by Maya Banks
“Miss Ashton,” he began.
“Please,” she said softly, her tongue wetting her lips in her nervousness. “If we are to be partners, call me India.”
India. No matter how strange a name he thought it before, it suited her. It was as different as she was. Pleasingly so.
“Then you must call me Ridge. I would be honored to have you address me as my friends do.”
To his delight, she smiled. An action that transformed her entire face. He stared, fascinated as her eyes warmed.
“Ridge. I like that,” she said huskily.
Then as if forgetting herself, she donned a more solemn expression and turned back to her work.
He turned when Moreland entered the study.
“My Lord, you have a caller.”
Ridge twitched in annoyance and cast a glance back at India. He wanted to be at hand when the translation was finished.
“Do go on, my lord,” she urged. “I shall be a while yet.”
“I thought we agreed you would call me Ridge,” he prompted softly.
She flushed. “Very well...Ridge. Do go see to your caller.”
“I’ll return shortly,” he said as he walked out of the study. He closed the door behind him to afford her privacy and nearly ran into Udaya.
“Pardon, Sahib,” she said, bowing her head slightly.
“Miss Ashton will be working in the study,” he said pointedly, hoping she understood his unspoken directive.
“Of course. With your permission, Kavi and I will retire to our chamber. Should India have need, you will send for me.”
It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t take it as such. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “She is very lucky to have such a devoted...family,” he added, remembering India’s correction.
“I do not approve of this journey.”
Ridge’s eyes widened in surprise at her boldness.
A disapproving frown twisted Udaya’s lips. “She needs time to rest and heal.”
“Heal?” What the devil was she going on about now?
Her sari swirling about her feet, she turned and walked gracefully away, leaving him to shake his head. The whole lot of them were strange.
Still shaking his head, he strode down the hall toward the drawing room. When he entered and saw who was waiting, he nearly turned and walked out again.
“Ridge!” Lucinda Hadley elegantly rose and hurried over to him, hands outstretched to his.
He stood unmoving, his hands firmly at his side.
She slowly let hers drop and donned a pouting expression. One that had served her well in the past. “Surely you aren’t still cross with me, Ridge.” She ran a gloved hand down his chest and let it rest above the buttons on his waistcoat.
He grasped her hand and pulled it away from him. “What are you doing here, Lucinda? Where is Robby?”
She turned away with a flounce, throwing him a look of consternation over one pale shoulder. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. Not a single strand of blond hair was out of place, artfully arranged to its best advantage. Cornflower blue eyes glistened with the promise of innocence, a testament to how well she had mastered the art of deceit.
At one time, he had been completely under her spell. He now spent every day thanking God he had escaped relatively unscathed.
She perched daintily on the edge of the settee and drew out a lacy handkerchief. With her flare for drama, she sniffed delicately and dabbed at her eyes.
“Oh, Ridge. I vow I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barely. He walked to the sideboard and poured himself a generous amount of brandy. Amazing how the woman drove a man to drink within minutes of her appearance. “Whatever is your latest crisis now,” he asked dryly. “And how, pray tell, does it involve me?”
“You’re so cold,” she complained. “You didn’t use to treat me with such disdain.”
“That was before you married my brother,” he said mildly, turning back around to face her.
“But that’s just it,” she wailed. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.
Ridge froze. Then he set aside his drink and crossed the room to stand before her. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her roughly up to face him. “What the devil are you talking about, Lucinda?”
She let out a breathy sigh and leaned into him. “I knew you would receive the news with excitement.”
He thrust her away and stepped hurriedly back. “This isn’t a game,” he gritted out. “What have you done to Robby?”
She twisted her lips scornfully. “Is he all you care about?” Her eyes raked imploringly over him. “There was a time when you cared for me.”
“That was before I discovered what a calculating bitch you are.”
She gasped, color rising high in her cheeks. “How dare you speak to me that way!” She swayed dramatically, her hand fluttering over her chest. Then she settled heavily back onto the settee.
Ridge stared at her in disgust. How had he ever felt anything for her, much less want to marry her? A year ago, he’d been ready to settle down and breed heirs. He’d found the perfect viscountess and future countess. She had impeccable breeding and she was madly in love with him. Or so he’d thought.
It was humiliating enough that she jilted him, but to do so for his younger brother, a man with no title, no inheritance. How awful the prospect of life with him must have been if she couldn’t even stomach him for his title, something most women would sell their souls for.
He shook his head, willing the lingering anger and humiliation away. “Where is Robby?”
“At his club, I suppose,” she said snidely. “It’s where he spends most of his days. There or at his father’s estate.”
“And why are you here?” he asked, leveling a hard stare at her.
She dabbed at her eyes with the lace again. “I don’t know what to do. I fear I’ve made a terrible mistake in marrying him.”
“And why are you here?” he asked again.
She flushed. “Must you make things so difficult? Do you want me to beg? Very well. I’m here to implore you to take me back. Marrying Robby was a mistake. But it isn’t too late for us,” she said, pleading with him with her eyes.
