Discovery of Desire (5 page)

Oh dear. The man
was
distracting.

She sent a smiling glance to Thomas, but her embarrassing blush was all due to Mr. Mayhew. “No one has ever likened me to a flower before, Mr. Mayhew.”

His eyes narrowed, studying her. “That doesn't make any sense at all. But that orchid wasn't just any flower, Miss Mina. It was the finest God ever created.”

She stilled as he lowered his head to talk just to her. A move he'd done before that tripped her heart.

“And I fear, all the rest of my days, I'll never be given such a gift again,” he said.

His words surprised her to silence. Big and blustering as he was, she thought him incapable of doubt, of depth. Even his sea-green eyes conjured shallow waters. But just at the moment, she couldn't look away from them.

“I wasn't expecting you tonight,” Thomas said, breaking the spell.

Mr. Mayhew straightened from her and looked into the crowded conservatory. “I thought I might introduce myself to a few Company men. If you point me to a likely man or two, Tom, I'd appreciate it.”

“They won't be receptive to hearing of your sister,” Thomas said.

Mr. Mayhew stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he shot a sidelong glance to her.

“She knows,” Thomas said. “I told her about Georgiana.”

“Did you now?” Mr. Mayhew's jaw tightened, but the smile he turned on her was warm, if a bit regretful. “Don't worry on none of it, Miss Mina. It's all a bit of a mucker, but tonight, these men will help me learn where Georgie's crew is.”

Thomas shook his head. “I don't think—”

“Look what I had printed up.” Mr. Mayhew pulled one of the papers out of his pocket and smoothed it on his broad chest, creasing it more.

But he winked at her while he did it.

Mr. Mayhew showed her the poster. “It's my sister's likeness—which is a fair rendering I think, not that I'm that fine an artist—including her last known location, the crew she was with, where people can find me, and my reward for information about her.” He watched her face as she read. “Did I forget anything?”

“Appreciated” was missing a
p
but all else seemed in order. “I think it will serve very well, Mr. Mayhew,” she said.

He smiled wider. “It will, won't it?”

The sketch of Georgiana had been carefully,
lovingly
rendered. “Your sister is very beautiful.”

“She is, but you could never tell her that.” Something like regret shaded his eyes. “It's been a few years since I've seen her. But I'm thinking she couldn't have changed much.”

Years traveling, exposed to the harshest elements of nature…Georgiana would undoubtedly be altered. But perhaps a sister would always be seen more with the heart than the eyes. At least that would be true for her and Emma, as they'd never see their sisters in England again.

“No, I'm sure she hasn't,” she said quietly, returning the paper to him. “Her crew is still afield?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Mr. Mayhew said. “They may be lost, too.”

His voice throbbed in her like the bass chords in music, so there was no missing the hitch on “lost.” And there was something familiar about his voice…

Mr. Mayhew pulled out the thick roll of his posters and tugged at the hem of his coat, which only slightly improved its appearance.

“Will you send telegrams, Mr. Mayhew?” she asked. “To the East India offices in Calcutta? If the Milford Expedition is still collecting plants, they'd need to requisition money for supplies, wouldn't they?” She turned to Thomas. “Is there a department for traveling botanists, Thomas?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Thomas said.

Mr. Mayhew smiled at her questions. “I don't think in straight lines like that. When forced to, it fatigues me no end.”

His smile didn't waver, even with that unflattering admission. But she suspected that Mr. Mayhew's constitution was happy and agreeable. And that reminded her of Missy.

“My youngest sister is the same,” she said. “Her mind leaps from one thought to the next like a frog. And so does her conversation.”

“A frog, is it?” Mr. Mayhew said. “I wager that's charming coming from a sister of yours. From me, people think me beefheaded.”

She started to protest, but he took her elbow and guided her to a quiet alcove. She looked back at Thomas, who followed with a resigned shake of his head.

