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girls.”
    Amina was in a great fuss because Ibrahim had not lit the charcoal fire to heat the water for the Bayan’s tea. “The last breakfast I shall make for the Bayan,” she cried, “and there is no tea prepared!”
    “Cease your foolishness,” he said grandly. “I had more important matters to attend to.”
    “What can be more important than the Bayan’s breakfast?”
    Cordelia soothed her. “Ibrahim shall step out to find a yoghurt-seller and buy some laban for my breakfast,” she said. “I can wait for my tea. Our guest will want some, I expect.”
    “A guest!” Amina gaped, and Aisha stopped on her way up the stairs. Ibrahim looked still more important. “What guest, Bayan?” Amina demanded.
    “Aisha, come back, please. I must talk to all of you. An English gentleman arrived late last night.”
    The eunuch nodded smugly. “He sleeps still, in the Lady’s room.”
    “He is returning to England,” Cordelia went on, “and he will go with me.”
    “And I shall go to make sure all is proper,” said Ibrahim.
    Cordelia’s thoughts raced. Only the rich had a eunuch slave or servant, only the very rich more than one. To appear on board the Greek ship with two in her train was bound to lead to gossip which might set Mehmed Pasha on her trail.
    “No,” she said gently. Ibrahim’s face fell. “It was generous of you to agree to go with me, when I know you had much rather not. Now I don’t need to ask it of you. You shall have the same money I promised you, enough to set up in business as a barber, as you wish. The Englishman will escort me safely all the way to England.” She could only hope it was true.
    “To travel alone with a man who is not a relative!” said Amina, scandalized. Aisha and Ibrahim looked equally shocked.
    Although they had been loyal to her mother in spite of her shameful behaviour, Cordelia realized, they had thought better of her. “These matters are regarded differently among the English,” she said hastily. “Everything will be perfectly proper. Besides, he will travel as my servant, as a eunuch, in fact. We must try to make him look like Ibrahim.”
    Ibrahim was obviously pleased at the notion of the English gentleman pretending to be him. Aisha was dubious, still dismayed, but Amina at once started planning the transformation. All was in readiness by the time Mr. Preston came down.
    Cordelia and Ibrahim had just come in from the market. She thought it best not to change her routine today, and in any case they had to eat—and feed the uninvited guest. Amina, who was a good cook, wanted to make kadin budu , a special delicacy, as a farewell dinner, but Cordelia considered the name—meaning “lady’s thighs”—far too indelicate. Instead, she had bought lamb, onions, fresh mint, a lemon, and a large purple aubergine for her favourite stew. Lentils, pepper, turmeric, cinnamon, nutmeg, and garlic were all to be found in the store-cupboard.
    As Ibrahim handed over the basket to Amina, and Cordelia unwound the shawl from her head, James Preston descended the stairs. There was a spring in his step, last night’s fatigue forgotten.
    His vigour, unmistakably masculine despite the female dress, alarmed her anew. How she wished she had not agreed to let him stay!
     

Chapter 4
     
    James paused near the bottom of the stairs as four pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. The two maids, caught without their veils, squealed and fled. His gaze fixed on Miss Courtenay.
    By daylight she appeared younger than he had supposed, twenty perhaps, not more than two-and-twenty. The close-fitting bodice of her blue kaftan moulded a generous figure—on the plump side if one were not feeling generous. She had fine eyes, brown, with long lashes darker than the lustrous fair hair pulled back in a thick plait. Her face was too round for beauty, though she might be pretty if she ever smiled. As it was, the uncompromising set of her lips put him on his mettle. Admittedly he had rather thrust