her mother said about marriage made it feel cold. Clinical. In Noah’s arms, she’d experienced passion. Perhaps Noah had ruined her. She didn’t know if she could ever marry a man without passion. Damn him. She didn’t want any other man but Noah. “Marriage isn’t something I want to think of just at the moment.”
Her mother frowned. Her fingers, warm from holding the teacup, encircled Ginger’s wrist. “It’s not important. But if anything is troubling you, darling, I want you to feel you can come to me.”
“Thank you, Mother. I’m glad I’m able to confide in you.” She felt like a fraud.
“You can confide in me about a great deal of things. You’ll find me a steel trap.”
Ginger kissed her mother’s hand. Now that she knew the genuine nature of her father’s work, her mother’s trustworthiness made sense. Did her mother know more than she let on?
“If you think for one minute I won’t ask what you were talking about, you’re sorely mistaken.” Lucy’s entrance broke the quiet moment. She sauntered over, her gauzy, floral dress swishing. Lucy sat beside them and plopped a stack of letters onto the table. “Here, Grandmama’s letters. Now, tell me everything. I won’t be left out of the family gossip.”
Ginger choked on the pastry she was eating. She didn’t remember Lucy being so brazen.
“Your sister called off her engagement with James,” her mother said. “I doubt she considers it family gossip.”
A sympathetic look crossed Lucy’s face. “I’m sorry.” Her brown eyes took on a solemn expression. “I know how much you loved him. What happened?”
Ginger blinked at her teacup. Had she given such an impression of being in love with James? Those early days of their engagement seemed so distant, such a whirlwind. Her happiness had been equally relief. James was everything Stephen was not, and that had been enough.
She sipped the tea and set it down. “My feelings for him weren’t as deep as I believed.” Saying something truthful felt good. “It turns out feeling trapped and bound to your word does not a happy engagement make. I wanted something more fulfilling.”
Lucy frowned. “But you wanted to be engaged to him, didn’t you?” She squinted and then her face brightened. “Did you meet someone else? Who is he?”
She hadn’t counted on Lucy’s shrewd nosiness to land so close to another truth. “No, there’s no one else.” The door opened, and Henry came into the breakfast room.
“So many beautiful women in one room.” Henry smiled widely. He paused by Ginger’s chair and kissed the top of her head. “Glad to have you home, Ginny. Did you get in late?”
“Very.” Ginger stabbed at a piece of ham on her plate with a fork, not looking at him. He had to pretend he hadn’t seen her yet. But barely an hour into this morning, she was sick of pretending. It had been a mistake to rise so early. Tomorrow she’d stay in her room well past sunrise. She glanced at Henry, knowing her mother would find her displeasure with him odd. “But I was too excited to be home to sleep.”
Henry’s smile faltered, as though to say, “Good girl, but try to be more convincing.” He turned to his mother. “Forgive me for interrupting your conversation.”
“You should be sorry.” Lucy laughed. “Ginny was about to tell us about her latest beau.”
This was not a conversation she wanted to have in front of Henry. Ginger’s heart skipped a beat as Henry raised an eyebrow. “Beau?”
“Lucy’s mistaken. I broke it off with James, and that’s that.”
“I’d put money on there being someone else who caught your fancy.” Lucy leaned closer to Ginger. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have said you wanted something else. So who is he?”
“There isn’t anyone.” Ginger kept eating calmly, aware of her mother and Henry’s gazes. She might shake Lucy off. Her mother and Henry knew her well enough to sense her nervousness. It wouldn’t take much for either of them to learn the truth from her father. Would he humiliate her by telling them? She smiled at Lucy. “So feel free to introduce me to a suitable match.”
Lucy took the bait immediately. “Actually, you could come with me to Ezbekieh this afternoon. We go to the YMCA to help the ladies in the Red Cross hand out sandwiches and entertain the convalescing troops. And you could meet my friends. They’re eager to get to know you—I’ve told them all about you.”
The thought of spending time with Lucy’s friends didn’t appeal. Ginger hadn’t made much time for socialization after the start of the war, and the few girls from her circle of friends at home had drifted apart as they married and she went to nursing school. She’d been close with other sisters in the Queen Alexandra’s after she’d joined. But with assignments taking taken them to different hospitals or clearing stations, only Beatrice had remained. Most of the other sisters she’d been close to had traveled to France after Gallipoli.
At least with the nurses in the clearing station in Belah, Ginger felt a sense of kinship. The society ladies of Cairo were similar in their pursuits to the society women of London.
Not wanting to ignore Lucy’s invitation, Ginger managed, “Not today. I hurt my hip, and I need to stay off my feet.”
