And who can blame him?â
Polly picked up the photograph.
âNow their daddyâs so ill Hanifâs probably the one we should be talking to,â Minty said slowly, her eyes focused on her notes. âTheyâve both got the âbin Khalid bin Abdullah Al Bahaâ. Exactly the same. Not very imaginative, is it? The only difference is the Hanif-Rashid bit.â
There was more difference between the brothers than that. Sheikh Hanif looked like a âsafe pair of handsâ. At least, he did as far as you could ever judge anything from a single photo when you werenât wearing your glasses.
Polly closed one eyelid and brought the blurry image into sharp focus again. He had a solid sort of responsibility. Maybe a hint of sadness in his dark eyes? Certainly steeliness.
But Rashid was something else. There was a restlessness about him. A man who exuded an edginess. Danger. As Minty said, a bad idea. Unquestionably. Why were bad boys always so attractive?
âNeither of them have been to Shelton. Iâm sure. Theyâre both a good twenty years younger than the men I met.â
Minty flicked through the pages of her notebook. âI canât get my head round these names at all. The dad is Crown Prince Khalid bin Abdullah bin Abdul-Aalee Al Baha. Jeez.â
ââBinâ means âson ofâ,â Polly said, putting the photographs down and picking up her coffee. She wrapped her fingers round the comforting warmth and blew across the top of the mug. âThink of it like a family tree. And Baha is King Abdullahâs family name so that pinpoints them as being close to the centre of things.â
âThat makes it all as clear as mud.â Minty rubbed at her forehead. âNot that it matters. I think as long as you cover your shoulders and donât wear miniskirts while in Amrah weâll be just fine even if we donât get all that sorted.â
âRight.â Polly stretched out long legs encased in the finest ten-denier stockings. âI can manage that. Seems a bit of a pity to hide my best feature, though, donât you think?â
âBetter than getting arrested for immorality in a public place.â
âDo they do that?â
âIâve absolutely no idea. Letâs not risk it.â Then as she caught the edge of Pollyâs startled gaze, âDonât let it worry you. Iâve got a team working on the practical side of things. Nothing horrible will happen to you, I promise.â
Polly nodded, only partially reassured.
âAnd Matthew Wriggley, the tame historian we found, is painstakingly putting together some wonderful detail on your Elizabeth Lewis. Really exciting. Youâll love it.â She gathered the photographs together and put them inside her slip file. âIt was all going great until Crown Prince Khalid fell ill and the permission to begin filming was mired in red tape.â
Polly said nothing. She took another sip of her coffee and waited. Sheâd known Minty for something like nine years and she knew there was more to come.
âSo now I need you to cultivate Sheikh Rashid, get his support and encourage him to fast-track it all or weâll miss the best of the weather. Convince him we donât have any kind of subversive agenda.â
Two frown lines appeared in the centre of Pollyâs forehead. âI thought you said we needed to negotiate with the elder brother now Crown Prince Khalid is ill.â
âI knew you werenât paying attention to me. Sheikh Hanif is the brother we should be talking to since heâs generally thought to be his fatherâs right-hand man, but heâs completely un-get-ableat.â
âThatâs not a word.â
âYou know what I mean,â Minty said, ripping the top off a sachet of artificial sweetener and dropping the contents in her coffee. âHeâs doing the bedside vigil thing. Which leaves us with Sheikh Rashidââ
âAh.â
ââwho isnât, and who fortunately has a well-documented soft spot for English blondes.â
âHow fortuitous,â Polly said dryly.
âIsnât it? Even better is that heâs going to be at your place for the big charity bash this weekend. Iâve no idea why he isnât also sitting at his fatherâs bedside but thatâs not importantââ
Polly shook her head. That couldnât be right. âHis name isnât on the guest list,â she said with the quiet certainty of someone whoâd been through it twice last week.
âHe is. Heâs in the Duke of Aylesburyâs party. Part of the âplus sixâ.â
âHow the heck do you know that when I donât?â
âOne very boring dinner party sat next to an inebriated old Etonian and hey presto. Itâs all in the flirting.â Minty picked up her spoon and stirred her coffee. âApparently big brother Hanif was at Eton with the Duke of Aylesbury and theyâre close friends. Presumably that friendship has extended to little brother, too, I donât know. Whatever the reason, heâll be at Shelton on Saturday.â
Polly sat back in her chair and gazed in frank admiration.
âSo, if you do your âcharming lady of the castleâ thing and get his support that should speed everything up beautifully. Weâve had all the appropriate forms in now for about four monthsââ
âDo my what?â
Minty looked up and laughed. âYou know what I mean. Foreigners love that stuff. Take him to see the Rembrandt or something. Talk about your mother the dowager duchess. Toss your hair a bit. Donât mention youâre more the Cinderella of the outfit. Heâll love it.â Distracted, she glanced over her shoulder, then back at Polly. âWhat is that noise?â
âAargh! Thatâs my phone. Sorry.â Polly made a dive for her handbag. âI should have switched it off.â The handle caught on her chair arm and by the time sheâd opened her bag the ringing had stopped.
âImportant?â
Polly glanced down at the number. âProbably not. Itâs Anthony.â She turned it off and returned the phone to the depths of her bag. âIâll call him later.â
âGood plan! Let him sort out the latest crisis. Itâs about bloody time he did something.â
Polly allowed herself a tiny smile. Loyalty to her late stepfather meant she always stopped short of joining in criticism of Anthony.
âHow long is it now since Richard died?â Minty asked suddenly.
âThree
