Discovery of Desire (8 page)

Emma's eyes were wide but she was quick to nod. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

Walpole shot him a dark look, offered Emma his arm, and left Seth alone with Mina.

Who wasn't looking happy with him, either.

Seth turned away because he was probably looking like a stubborn, pouting ass. It was damn stupid of him. She was trying to help. Mina wasn't even his to—

You have the sign.

He snorted a hot breath.

“You have quite an interest in Irish bogs,” she said.

No, she wasn't happy. He shrugged. “I ask more questions than people expect.”

“And why's that?”

Hell
. He ground a clod of dirt under his boot. “Maybe because I don't look clever enough to be curious.”

Nothing?
He checked to see if she was looking at him. She was, but she wasn't one to huff or roll her eyes or screw her face up like most women after they'd gotten a little familiar with him. She wouldn't like him teasing her, either. Or trying to bluster away how he'd behaved. She took things seriously. Took him seriously, he supposed.

And he didn't know how to be with a woman like that. “Minnie—”

“
Mina
.”

“I don't need Walpole, and there wasn't any persuading him either, so you don't need to be behaving like that. I wouldn't object if you were using your wiles on me, as I'm aware I'm not to be encouraged, but not some third-rate bachelor like Walpole.”

“Mr. Mayhew—”

“Call me Seth.”

Her cheeks were turning that pretty peach color. “No matter your feeling for East India men, you must endeavor to secure their cooperation.”

“I don't have any feeling for them, good or bad. But I don't need to see some gent behaving like he deserves you just because he bought his way onto the Company payroll, or he's got some connection that put him behind a desk wearing bespoke suits—”

She caught his wrist, and even roused as he was, that surprised him into looking down at her.

“Mr. Mayhew, you must be more deferential, even if that pains you. They are all too aware that you are more interesting and accomplished a man than they are. They will not like to help you if you remind them of that.”

The hell?
He stared at her, but she looked like she believed what she was saying. And before he could puzzle out her words, she let loose of his wrist, hiked up the hem of her skirt in a fist, and swept off to a group of her friends.

The woman wasn't any of his business anyway.

But she was right about helping Georgie. Why didn't he know what was right before doing everything wrong?

He doffed his hat to comb back his hair, and positioned it back on his head careful and straight. Mina was only half-right about those gents. They didn't like his sort; they never had—but they'd tolerate him so long as he remembered his place.

So it was damn stupid of him to always be forgetting it.

And now Mina was mad at him.

He stomped toward the hunters, but they kept company with the ladies. They'd not welcome him just then. He sorted the calling cards he'd collected and stuffed them deeper in his pockets. He'd call on every one of them tomorrow, but today he'd start with that gent in the agriculture department.

After wandering to watch the servants load the rifles and ready the dogs, the men began separating from the ladies and retrieving their guns from their bearers, making a big show of inspecting their weapons.

Except for Tom Grant, who was suddenly in a hustle to get to Seth.

“Walpole just hauled me through the coals over you,” Tom said. “Don't count on any help from him.”

“I know it.”

“Why the devil—?”

“Because he was poaching Mina.”

Tom's laugh was harsh, and the anger simmering under Seth's scalp erupted. “You'll be sorry if she chooses another.”

Tom shut his eyes and held up his hands. “
All right.
The ladies are coming. Calm down your feelings.”

“I'm thinking you're a little too calm, Tom.” But Seth could say no more with Emma and Mina approaching.

“The hunt is about to start,” Emma said in a voice already mourning all the fallen snipe.

Mina moved to stand beside Tom, and damned if Seth's stupid heart didn't sink lower.

The men veered into the dry rice paddy, cut low now that the growing season was done, and the ladies walked a little behind on higher ground. The dogs were let loose, the snipe took wing, and the first volley of shots was a waste. Not one bird was hit.

“I knew I wouldn't stop one,” Tom mumbled.

“You're shooting too fast,” Seth said. “Wait until the bird's higher in the sky and less scared, not twisting to evade a predator.”

Walpole was listening and smirked at his words. “A surprising observation from a man with no gun.”

“Never hunted for sport,” Seth said, aware that everyone was suddenly listening. Including the agriculture gent.

“No?” Walpole handed his gun to his bearer to reload. “I'm rather unclear why you
are
here, then, Mr. Mayhew. Perhaps men of your situation are unaccustomed to pursuits of skill and concentration. Perhaps you are gratified only by more immoderate pastimes.”

Seth clenched his teeth. He couldn't say anything to that. He wasn't exactly sure where the insult was in those words, but it was there all the same.