Lucy pouted. “Fine. But you’d better heal quickly.” She snuck a glance at her mother. “Did you tell her?”
Her mother shook her head. “I didn’t want to spoil your surprise.”
Ginger suppressed a groan.
“You haven’t been out on the town in ages, and, fortunately, I’ve made friends for the both of us. Lady Victoria Everill is throwing a charity dinner and ball at Shepheard’s Hotel five days from now, and it will be the social event of the season.” Lucy squeaked, waving her hands with excitement.
“Ball?” Ginger cringed. “Lucy, I don’t think I’m up for parties.”
“Why not? Shepheard’s Hotel is the most important gathering spot, and I want to show you off.”
“I don’t know.” Ginger fidgeted with her teacup.
“Oh, lighten up, Ginny. No one likes a bore.” Henry winked at her. “You’re acting like a dowdy old maid.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Ginger didn’t bother to remove the sarcasm from her voice.
Lucy pressed on, undeterred. “Please? I already told Victoria you’d come. It’s difficult to get on her personal guest list. We’ll be at her table. I can’t disappoint her.”
Few things appealed less than dinner with gossipy women who enjoyed flirting and laughing with British officers. Ginger shot her mother a pleading look.
Her mother cleared her throat. “I think we need to let Ginger have some time to rest. There will be plenty of time to socialize in the coming weeks. Ginger says she isn’t planning on returning to the nursing service.”
Lucy twisted her serviette in her lap, struggling against tears. “If you’ll excuse me, please.” She hurried from the room.
“Really, Ginny, did you have to be so dismissive?” Henry’s face darkened.
Ginger tucked her hair back, feeling badly. Was she being unreasonable? “That’s quite a reaction.”
Her mother shrugged. “Be easy on her. I know you still see her as a silly girl, but Lucy’s grown up as a daughter of this war. She’s thrown fund-raising balls, participated in charity drives, and organized Christmas parcel parties. She’ll never have a stomach of steel like you. That doesn’t make her efforts unworthy.”
“I’m not claiming it does.” It bothered her that even her mother seemed to paint her as insensitive. What about her own needs? She may not have been in love with James, but a broken engagement should have given her some excuse to nurse her wounds. Time she could have used to try to forget Noah. If possible.
“We’re dealing with the sorrows in our lives in our own ways. She’s not happy to be in Cairo, but she’s attempting to put her best foot forward. You’re a woman of compassion. Maybe you can extend some to your sister?” The gentleness of her mother’s voice reminded Ginger of why she hated disappointing her so much.
Ginger sighed. “You’re suggesting I go to a charity ball with her?”
“Maybe not this one. But think about it. You should have seen how excited she was when she received that invitation. Lord Helton’s daughter is the toast of the town, and Lucy has made it her mission to be friends with her,” her mother said.
Ginger stiffened. “Lord Helton’s daughter?” That was who Lucy wanted her to be friends with? Noah’s fiancée?
Henry shifted in his chair, observing her.
Her mother nodded. “Yes, Lady Victoria Everill. She’s quite the charmer.”
“Charmer is putting it mildly. She’s practically the social queen of Cairo. And beautiful. Angelica talks about her incessantly.” Henry drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
“Isn’t she engaged to that friend of yours? Major Benson?” Her mother asked.
Ginger gripped the handle of the butter knife, not focusing on her mother’s exchange with Henry. Lady Victoria would be in touch with Noah. It would give her the perfect opportunity to send Noah a message. She couldn’t seem too eager to go now, especially in front of Henry. “Oh for goodness’ sake, you speak of her as though she were Nefertiti reincarnated.”
“You sound jealous, Ginny.” Henry gave her a pointed look.
Maybe her father had said something to him about her relationship with Noah. Ginger rolled her eyes. “I’m not the least bit interested in competing with Victoria.”
His eyes locked with hers, his expression perplexed. “You’ve let this war turn you into someone I’m not sure I recognize anymore.”
Henry goaded her, but he also made it easy for her to accept Lucy’s invitation. She didn’t take her eyes off him. “I think after breakfast I’ll tell Lucy I’d love to go to that ball.”
Her mother blinked. “Really?”
“Well, I don’t want to disappoint Lucy. Or convince my brother I’m anything less than ready to resume my place within the Whitman home and society.”
Henry leaned against the back of his seat. “I hope you mean that, Ginny.”
Did he know how easy he’d made it for her to reach Noah? The invitation was still days away, though. What if her father and Henry tried to hurt Noah before then? But with her father watching her, few opportunities like this would present themselves.
The idea of running into Noah’s fiancée made her stomach turn. She could handle the humiliation, though. If he died because she did nothing, she’d never forgive herself.