“Telegrams is tomorrow, since the office was closed today,” Mr. Mayhew said.

She nodded. “At this time of year, what sort of work would plant collectors be doing?”

“Now there's the perfect question, Miss Mina. This might be the time for collecting seed, depending on their location.” He led her to a settee and sat beside her, leaving Thomas to collect a chair from several feet away to sit. “Tom Grant would know better than me which terrains are in seed.”

“As I'm right here,” Thomas said in a wry tone, “I'd say the lowlands of the eastern Himalayas.”

“Perhaps Georgiana's crew is already in India? To wait for a growing season?” Mina turned to Mr. Mayhew for a reply, but his eyes roamed her hair, her bosom, her lap. Was he not attending? “Mr. Mayhew?”

His head lifted and his ocean eyes crinkled again. “I'm listening, Miss Mina.”

Fresh heat flooded her face.

“India's definitely a possibility.” Mr. Mayhew leaned back, stretching a long, thick arm along the back of the settee behind her. She leaned away as far as she might in an effort to keep her countenance.

The nearness of his body heated her, and there was something electric tingling under her skin with every look, every low, reverberating bass chord in her ear. It was the oddest feeling. It was…attraction.

She was attracted.

Oh no.

His hard thigh shifted to rest against hers but he seemed unaware of the contact. “The fastest way of knowing where she is, is with them gents in there.” He slapped the roll of papers in the palm of his hand and rose, the settee creaking with a sound like relief. “Wish me luck.” He winked at her.

For the sixth time.

“Wait, we should—” Thomas reached to stop him, but Mr. Mayhew was already striding through the arched doors to the conservatory.

Thomas wiped a hand over his face. Was that a habit of his? Was he easily irritated?

“This is not how things are done,” he said. “Especially with men like this.”

No, it wasn't proper. Not at all. And he didn't even have an invitation.

They followed Mr. Mayhew's path and stood in a corner of the glittering conservatory. He was easy to find. His head towered over the others, and he was talking to an older gentleman dressed in tailored black and white. The man might have been a director of East India by the careful arrangement of his watch fob strung across his well-padded stomach and his elegant stick—which he held clutched in front of him as Mr. Mayhew advanced, pressing the poster at the man until he accepted it.

Mr. Mayhew swung about and caught the next man in sight, his poster already thrust forward.

“Will you excuse me?” Thomas said. “I really must stop him.”

“What will you do?” She cringed at her schoolmarmish tone. “That is…Mr. Mayhew is only attempting to gain information of his sister.”

“And perhaps allowances will be made because of it, but men of this rank—well, tonight they're rather intent on making the acquaintance of the newly arrived ladies.”

Mr. Mayhew's posters were held by half a dozen men or more, most giving it no more than a second's glance. And the men now pointedly kept their backs to him if he approached. One poster already littered the floor.

“Yes, I see,” she whispered.

Mr. Mayhew saw the discarded poster and bent to pick it up. The confused look on his face when he rose stabbed her heart.

“Please, Thomas, go and help him. He's—”

Thomas looked at his sleeve—where she had grabbed him.

What am I doing?
She removed her hand, stunned by her reaction. “I…sorry—” Oh God, she'd forgotten. She was under close scrutiny. She must be more biddable, more—

“Of course. At your service, Mina.” Thomas bowed his head and marched to the rescue.

But her heart was pounding. For the first time that evening, she had seen Thomas's eyes very clearly behind his spectacles.

And the doubt within them.

“Might not have been the best time.” Seth didn't look at Tom's face. At least Mina wasn't with him.

“Tried to tell you,” Tom said.

“I know it.” Seth shrugged, but it didn't lessen his embarrassment. Bloody Company men. They never gave him the time in London, and they were the same in India. Not even when he'd made them tens of thousands of pounds. And not even now, when a woman's life was concerned.

And he'd started the night excited—happier than he'd been in months—over all the help he thought he'd get. Damn stupid of him.