Walpole would like him to tug his forelock and retreat to the line of servants, but Seth found himself looking at Mina instead. Composed, capable, orderly-like Mina. And she looked right back at him like she shared every thought in his head.

And damned if that didn't make clear as crystal what an ass Walpole was.

The men moved quietly to their next position. The hunters stood and waited, and the dogs were released. The reeds rustled as the snipe exploded from their nests, whirling into the sky. Shots rang in his ears; the birds continued to climb—save for one that jerked oddly.

Walpole's bird.

“You winged her,” Seth called to him.

“Why isn't she falling?” Walpole said.

“She's crippled,” he said. “Finish her.”

Walpole raised his second gun and then appeared to reconsider. “I'll not hit her now. It's getting near fifty yards. Look how she's flying.”

The wounded snipe frantically dipped and rose in no pattern that could be predicted, and the men murmured in agreement, as the ladies whimpered with little sounds of sympathy.

“At least try,” Seth hissed. But Walpole just flushed red, staring at the sky.

Hell.
Seth reached for Tom's extra gun, raised the rifle to his shoulder, sighted the flailing bird, and shot it from the sky. The late boom silenced all the voices. Even the dogs turned in a confused circle, seeing the bird fall so far in the distance.

“Capital shot,” a voice mumbled behind him. But no one else said a word.

Walpole shouldered his rifle, turned, and stomped off. The Company men pretended no notice of the departure and avoided looking at Seth at all.

Ah…damn. Of course they wouldn't. Walpole was one of them. And Seth wasn't but a laborer in a secondhand coat.

Mina frowned, for the bird or him, he couldn't tell. But she had a worried crease between her brows he didn't like at all.

Thomas gaped at him. “You said you never shot for sport.”

“Not for sport,” he muttered, handing Tom his gun. “I hunted plenty. On expedition, we had need of fresh game.”

Birds were flushed once more but not one was hit, and the men quickly lost their enthusiasm for the shooting.

“Ladies,” the stout man who'd addressed them earlier signaled for their attention. “Alas, the Indian snipe is devilishly hard to hit.” His eyes snagged on Seth but darted away. “So…shall we return to the picnic ground?”

The party headed back. Seth left Tom and Mina alone to their courting, and walked beside one gent after the next. But try as he might, there wasn't a man who swapped more than three words with him now. The man in agriculture didn't let him come within ten paces.

He shouldn't have bothered to come. It was clear he wasn't a Company man or a gentleman or even a soldier. The only way someone like him would get information would be to pay for it.

He prepared a plate and retreated from the party to sit alone on a hill overlooking the lake and began to eat.

“A lovely prospect, Mr. Mayhew.”

Startled, Seth looked up as Mina kneeled gracefully to balance her plate and sit beside him. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and swallowed, but couldn't think of anything to say. She waved Tom and Emma over and they sat, too.

Confused, he stared at her but she pretended no notice. He looked back at his food. Mina wouldn't let him sit alone.

Damn me. A lady from the ground up
.

No. A
defender
. That's what she was and what he'd seen the first time he looked at her. A lady who'd defend her friends against a mob of bachelors. And a sister from a strange, new world. And even a hulking six-foot-three explorer from a whole tribe of East India Company men.

A lady who chose a side. And she was on his. Somehow he knew that more than he knew anything else.

Wasn't much that shut his mouth, but gratitude must be one because he ate in silence as Mina, Tom, and Emma talked.

After a time, the voices of the party changed, grew faint.

“Appears the picnic is over.” Tom rose and helped the ladies to their feet.

The carriages were being packed and the dogs shooed into their wagon. Seth stood and wiped the grass from his trousers. “I suppose we better—” He cut off at the sight of Tom whispering in Mina's ear.

Well. They were meant to be doing that. And it was about time Tom got on with it. Maybe Tom would settle their marriage tonight.

Seth slapped his hat on his thigh, pretending to knock the dust off it. “You three go on back without me.” He started to plod down the side of the hill. “I got a ride back with a gent I spoke to after the hunt.”

“Who?” Tom asked, stalling him from his escape.

“The man's got an interest in South America,” he said. “He offered a seat in his carriage. Wants to hear about my time in Brazil.”

Tom looked confused, but he nodded. Thankfully, he didn't press for a name. “Good. Let's hope he has some influence in the Company. I'll see you in the morning.”

Tom and Emma headed to the carriages with the rest of the party. But Mina paused, that worried crease on her brow was back. “I didn't see you talk to anyone.”

He waved her off. “Go on now, Minnie.”

