Scandal's Daughter Read Online Free PDF

himself upon the poor girl, but she didn’t have to regard him as if he were a particularly revolting cockroach.
    Wishing he was decently clad in proper English breeches, he descended the last step and bowed. “ Selaam aleykum ,” he said, “peace be upon you.”
    “Aleykum selaam,” she responded, “but non-believers are not meant to use that greeting.”
    “Good morning, then, Miss Courtenay. I have been used this while to pass as a Turk, or at least, since my command of Turkish is far from perfect, as a good Moslem citizen of the Ottoman Empire.”
    “Why?”
    “One can come to know the people,” he said airily, “which makes travel much more interesting. May I beg a crust of bread to break my fast? I confess I am sharp-set, though Uncle Aaron fed me well last night.” It had been the first decent meal he’d eaten in a week on the run.
    She clapped her hands. The two little maidservants scurried in, properly veiled now and wide-eyed above their veils.
    “Bring breakfast for the Englishman,” Miss Courtenay ordered. Her Turkish accent was good, better than his. “Will you take tea or coffee, sir?”
    “Tea, please. Turkish coffee is more like a sweetmeat.”
    “Amina knows how to make it in the Viennese style. My mother prefers...preferred it that way.”
    “Then coffee, by all means. Allow me to express my condolences on your recent loss, ma’am. A street accident, I understand. It must have been a terrible shock.”
    “Did Aaron tell you what happened?” she asked, giving him a suspicious look.
    Curiosity aroused, he said on a questioning tone, “No, not the details.”
    Her mouth tightened and she turned to the maid. “Viennese coffee for the gentleman, Amina.”
    She drank tea and nibbled on a piece of Turkish delight while he consumed a substantial breakfast. Since she obviously, and naturally, did not wish to describe her mother’s accident, he tried the subject of Vienna, but on this too she refused to be drawn. All she would say was that she and her mother had lived there for several years. His curiosity now running rampant, he wondered just what had brought the late Lady Courtenay from Austria to Istanbul as the mistress of a high official of the Ottoman Empire.
    He found it difficult to believe the girl did not take after her mother. However, all he had seen of her so far went to confirm what Aaron had told him: though not innocent in the sense of ignorant, Cordelia Courtenay was uncorrupted. In fact she was as prim and prudish as any well-bred young miss newly emancipated from schoolroom to ballroom.
    What was more, to judge by the way she looked down her nose at him, she strongly disapproved of the tatterdemalion James Preston, Esquire.
    “Have you changed your mind about taking me with you?”
    “I never consented. However,” she went on grudgingly, “I don’t want your death upon my conscience. If you promise to behave with propriety, you may travel as my servant.”
    “I’ve no intention of robbing or ravishing you,” he assured her, biting back a grin as she pursed her lips. “And I’ll try to watch my tongue. I’ve been away from decent society for rather a long time, I fear.”
    She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Very well, then. Everything is prepared to make you look the part.” She indicated a bundle in a corner. “Ibrahim will help you dress and shave. Aisha, the hot water, please.”
    The eunuch picked up the bundle and one of the maids dashed out.
    “No hurry,” said James, reaching for the coffee-pot.
    “Yes, there is,” she said impatiently. “The clothes may have to be altered, or a different sort of padding devised. Please go up with him now.”
    He had to admit the practicality of her concern, but he could not resist teasing her. “No need to go upstairs. I’ll change here.”
    Drawing herself up, she said in an icy voice, “I fail to see why the maids and I should be forced to leave the room for your convenience. Thank you, Aisha, give the jug to