“These men care for nothing tonight except the Fishing Fleet,” Tom said.

“The what?”

Tom pointed with his chin into the conservatory. “A ship full of ladies,
fishing
for husbands. You've not heard that expression?”

Seth shook his head, frowning. “No. Doesn't sound fitting, anyway. Or nice.” He folded his papers into his pocket. “We can start in the morning, I suppose. I hope you know a man or two that might be more cooperative.”

“One or two, but they'll make it understood that I'm overstepping. Bombay may as well be London for men like us.”

“Like me, you mean.”

“Like us, Mayhew.”

Tom's words were so bitter, Seth paused in his turn for the door.

Tom raised a brow. “Why do you think I'm out in the Punjab?”

“The plantation—”

“I started in Calcutta, at the gardens. The Punjab isn't Calcutta. It's not Delhi or Bombay or Madras. It's the
mofussils
. Three years out there because I dared to question my superior.” Tom looked dispassionate as he surveyed the room, but when he spoke, his words were hard as steel. “Society
is
twice as rigid here, Mayhew. But damned if they'll turn us out with your sister missing. They may treat us as expendable, but they'll learn we're not.”

Despite Tom's troubles, warm relief smothered Seth's anger. Tom
was
going to help him—and not just because of the money. He patted his new ally on the back. “That's damn right. You might deserve a wife after all. Maybe not Miss Mina, but a wife.”

Tom shook his head, but a grin tugged at his lips. “Now that you mention her, do you have to flirt with my intended?”

Seth's heart plummeted—and it surprised the hell out of him. “Your intended now, is she?” His words came out too loud, so he grinned and blustered through. “She's accepted your offer then?”

Tom's mulish pout was answer enough.

Seth grinned in earnest, but his relief was damn stupid. Soon enough, Mina would have any man of her choosing. And that man wouldn't be some wandering explorer without a spare shilling to his name.

Tom scanned the room. “I wonder where she's gone to?”

If Mina were mine, I wouldn't be all that likely to misplace her.
Seth pointed to where she stood with a group of ladies beside a potted sago palm. “There. In that pink frock, she looks like a fancy teacake.” And with that milky skin, he had a strong urge to lick her. “She's a beauty, that one.”

“You've made clear you noticed, you realize?”

Confused, he dragged his gaze back to Tom.

“Yes, she's lovely to look on.” Tom studied him. “Listen, Mayhew—”

“Call me Seth.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint, but Miss Adams is here to meet a husband. And that will likely be me.”

Seth laughed but it came out weak. “I know it. Hell, every lady in here knows I can't offer them anything by way of a future.”

“Certainly you can. I just meant—”

“I tease too much, maybe, but I never led a woman to believe I could take on a wife and family. Besides, Miss Mina is too fine for the likes of me.” Seth crossed his arms and feigned interest in the crowded conservatory.

With the ladies so fresh and pretty, every man in here had his head on a swivel. Yet nothing in their faces showed how the men had got here. They were comfortable, proud, believed they were entitled to a wife and children. Believed they could support them.

Nothing showed, but Seth always recognized the certainty—because he never recognized it in himself.

A throbbing started in his head and the candlelight stabbed his eyes. Not enough food—that's why he was getting muddled. Men and their suitoring were none of his business. His business was finding Georgie, and that wasn't looking too easy a task with the Company men ignoring him.

And he was suddenly damn tired.

“I suppose it was a waste of my time coming here,” he said.

Tom's silence confirmed that and Seth swallowed another dose of shame. “Will you say good night to Miss Mina for me?”

“Certainly. We'll start early tomorrow.”

Seth buttoned his coat and from the corner of his eye, saw Mina hurry toward them. It was too late to avoid her. Had she seen how the Company men had treated him?

“Mr. Mayhew?” Her voice was a little breathless. “You are not leaving?”