She started to leave, then turned back. “Will I… I
will
see you again, won't I?”

Seth smiled.
The little officer…still trying to keep her soldiers in rank and file.
“I'd not leave Bombay without saying good-bye to you.”

Her face looked pale but maybe it was a trick of light. “Will you promise me?”

The soft words winged his heart and spun it. Just like that little snipe. “I promise,” he said quietly. “Go on now, Minnie. Tom's waiting.”

Her hand clutched the pocket of her skirt. Seemed she did that when she wasn't sure about things.

“I'll see you again, I think,” she said. “There's a zoo outing on the eleventh. Thomas has promised to come. You'll come, won't you?”

A tired sigh escaped him. “A zoo, is it?”

She nodded. “I'd like to see you.”

And that was a direct hit. “I'll try, Minnie.”

With a final plea in her brown eyes, she turned to catch up with her sister and Tom.

Seth walked toward some carriages and out of her view. Then he kept walking until he was hidden from everyone and found a boulder to sit on and wait. He wouldn't be asking anyone for a ride. There wasn't a man here who'd welcome him in his carriage while they were courting. Besides, nine miles was an easy distance when he was used to walking more than thirty a day on expedition. And the exercise would keep his mind quiet.

He couldn't think right now about how he didn't fit with any of these marrying men, or the mistakes he'd somehow made today. Or how maybe the only curse there really was, was one he'd brought on himself with every stupid choice he'd made. He couldn't think on that. Not now.

He couldn't think how he might not be enough to save Georgie.

“For an animal that could crush us, he looks friendly,” Emma said.

The zoo elephant did indeed seem to be wearing a smile. He almost seemed to be winking at them.

Mina said nothing as she took in the sweet animal. As a social outing, the Bombay Zoological Gardens was a perversely fitting locale for the Company men to examine the female wildlife on display. The cages, the landscaping, the wide promenade—a picturesque habitat for the unclaimed venture girls.

Mina frowned seeing the small group of ladies and Company men strolling ahead of them. Such a small group of ladies now. Their population was rapidly declining. Facing extinction, actually.

The elephant nodded his ponderous head as if agreeing.

“He is a dear thing, isn't he?” Mina said. “So placid and amiable. And mammoth. The drawings in the
Illustrated News
hardly did justice to his size.”

A moment of contemplative silence passed before Emma said, “I wonder how Mr. Mayhew is faring.”

Mina smiled, squeezing Emma's hand. “If Mr. Mayhew
were
an animal, he might be an elephant.”

“While my Colin Rivers would be that neckless hyena,” Emma said. “The one with the mange.”

Mina eyed her sister. “I had not wanted to broach the subject of Mr. Rivers but—”

“Then why are you?”

She started carefully. “You threw your hairbrush at the mirror this morning.”

Emma shrugged. “My hair has been impossible. The humidity is provoking.”

“And the hotel deskman?”

“He knows how anxious I am. Why must I queue each and every time to inquire after my letters?”

“Because—”

“And why
are
you broaching the matter?
You
are not yet engaged and it's been eight days. You might keep your concern for your own marriage.”

Her own—
That stung, but Mina kept her tongue between her teeth. Emma knew very well matters were not as simple as all that. Not when so much hinged on the absent Colin Rivers.

But of all her sisters, Emma had the quickest temper—

“I'm sorry,” Emma mumbled. “I'm horrid.”

And the shortest-lived one. “No, you're distressed.”

Emma swatted at the netting of her hat. “What if he does not come, Mina?”

Swallowing the usual panic that question bred, Mina kept her voice calm. “Then I will speak to Thomas.”

“He won't want his wife's sister in their home.”

“Then we begin again, that's all. We find two new bachelors living in the same district.”

“But if Mr. Rivers—”

“We must give him a reasonable amount of time, and no longer.”

“A month more?”

Poor Emma. She cared for her letter-writing beau more than she would admit. “A fortnight, I think.”

Emma fell silent, her gaze on the ladies strolling with the Company men ahead of them. “I know you're right. The best bachelors have already been claimed. I just wonder… Mr. Rivers
did
pay my bond to sail. And we are contracted to marry. Is a fortnight a fair amount of time?”

“Could you bear to wait longer?”

“No…I suppose not,” Emma said quietly.

“And we cannot afford to wait, Emma.” Mina didn't want to frighten her younger sister, so she said this as lightly and as simply as she could. That always seemed to work best.

A quiet moment passed before Emma spoke. “I heard Mr. Rivers sent his last communication from a post in the Upper Mekong River Valley.”

Surprised, Mina looked at her sister. “Who told you that?”

