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In the end, none of them escaped dinner, which Lady Sabita insisted they would keep ‘terribly informal.’ That apparently meant sitting at an elegantly laid table in the open air of the courtyard, ringed by lanterns and candles.
At least nobody asked Adam to put on an evening jacket. He tried to remember the last time he had even worn an evening jacket… failed… and decided that was a good thing.
At least sitting next to Julian Forster-Mowbray helped keep Adam’s mind off his other problems. He couldn’t spend much time worrying about the talk he needed to have with Ellie, or what her brother was going to say about their relationship, when he was actively resisting the temptation to dump a bowl of yogurt over The Mustache’s perfect hair.
As one of the household staff set a platter of tasty-looking pastries down on the table, Adam even started to relax—until his dining buddy turned to address him.
“I must say, I’ve been known to swing a racket on occasion,” Julian chummily offered. “When did you acquire your taste for badminton?”
Adam had just popped a ball of fried cheese soaked in cardamom-scented syrup into his mouth. He nearly choked on it.
“Are you all right?” Lady Sabita asked with alarm.
“Fine,” Adam wheezed after he managed to swallow. “Great cheese balls.”
Constance glared at him from across the table, and Adam realized that everyone was still waiting for him to answer.
“Uh… just kind of fell into it, I suppose,” he awkwardly lied.
“Right, right,” Julian obliviously agreed. “I must say, swordplay found me in much the same way.”
“Fond of a spot of fencing at the gymkhana, are we?” Adam offered, inwardly congratulating himself on his lucky guess.
Ellie shot him a warning look from Julian’s other side.
“Something a bit more than that, actually,” Julian replied with a little chuckle. “I compete with an épée, but I also practice with a rapier.”
“Arapier?” Adam burst out. “Why?”
As opposed to a traditional fencing weapon like an épée, which was light, flexible, and never intended to hack anybody’s limbs off, a rapier was—well, more or less a proper sword. It was far too heavy and dangerous for any sort of competition, but also pretty useless in any modern defensive context. High society didn’t exactly countenance men like Julian Forster-Mowbray strutting around with swords hanging from their belts.
Which was yet another reason why Adam had little time for high society. He gave the hilt of his machete a comforting pat under the flap of his jacket.
“Let’s just say… it relates to my historical interests.” Julian flashed a secretive smile.
“Yes, of course!” Lady Sabita piped in forcefully. “I forgot to mention that our Mr. Forster-Mowbray is quite active in Cairo’s Egyptological circles.”
“I wouldn’t sayactive,” Julian charmingly corrected her as he leaned back in his chair. “I am hardly running about digging things up myself. My role is more… administrative.”
“But really, administrative work would be much less likely to take one away for months at a time,” Lady Sabita chirped enthusiastically. “Which I am sure your future wife will find most preferable. Don’t you think, Jhia?” she added with a rapier-pointed look at her daughter.
Adam paused with his second cheese ball halfway to his mouth, glancing from the innocent-eyed Lady Sabita to the smug Julian Forster-Mowbray and a glaring Constance.
Lady Sabita seemed to realize she was laying it on pretty thick, because she shifted her attention over to Ellie. “You’re fond of history as well—aren’t you, Miss Mallory?”
Ellie’s fork paused in midair as her eyes narrowed. “If by ‘fond,’ you mean that I possess a degree specializing in the subject from University College, London…”
Adam could hear the warning in her tone.
“Haveyoua degree, then?” Julian cut in. “Isn’t that jolly?”
“Jolly?” Ellie echoed flatly.
Uh-oh, Adam thought, casting an alarmed look at Ellie’s left hand, which had tightened on her butter knife.
How much would it hurt to get stabbed in the thigh with a butter knife?
Adam wondered if Mr. Forster-Mowbray was about to find out.