Would he see her again? He'd have no cause to. The thought made him feel…not lonely. Just alone.

But because he didn't know of anything he could do about it, he did what he always did. He took up her gloved hand and smiled down at her. And her eyes were sherry lit by candlelight, and the blush on her cheeks as wondrous as a peach sunrise over the Atlantic, and the beauty of her face was the surest proof of a God and his angels that Seth would ever,
ever
need.

And there wasn't a thing the Worst Flirt in the Midlands could say but “Good-bye, Miss Mina.”

Her lips parted, but she seemed to change her mind and only smiled a little. “Good-bye, Mr. Mayhew. You and your sister will be in my prayers.”

She pulled her hand away and the loss left him cold and swaying on his feet. Yes, he must be damn tired.

“I'll see you out,” Tom said, then turned to Mina. “Will you excuse me, Mina?”

She might have nodded but Seth didn't look again. He busied himself with his gloves and headed to the door with Tom.

“There's a man here tonight who might be willing to help,” Tom said.

Seth blew out a breath. “Might, huh?”

“Fallon's his name, a clerk I've had dealings with. He's been given permission to wed recently, so he's likely about. I'll say hello, but it won't do to bring up all the particulars tonight. If we go through the correct channels—be proper, patient, even strategic—we might get the information we need.”

Seth's doubt sank deeper. Proper, patient, strategic. Wasn't his nature at all.

Tom asked the doorman to call a victoria for him, and they waited in the entry. A gentleman and his richly dressed wife passed by without acknowledging either of them.

When they were past hearing, Seth grumbled, “I spoke to that gent earlier. Said he'd do what he could. Wished me luck, even. Must've forgot me in the last quarter hour.”

“Frightfully short memory.”

“Bloody Company men,” Seth muttered, then remembered Tom. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

Out of the corner of his vision, a lady's head bobbed out from the door of the conservatory to peek at him. It was just a flash of a little face and bouncing ringlets, and when he looked, she was gone.

Two other faces appeared from around the door to gawp and disappeared just as fast.

Seth blinked. No, those women wouldn't have anything to do with him. But Tom was looking in the same direction. Suddenly, a half dozen ladies popped from around the door to look at him and stood whispering behind their hands.

And right in the middle of them was Mina.

She broke away from her friends and hurried toward him. And a lightning bolt of energy coursed through his body. Seth propped his hands on his hips and grinned as she approached. “There's nothing better than the sight of a pretty lady coming to—”

“Would you give me one of your posters, Mr. Mayhew?”

“Uh…all right.” Seth fumbled with his roll of papers.
It wasn't the best compliment he'd ever given but—

“Did anyone offer to help you?” she asked. “Did you make any connections?”

He tensed with embarrassment. “Me and Tom are getting us a strategy. Proper channels and all that.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and Seth could have sworn she grew an inch with the straightening of her spine. Mina took the poster and hurried back to her friends.

She didn't say good-bye this time. And she didn't turn around.

He shuffled back to the door. “You'll speak to Fallon then, Tom? That clerk?”

But Tom wasn't with him. He stood watching the women with a bemused look on his face. “Huh.”

“What?” Seth followed Tom's stare. The ladies were craning their necks to look at Georgie's poster.

Tom smiled slowly. “I think Mina just found you a way into the East India Company.”

The ladies took out dainty pencils and notebooks to copy from his poster. And then it all became clear.

It became damn perfect.

The Fishing Fleet.
His
Fishing Fleet. Forty-four friends of Mina's. Forty-four potential wives of Company men.

Men who'd do anything to prove themselves worthy of marriage. Like help find a wee orphan and a lost Englishwoman.

Seth laughed in surprise. “
Damn me.
I think I love that woman.” Seth patted Tom on the back. “I'm back to thinking you don't deserve her anymore.”

But Tom laughed with him.

“Got myself a fleet of ladies now, Tom.” Seth rubbed his hands together. “Better go meet the reinforcements.”

