by Imogene Nix
In vain, he’d sought to banish the memories, concentrating on his task and the demands of Lord Lytton. In the days since last seeing Elspeth, he’d felt on edge. Raw. He hated feeling out of control.
The heat of the morning sun beat down on him as he entered the building and walked down the cool corridor of power. The squeak of feet on the tiles echoed. This was something he understood, could deal with. He breathed deeply, settling his mind on his set task as he rounded a corner to see his destination waiting just ahead.
“Major Fitzsimmons?” Lytton’s secretary’s words broke through his thoughts.
“Yes. I’m here to see Lord Lytton.”
The man was short and wiry, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, but he carried an air of self-possession about him. “If you will take a seat, Major, I will see if his lordship will attend you.” He gave a snappy nod, turned on highly polished, squeaking shoes, and sauntered off.
Aeddan suppressed the desire to ignore the annoyingly officious man and march into the room, but instead settled himself on the uncomfortable timber chair. He’d only been there a matter of minutes when the heavy wood door opened and Lord Lytton stepped toward him.
Lytton had an aristocratic high forehead and sleepy eyes that belayed the keen intelligence of the man. He also carried an air of command. “Come in, Fitzsimmons.”
Aeddan stood, brushed down his pant leg, and entered the room after his lordship. “Sir.”
“So, what did you learn? We’ve been waiting for you to return with the information. You made excellent time.”
Aeddan handed him the packet of papers, which Lytton accepted and opened.
He scanned the documents, then laid them on his table. “Your thoughts?”
Aeddan ran through the mass of impressions he had collected during his time in Kabul. “It would seem the Russian contingent is hopeful of forming an alliance with the Sheh, but he’s dismissed their request, for now. However, there is chatter in the markets that there are still pockets of resistance since the ousting of Mohammad Afzal Khan.”
“Hmm.” Lytton frowned, rubbing is beard as he walked around the imposing desk filling the middle of the room. “And you think this might—”
“If anything, I think he may be more inclined to remain neutral. He’s taken that stand since regaining his position as Amir in sixty-eight.”
Lytton stopped, his back to Aeddan, and not for the first time, Fitzsimmons wondered at the machinations that brought a man like this to India.
The room was silent but for the occasional tick of the clock in the corner.
“I know you wish to be released from your duties to the crown, but I have one more role for you to play. Over the next several months, I need someone to keep their ear to the ground here in Calcutta and to take a journey into the interior. Listen to the ordinary people and gain their perspective. I believe there are those who would undermine our position here.”
“But sir...” He lurched, gritting his teeth. He had responsibilities and a future to plan.
Lytton looked at him, his face hard and his gaze as flat as any warrior’s. “I need men I can trust. I have sent another envoy to Kabul, demanding the opportunity for a mission. I believe it will fail, and we will possibly need to force the issue. I need someone here, in southern India, to investigate the rumors of a leak. I need someone the crown can trust.”
Aeddan tensed. “I need to return home. My father—”
“Yes, he’s aging. But if we can’t fortify the empire, then you may have less of a title to return to. I need your help, man. We have many fronts on which the empire remains in jeopardy. Your empire needs help. Your queen needs your skills.”
Aeddan ground his teeth together. He was no one’s fool, because if what Lytton was asking for was indeed as important as he said, then truly everything they had achieved so far was in danger. Lytton wouldn’t make such a request lightly.
“And then...”
“Then you will be free to travel home and take up your position in society.”
Even as Lytton spoke, the familiar heaviness of his future crashed down upon him. A wife. Children. Would they be able to fulfill him as effectively as his work for the crown?
“Now, I hear Forster Shipping arrived with some extra cargo? My wife is most keen to meet Miss Forster and her sister. I believe you have been offering her some assistance?” The lightning change in conversation momentarily took Aeddan by surprise.
“Err, yes. Miss Forster has taken up residence in a vacant house with her sister.” He was uncomfortably aware that Lytton was sizing up his reaction to the change of conversational tack. “She wishes to learn more about her suppliers.”
Lytton lowered himself into his leather chair. “Take a seat, Aeddan, because I think this might be the opportunity we are looking for.”
* * * *
“Isabelle, do you feel up to socializing, dearest?” Elspeth picked the invitation up from the table. Over the last week, the pile had grown daily. “We really should make an effort, if you feel improved.” She turned, her gown swishing a little on the tiled floor.
“Oh, sister, I feel so much better. Yes, I believe it is time for us to enter society. Do you think Major Fitzsimmons will be attending?”
The major had called several times to check everything was as it should be. It left her wondering on more than one occasion just what dark game he was engaged in.
“I believe he will, Isabelle. But oh dear, whatever will we wear? Most of our gowns are heavy and with this heat...”
Jacinthe entered the room, the padding of her soft slippers barely making a sound. “I know of a dressmaker. She’s quick and does quality work. And what’s more, many of the memsahib’s wear pale colors, so you could choose paler tones, which are cooler.” She moved around the room, collecting their hats and parasols. “If you wish, she can come here to do your fittings. And her fees are very reasonable too.”
Elspeth had already discovered just how reasonable most vendors were in India. She made a split-second decision. “Yes, send for her. How soon might she have a gown ready for us, do you think?”
“It may take her a day or two, depending on how many others she can find to work on the gowns at the same time.” Jacinthe bowed deeply, as was her way.