“Alice. Yesterday, Sarah said that Vicky heard the news from the wife of a director.”

“How long ago was the letter sent?”

“Months ago. He's drawn funds from his accounts since, but no one has seen or heard from him.” Emma stared at the ground. “Do you think something's wrong, Mina? They tell me that region is dangerous, the borderland between Tibet and China.”

The borderland…where the massacre occurred. Where Georgiana Mayhew had traveled. “I don't know, Emma.”

“He did write lovely letters,” Emma said softly.

Mina linked arms with her sister.

“Mina.” Emma tugged her arm to gain her attention. “What's the difference between an Indian elephant and an African one?”

“I don't know.”

“About three thousand miles.”

Mina stared at Emma. “Goodness. Was that a joke?”

Emma's blue eyes glinted with the faintest humor—a valiant humor. She hugged Emma's arm. They
would
stay together. She had not sailed all this way to abandon another sister.

They continued their walk, slowly pacing after their party as they neared the monkey cages.

Mina checked her timepiece. Where was Thomas?

“He's just late,” Emma said, guessing her thoughts. “Thomas has much to do with Mr. Mayhew.”

“Yes.” Would Thomas bring Mr. Mayhew? Did she want him to? Part of her wished to believe she and Thomas would be engaged by now without the distraction of Seth Mayhew. That Thomas's attention would be hers, and he would promise to shelter Emma because there would be such an understanding between them that there would be no need for her to plead for her sister.

And yet the other part desperately wanted a happy ending for Mr. Mayhew and for Georgiana.

A happy ending for them all.

“I think that is why Thomas has not made his offer,” Emma continued. “He knows he has neglected you these first days.”

“Perhaps it's better he has not. Not without Colin Rivers secured.”

“I think that makes him a very superior sort of gentleman, Mina, allowing us this time to wait.”

She wasn't at all convinced of his motivation. “Yes, he's very”—
what?
—“pragmatic.”

Emma frowned but smoothed her countenance immediately. “Then he is perfect for you. Two such pragmatic, managing people—”

“I'm not managing.”

“—it hardly seems fair. You ought to marry a complete wastrel and rehabilitate him.”

“And if our children resemble the wastrel?”

“Then you will rehabilitate them, too. You always did take care of everyone. Not that Thomas will ever need such help.”

The words struck Mina cold. That was true. She would be a resourceful, economical wife.

To a man who required one.

They wandered nearer the monkey exhibit, lingering behind their friends who strolled with Company men. Would the ladies remember to ask after Georgiana Mayhew today? She would have to remind them again. Perhaps she might meet some of the gentlemen herself?

“You
do
like him, don't you, Mina?”

“Yes, of course. Mr. Mayhew is very likable.”

Emma slowed her step. “I was speaking of Thomas.”

Oh…stupid.
“Yes, of course. I like Thomas as well.”

Emma raised a brow and waited.

Well, what matter if she knew? Mina sighed. “It is just…sometimes I have the strangest feeling with Thomas. He doesn't seem willing to take me into his confidence at all. It's as if he were already claimed by another.” She reached for the pebble in her pocket, the stone's smooth contour so familiar. “If we wed, we need to be friends, companions. It doesn't matter if he loves me but—”

“
Mina!
”

Emma's admonishment was immediate, but there was no conviction behind it. And that broke Mina's heart. Because Emma knew it was the truth.

“We left our sisters, Emma. Our home. Love doesn't matter.” She squeezed Emma's arm. “We learned that dearly from Mary, didn't we?”

Emma's eyes clouded with sadness. Ahead, the ladies giggled at something one of the gentlemen said, and Emma leveled her chin. “One week, Mina. Not two.”

Mina understood. There was only ever one man on Emma's mind—for all the turmoil he was causing. Colin Rivers had one week to reach Bombay.

Tears pricked her eyes and she turned to hide her face. Emma might possess the quickest temper in the family, but she also possessed the most rigid code of right and wrong. Even if Mr. Rivers returned before Wednesday next, she might never forgive him this offense.

“India is a large country,” Emma said. “Full of Englishmen desperate for English brides. Whomever one of us chooses, wherever he lives, there will be an available gentleman for the other.”

“Yes.” Everything will be all right. Mina knew that.

When she was feeling brave, she even believed that.

“We are falling behind.” Emma nudged her forward.

“Yes—” She cut off at the sight of two men walking toward them. Thomas and Mr. Mayhew. The men had their heads together as they approached, their expressions serious. Still in the midst of their planning, then. Recognizing them in their hats would have been difficult if not for Mr. Mayhew's broad shoulders and long, easy stride.

