He placed my hand on his heart. I felt its steady force under my fingers and I shivered. “Because I want one memory with you dancing. One thing that’s mine before we part ways . . .”
Tension seeped out of my shoulders. His blues eyes were locked on mine, and I felt myself give a little. He stared at me with infinite tenderness, and it nearly broke me to know that he’d never have the chance to look at me that way again.
“One thing I can carry with me back home,” he continued in a hush.
I swallowed hard, my resistance disappearing, and I drew closer.
His lips brushed against my temple. “I know it’s selfish, and I hope you can forgive me for it.”
This was one memory I wanted, too.
“Forgiven,” I breathed.
Whit twirled me around the dance floor, holding me close, his minty and clean scent making my head spin. Couples swirled around us, whispering and gossiping, and counting down the minutes until the New Year. He released the tight hold around my waist, and backed a step away from me. “Thank you for the dance.”
A familiar face came into my line of sight. The blood drained from my face. It’d been a month since I’d seen him, but I’d know him anywhere.
“Olivera? Inez, what’s the matter?”
Whit’s face swam in my vision, but I couldn’t tear my face away from the man coldly staring at my uncle dancing with Elvira. He clutched a flute of champagne, and Cleopatra’s golden ring glinted from his littlest finger.
“It’s Mr. Sterling,” I whispered. “He’s here and staring at my uncle. He looks furious.”
Whit half turned his head, a casual gesture that didn’t hide the sudden tension locking his jaw.
“Do you think he’s part of The Company? The one who deals at Tradesman’s Gate?”
“We suspect that he is,” he whispered against my ear. “We’ve been trying to figure out a plan to track down your mother, but your uncle also wants me to steal the ring back.”
At the front of the ballroom, the band changed songs, alerting everyone the countdown to midnight had begun.
“Why did my uncle send for you when we’ve already found Cleo—” I broke off when Whit aimed a pointed look in my direction. I quickly amended my statement, and in a more moderate tone continued with, “Why does my uncle want the ring back? He doesn’t need it to find her.”
He didn’t, because he’d had me.
Whit remained silent, his arms folded tight across his chest. “Can you truly think of no reason why your uncle would want the ring back?”
It was the way he said it that made me realize what had been so obvious to my uncle. Mr. Sterling could use the ring to find Cleopatra’s tomb himself. If he was part of The Company, then he had a way to find Cleopatra. If he ever found her tomb, what would become of her? Would she be allowed to stay in Egypt? Would her possessions adorn exhibits in foreign countries?
I didn’t like to think of the probable outcome.
“It may not matter,” I said slowly. “The magic might have transferred to him regardless. He wouldn’t need the ring in order to find her tomb.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so, because he would have gone to Philae by now. The magic makes that kind of transfer depending on the strength of the spell, or if it bloody wants to. Think of how many people might have handled the ring since Cleopatra cast the spell. There could have been dozens before it eventually was put inside her tomb.”
“And then my father, me, and, finally, Mr. Sterling,” I listed. “So, how are you going to steal it? That piece of jewelry is jammed onto his finger.”
“I have my methods.”
My uncle would make sure my cousin and I were on the next available train to Alexandria, but before then, I wanted to do something to aid my uncle after everything I’d done. Papá had entrusted that ring to me, and Mr. Sterling had stolen it right off my finger. “Let me help you.”
Whit shook his head. “I have contacts in the city who can assist me. You’d only get in the way, Inez. And besides . . . you’re leaving.”
“I can do something before then,” I said desperately. “I made a mess and it’s killing me that you both are having to clean it up and I won’t even be here.”
It was killing me that I would never know Papá’s fate. I did not want to stop looking for him. How would I continue the search from another continent?
He stared at me steadily, and it struck me how tired he looked. Deep shadows marred the skin under his blue eyes. “There’s nothing you can do. Think about Elvira. Would it be fair to spend your last couple of days here ignoring her? This isn’t your problem anymore, Inez.”
My gaze skittered to the ornate clock at the front of the ballroom. “Two minutes until midnight.”
“So it is,” he said. “I won’t be able to come back to Shepheard’s after tonight. This is goodbye.”
The hand moved forward on the clock.
“One more minute,” I breathed.
Whit was grim and serious as everyone around us clapped and cheered, the gentlemen throwing their hats, the ladies twirling their handkerchiefs in the air. I remained utterly motionless, trapped by Whit’s incendiary stare. He slowly leaned forward and whispered, “Happy New Year, Inez.”
“Feliz a?o nuevo, Whit.”
The noise around us rose to a deafening crescendo as he softly brushed his lips against my cheek. Then he straightened, and melted into the riotous crowd.
Capítulo Treinta Y Dos
Elvira and I walked back up to our room, filled with the taste of champagne and the music lingering in our ears. With every step, the cracks in my heart deepened. One day, I’d have to put all the pieces back together.
But tonight there was no escaping my misery.
I was never going to see Whitford Hayes again.
“Did you kiss him?”
I blinked at her. “Surely you’re not going to interrogate me after I’ve had too much to drink?”
“You look so sad,” she said. “I thought he might be the reason why.”
“Like I told you earlier. He’s getting married.” I cleared my dry throat. “I might ask if you kissed any of the men you danced with.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I’m having morning tea out on the terrace with one of them.”
My brows rose. “You’ll need a chaperone.”
“You’re not serious,” she said.
“Elvira.”
She shrugged delicately. “Will I really need one? I’m in a different country—”
“Primarily filled with British people who have very similar rules regarding etiquette—just like Buenos Aires society. Many of whom travel to Argentina on business and leisure, I might add.”
Elvira set her mouth at a mulish line. “You sound just like your mother.” I froze, and she immediately slapped her palm against her mouth. “My mother. I meant to say my mother. Oh, Inez, I’m so sorry. Lo siento!” She reached for my hand and squeezed. “Forgive me?”