He nearly laughed. “You aren’t stupid, Lucinda. You know what you ask is impossible, even if I still wanted you.”
Her mouth rounded in an O of shock. “But...”
“You should go now and stop playing your silly games.”
Her face reddened, then fury flashed in her eyes. “You’ll regret this,” she hissed.
“I already do.”
She flounced by him her hands gripping her skirts. He watched as she stalked into the hall and toward the front door. Moreland would see her out.
His teeth ached from the tension in his jaw. What was the woman up to with her theatrics? He could no more marry her now than he could become king, and he wasn’t in the market for a mistress. He’d sooner bed a viper.
Robby. Where was Robby in all of this? He strode from the drawing room to call for his carriage. “Moreland,” he said, as he gripped the handle of the front door. “Inform Miss Ashton that I shall return shortly.”
###
India’s hand ached from the speed in which she scribbled. But finally she was through with the translation. She tamped down any excitement she felt and quickly folded the papers in front of her into a tiny square. She shoved them into the waistband of her breeches and returned her attention to the writing before her.
Only she would have the true translation. Her father’s life depended on it. Her fingers smoothed over the crinkled paper she had written the misleading directions on. There was enough information to make it appear genuine, but certainly not enough to lead anyone to the city.
She leaned back in her seat, stretching her tired muscles. She glanced up at the clock, surprised that so many hours had passed since she’d begun the task of decip
hering the text. Where was the viscount? She couldn’t imagine him not eager to see the final result.
Again, she felt an unwanted pang of guilt at her deception. She pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers and rubbed absently. Stop being weak. Weakness was for victims.
Pressing her palms down on the polished surface of the mahogany desk, she pushed herself up. She needed to stretch her legs and her cramped back muscles.
She walked over to the window and stared out at the small garden in the back courtyard. Neatly kept, but not overly generous with blooms, it spoke volumes about the viscount’s character. Modest and not overly cluttered.
The door clicked behind her, and she turned, expecting to see the viscount. Before she could register who was entering, pain speared through her head with lightning speed. Rough hands grasped her arms and dragged her across the room.
She struggled wildly, the pain nearly making her retch. What had struck her? The large armoire loomed before her, and before she could react, she was thrown inside. The door slammed behind her and she tried to sit up inside the cramped space.
Oh God. Not the dark. She felt the already small space closing in around her. Panic rose in her chest, swelling in her throat until she feared she’d stop breathing. Her hands pounded against the doors, hoping to budge them, but they remained tightly closed.
No. No. No. Her brain hummed a desperate litany. Anything but this. She wouldn’t survive it.
Chapter Five
Ridge walked into White’s, his eyes scanning the interior for his brother. Did Robby know about Lucinda’s change of heart? Dread thrummed through his veins at the prospect of facing his brother with what he knew.
His gaze took in Lord Clarence slouched in a corner nursing a drink. With any luck, Lord Clarence was in too much of a stupor to take note of Ridge.
He found Robby eating alone at one of the dining tables, and he slid into the chair across from him.
Robby looked up in surprise. “Ridge! What are you doing here?”
“How are you, Robby?” He couldn’t keep the affection from his voice. No matter the past, Robby was his little brother.
“I’m well,” he said around a mouthful of food. He swallowed rapidly and took a long drink from his glass of wine.
Ridge raised an eyebrow. “Good?” He stared intently at Robby, probing him with his eyes. It was like looking a miniature of himself. Same dark hair, same dark eyes, only Robby’s eyes were usually alight with mischief. Today they were dull.
Robby flushed and his eyes dropped to his plate. “Maybe not so good,” he mumbled.
“Care to tell me about it?”
Robby wiped his mouth with his table napkin and shoved his plate aside. “It’s deuced embarrassing to be telling you this, but the fact of the matter is my marriage is in ruins.”
Ridge flinched from the bald honesty in his brother’s voice. A hint of pain colored the statement, but mostly, it was devoid of any emotion. “What happened?” he asked softly.
Robby sighed. Then he looked at Ridge with pain-filled eyes. “I thought she loved me.”
Ridge remained silent, not willing to embarrass himself by commiserating with Robby. He could say a lot of things, but he wouldn’t. “You loved her.”
“Love is rather a useless emotion, wouldn’t you say?”
Ridge nodded. In this he was willing to commiserate.
“I thought I loved her. Why else would the fact that she has no use for me hurt like the devil?”
“I don’t know what to say, Robby.”
“There’s nothing to say,” he said, sitting upright and clearing his face of the harsh pain. He flashed a weak grin at Ridge. “So tell me, is Father right about you jaunting off to the wilds of some God forsaken country?”
Ridge reluctantly accepted the change in topic. Telling Robby of Lucinda’s visit served no purpose other than to drive the dagger deeper into his heart.
“I am planning an expedition, yes.”
Robby leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I’d like to go with you.”
Ridge’s mouth dropped open. “You what? Robby, that isn’t possible.”
“Why not? I’d like nothing better than to leave the country for a while.”