Thomas wore a crisp pith helmet that was the very picture of British India. And Mr. Mayhew, in his safari hat and slim, low-slung trousers—
Oh, honestly.
She ought to be able to
look
at the man without her body heating so stupidly.

But evidently she
had
wanted Thomas to bring Mr. Mayhew. She'd had no assurance he would come, and as invulnerable as he appeared, not knowing what his sister might be enduring had to be awful.

Mina shook off her reverie and smiled at Thomas, her future husband—God willing.

“Good afternoon, Mina.” Thomas nodded to Emma. “Emma.”

“I'm so pleased you were able to join us,” Mina said. Mr. Mayhew doffed his hat and stood back, a small smile on his lips. “And how have you been, Mr. Mayhew?”

“Sadder than the tears of a puppy without the sight of you, Miss Mina.”

Her cheeks warmed, but in her relief in seeing him, she didn't mind. “Really, Mr. Mayhew, you will swell my head. You must stop your flattery.”

“Yes, Mayhew,” Thomas said dryly. “
Stop
.”

Mr. Mayhew nodded to Emma. “Miss Emma, aren't you looking well?”

Emma beamed, her cheeks blushing. “Oh, thank you, Mr. May—”

“What's this little monkey, then?” Mr. Mayhew turned to peer into the cage. “A gray langur? Looks like my Uncle Fred except his side-whiskers are a bit tidier. The monkey's, I mean.”

Emma deflated without a better compliment of her own.

No, Mina did not understand men at all. Emma was the most beautiful of all her sisters. Mr. Mayhew's flirtation was as disordered as his conversation. And already, he was studying the party of Company men.

“Tom, know any of the gents up there?” he asked.

A look of surprise flashed across Thomas's face. “The one with the beard. Turnbull's his name. He's usually in Calcutta. He's secretary to the agriculture board of directors.”

“An important gentleman, then,” Mina said.

“He'd have access to information of Georgiana's crew.” Thomas held Seth's eye. “We were in Calcutta together for that unpleasant bit of time. I'm not the man to make an introduction.”

Confused, Mina waited for an explanation, but Mr. Mayhew simply nodded, rocking on his heels. The man seemed to constantly be in motion. He dipped his head down to hers. “Who's that lady with him, Miss Mina?”

A warm fragrance of shaving soap enveloped her. He really had to stop talking in her ear like this. “That is Amelia Radcliffe. She knows of Georgiana. She was at the Byculla Club that night.”

He nodded, his eyes sharp and intent on the company ahead, and she tensed with excitement for his opportunity. But when he turned to meet her gaze, his sea-green eyes crinkled warmly and all he said was, “That hat is awfully becoming on you, Minnie.”

The words were too low for anyone else to hear but she blushed to the roots of her hair. “You are a terrible flirt, Mr. Mayhew,” she whispered.

He grinned and straightened from her, and she concentrated on cooling her heated face—which was impossible, as he wouldn't look away. “Emma and I visited the shops on Rampart Row this morning. Our
sola topees
, that is what they call sun hats here, were recommended. As were these tinted glasses for the sun.”

“But how will I see those pretty brown eyes?”

“Look, Seth, a baboon,” Thomas said dryly.

Mr. Mayhew winked at her. “Got no time for monkeys, Tom.” And without another word, he fitted his hat and strode in the direction of the Company men.

Thomas wiped a weary hand over his face. That
was
a habit of his, then.

“Do you think Mr. Turnbull might help?” she asked.

Tom sighed. “I'm not hopeful.”

“But how could anyone refuse to help him?” Emma said, sounding decidedly smitten.

“He has no real connections,” Thomas said, not understanding that was meant as a rhetorical question. Absently, he offered Mina his arm, and she took it with a smile that he did not notice. “And worst of all, many Company men have secured their brides in the days since the
shikar
and feel no need to honor their promises to lend aid.”

It took her a moment to comprehend, then anger spiked in her. “
Who
has not?”

Thomas's brows rose with mild amusement at the question. “Shall I provide a list?”

“A list?” she breathed in horror. How could Thomas smile at a time like this? “There are so many?”

“Well—”

“Then, yes, a list would serve,” she said. “Emma and I can inform their fiancées of their conduct and inconstancy.”

“Indeed.” Emma huffed. “Are they men, or are they weathercocks?”

“Well…uh,” Thomas stammered in the face of two, suddenly indignant women. “I suppose I could write up that list.”

“
Today
, Thomas,” Emma demanded pointedly.