“Wait, Mayhew.”

Seth pulled up. “Now what am I doing wrong?”

“You can't approach those women without an introduction.”

“Miss Mina will—”

“A
formal
introduction. It's not Mina's place, and her friends won't like it. These women have to appear all that's proper. These early days are crucial for the unwed ladies.”

Damn. Why didn't he know any of these rules?

Three more women joined Mina. Forty-four allies…if he used Mina. If he admitted he needed her help. Well…
hell
. He didn't have time for stupid pride.

Besides, she knew what he was. And what he wasn't.

“Going to have a quick word with Miss Mina, Tom.” Seth held up a staying hand. “I'll be back directly.”

To his surprise, Tom didn't follow or try to stop him. It was the alarm in Mina's big, brown eyes that slowed his step. She handed Georgie's poster to a lady next to her and hurried to him.

No, there was nothing better than the sight of a pretty girl coming to talk to you. Especially if that girl was composed, capable, and orderly-like—and blushed whenever you looked at her. Which he enjoyed doing more than he should.

“Did you wish to see me, Mr. Mayhew?”

“Every waking moment, Miss Mina.” He grinned. “Wanted to make the acquaintance of your friends—I know that can't happen—but I appreciate your telling them about Georgie, which is the best notion and one I never would've thought of.

“Involving the
wives
might've been a bit of Lysistrata-without-the-war, but the venture girls are better. Tom's Mr. Fallon was all the plan we had. Do you think we might give the ladies a few more of my posters?”

Mina squinted at him. Damn, he was talking all over the place. Like that frog she spoke of.

“Is Mr. Fallon the only connection Thomas has?” she asked.

Clever Mina. He nodded.

Her squint relaxed, but he could almost see her brain flipping through all his words. “You know
Lysistrata
, Mr. Mayhew?”

He shrugged. “We've a theater where I grew up. A good one.”

She smiled a little, so he moved closer. Having a fine lady to himself was nice. Tom Grant would be collecting her any minute.

“I saw lots of theatricals,” he said. “Shakespeare and that Aristophanes gent and Scribe. And melodramas, too, all the bloody ones like the
Red Barn Murder.
But I liked the old plays best. The players were good, too. People said they weren't good enough for London, but they were. And real fine for Matlock.”

She stared at him, her pretty mouth dropped open with what looked like surprise. A very pretty mouth. And the most kissable—

“You're from Matlock? I'm from Chesterfield.”

“You're not! My mates live there—the Douglas boys. And me and Freddy Kent went to the public school together.”

“Fred's sister was my friend.” She shook her head, her eyes widening. “I thought there was something familiar—it wasn't your voice; it was your speech at times. East Midlands.”

He winced a little. “I med a right codge of it then, m'lover, if'n you know'd 'ow I spake.”

She giggled and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, enough, Mr. Mayhew. You mustn't give us away.”

He smiled because he'd finally made the little officer laugh, but she didn't know how hard it had been to correct the way he talked. One schoolmaster had corrected it with a switch of rowan tree, when he bothered trying to teach him at all.

His father's speech was worse—pure Black Country. As a boy, Seth hadn't understood him. And the man hadn't stayed long enough for him to learn.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Mayhew,” she said, still smiling. “It's actually rather wonderful to hear again.”

He'd never known brown eyes could shine with all that gold in them. They might have been reflecting the glow of a fire. “Is that so?” he murmured.

And though he'd not told anyone, he wanted to tell her. Wasn't anyone to tell, really—no one that wouldn't laugh at him.

He dipped his head closer to speak just for her hearing, and her eyes were still glowing. “I, uh…I bought myself a bit of land just west of there. That orchid I found, that Wilhelmina orchid, sold for a good amount, and I bought as much land as I could. Near a thousand acres. Not all of it worth farming—some oats maybe, but I'm thinking sheep, an orchard, a kitchen garden, too.”