Ridge sat back running a hand through his hair. His father would suffer apoplexy if he knew what Robby was contemplating. And he’d never forgive Ridge for allowing Robby to take up Ridge’s interests. A compelling reason to let Robby go. He grinned at the idea of his father’s ire.
“No. It’s not a good idea, Robby. I don’t even know where I’m going yet.”
“Come now, Ridge. I’m not a child to coddle. I am capable of making my own decisions. I’ve always envied you, and now you’re poised to go on a grand adventure.”
Robby envied him? Ridge blinked in surprise. It seemed incomprehensible that a man who had always enjoyed their father’s approval would be envious of someone who could do no right in their father’s eyes.
“Father would die,” Ridge began.
Robby waved his hand in irritation. “A pox on what he thinks. I’m tired of being the golden child. The one who never does any wrong. Just once I’d like to do something insensible.”
Ridge’s jaw gaped open. It was as if he had spoken his inner most thoughts aloud. Only Robby had been the one to voice them.
“You’re serious about this.”
“Very serious,” Robby said evenly.
“Very well then. I’d love to have you along.”
Robby’s face split into a wide grin. He reached over and clapped Ridge on the shoulder. “When do we leave?”
Ridge grimaced. “There’s something you should know. We won’t be going alone. Phillip Ashton’s daughter is accompanying me. She’s translating the journal I have which I believe outlines the location of the city of Pagoria.”
Robby waggled his eyebrows in confusion. Then he laughed. “I have no idea what you’re going on about, but it sounds like jolly good fun to me. Just tell me when we leave. I’ll have my bags packed.”
Ridge grinned for the first time, his brother’s enthusiasm catching. “I’ll send a note around. And Robby,” he said leveling a stare at his brother. “This expedition is of utmost secrecy. You are to tell no one of our plans.” At Robby’s nod, Ridge checked his fob then rose from his seat. “I must take my leave.” He stretched out a hand and squeezed Robby’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Robby shrugged. “Don’t be.”
Ridge walked away, glancing back to see his brother shove his drink away. He shook his head and continued across the floor. He should have refused Robby’s request, but he’d never been able to refuse his brother anything.
“Ho, Ridgewood!” Lord Clarence called from his seat in the corner.
Ridge froze and slowly turned around. “Is there something you want, Lord Clarence?”
“Come have a drink with me,” he said, raising his glass in a toast.
Ridge shook his head, casting a dubious look at the snake. He turned to go, but Lord Clarence yelled out again.
“Be a sport, Ridgewood. Are you too good to drink with the gentlemen at White’s?” Lord Clarence clamored up and stuttered across the floor to stand in front of Ridge.
He swayed slightly, and his breath reeked of spirits as he puffed in Ridge’s face. “Time to let bygones be bygones, old chap.”
“I have a pressing appointment,” Ridge said tightly, backing away from the drunken man.
Panic flared in Lord Clarence’s eyes. “No, you mustn’t leave yet. We haven’t had our drink.” He reached out and grasped Ridge’s arm.
Ridge yanked his arm away. “I think it best if I take my leave before I do something we both regret.”
Before Lord Clarence could protest further, Ridge stalked away. The man was reprehensible. A complete disgrace to his father.
He sobered as he stepped into his carriage. His own father considered him a disgrace. That
made him little better than Lord Clarence. How mortifying to be cut from the same cloth as a man like the duke’s whelp.
He curled his lips in disgust. His departure from England couldn’t come too soon. Finally he would take a step to fulfilling his dreams. He bitterly envied India and her lifestyle. No one to please but herself, going where the wind took her. No roots. No obligations except to herself.
He closed his eyes imagining himself in such a position. The image gave him innumerable pleasure. Sailing with the tides. Caravanning through the desert. Hiking up the mountains. He wanted it so much it hurt. And now he’d finally have it.
The ride home seemed interminable. He was anxious to see if India was finished with the journal. He could scarcely wait to make their travel arrangements. Where would they journey to? Africa? India? China?
Finally the carriage pulled to a stop in front of his home, and he quickly descended the steps. When he entered the house, he was greeted by silence. He looked around for Moreland, but the butler never appeared.
Ridge frowned and headed for the study. To his shock, he nearly stumbled across the prostrate form of Moreland just outside the foyer.
He knelt beside the elderly man, fearing the worst. Blood oozed from his temple, but upon examination, Ridge found him to be breathing. Then he stood upright. India!
He rushed to the study, throwing open the door. The room was empty and nothing seemed out of order. As he approached the desk, he found the journal gone and no paper where he’d left some for India.
An odd sound reverberated through the room. He stopped and stood still then slowly turned around, seeking the source of the noise. It sounded weak. Had he really heard it? He strained to hear it again. His eyes zeroed in on the armoire by the door.
He crossed the room in seconds, twisting the key in the lock and yanking open the heavy door. To his shock, India sat curled into a tight ball, her body shaking like a leaf. He swore violently and reached in to pick her up.
She never acknowledged him as he bore her across the room, her body pressed tightly to his chest. Her skin was hot, clammy to the touch, and her eyes were vacant, dull.