Elspeth smiled. Certainly this would be an easy way of upgrading their wardrobe quickly and inexpensively, and perhaps the woman would be willing to discuss her sources of materials. “Excellent then. Now, let us check through the invitations at hand, so we can plan.”
Jacinthe bowed once more and left Elspeth alone with Isabelle.
“Elspeth, Jacinthe is a treasure. And her voice? It lilts so beautifully. I wonder... Do you think she would come back to England with us when we leave here? I’ve become quite fond of her in these last couple of days. And without Ellie...” Isabelle’s voice trailed away.
“I do hope so. She has already become quite invaluable to me. She’s skilled with hair and mending, and she is also excellent company.” Elspeth lowered herself carefully into the well-padded seat as the door opened once more.
Isabelle straightened up as Jacinthe entered the room. “I’m sorry to intrude, but Major Fitzsimmons is at the door.”
“Do show him in, Jacinthe.”
The girl bobbed a curtsy and disappeared only to return with the major at her heels. Elspeth rose, uncertain what he might want with her today.
“Ladies. I do hope I haven’t caught you at an inopportune time? Miss Isabelle, I’m pleased to see you are improving in health. Why, you look positively lovely.”
Isabelle glowed under his enthusiastic greeting, and an uncomfortable emotion filled Elspeth. Taking her seat, Elspeth waited for him to settle opposite her.
“I came to see if you’d be interested in attending a small soirée. Lady Lytton is hopeful that you would and sent me to enquire about the possibility.”
Elspeth watched him, just as she had every other time he’d called. He was comfortable in the social set
ting, expansive even. He smiled easily and wore civilian clothes as if they were his usual garb.
“We were just planning on discussing the invitations at hand. Let me see...” She flicked through those in her grasp, spying the one of which he spoke, the dark script outlining the details. “Oh yes. Tomorrow? Well, I’m sure we could attend, as long as Isabelle feels up to it.”
Isabelle smiled broadly. “Oh, that would indeed be a grand outing. I’m rather looking forward to seeing something other than here.”
“That’s settled then. I’ll bring my carriage.”
Isabelle beamed while the tea trolley rumbled into the room. Elspeth concentrated on pouring the drinks as Major Fitzsimmons chatted with Isabelle. She gritted her teeth, fending off the horrible emotions that roiled deep within her belly.
“Major?”
He accepted the cup and gazed at her with a probing glance, leaving her with the uncanny feeling that he could read her emotions.
Isabelle took hers and sipped cautiously, the room almost silent except for the clatter of spoons and the sipping of tea.
Now the silence stretched out. Elspeth had no wish for making small talk, Isabelle had obviously worked out there was some kind of...air between them, and the major kept shooting her looks of amusement. It really is quite vexing!
Once the teas were drunk, he rose. “If you would excuse me, Miss Isabelle, I’d like to talk to your sister for a moment.”
Isabelle’s face blanked carefully, but Elspeth could read the surprise in her eyes. “Of course, Major. If you’ll excuse me?”
She rose then left the room, leaving Elspeth quite uncomfortably aware of the impropriety of their actions.
“Major? What could you wish to raise with me?”
He settled back into the seat he’d vacated. “I’m very concerned that you plan to visit your suppliers without adequate protection. I have spoken with Lord Lytton, and he has kindly arranged for an escort, including myself and Grundy, to travel with you. He feels it is better that a lady such as yourself have suitable protection.”
Elspeth was unsure what to say to his kind words. “I’m overwhelmed, Major. Though thankful for his lordship’s concessions, might I think on it? I have specific locales I wish to see.”
“Of course.”
This time when he rose she moved toward him, stretching out her hand. He took it, and the sensation of heat she now associated with him filled her. “I appreciate everything you have done for us.”
His smile died away, replaced with what she could only call hunger. “Not for everyone... For you...Elspeth.”
Without another word he bowed and turned, leaving her to watch the door shut behind him.
* * * *
Elspeth trembled like a leaf in the wind, even though she fought to control her body’s reaction. Major Fitzsimmons was due any moment. Isabelle waited with her in the parlor; her gown of peacock blue emphasized her pale beauty, her sparkling eyes, and silvery blonde hair. Beside her, Elspeth felt like a sparrow—dark and drab.
Her gown of burnished copper fit like a glove, although maybe a little too snugly around her bosom, and with her hair caught up high, it emphasized her height. She was taller than most of her counterparts, which meant she was forever towering over them. Not a positive first sign with prospective suitors, she thought sourly.
Elspeth raised her arm, patting her hair again with her hand. “Are you sure this looks...appropriate?”
Isabelle smiled. “Of course. Now do sit down! It is making me dizzy watching you pat and preen.”
Those words stopped her in her tracks. Am I? Did she really care what Major Fitzsimmons thought of her? Then she laughed silently. Of course she did. She had been like that since she’d met him aboard the Zephyr.
The door opened behind her. “Major Fitzsimmons.” Jacinthe’s voice echoed in the now quiet room.
Elspeth sucked in a deep breath and pasted on a smile, fighting the butterflies that took wing inside her stomach.
He entered the room, looking dashing in his formal uniform of a dark blue single-breasted tunic featuring ten highly polished, brass buttons and decorated with red piping. His black boots shone in the light of the lamps, and for a moment her breath fled.
As she regained her composure his gaze roamed over her and she fancied that she saw approval in his eyes. “Miss Forster, you look quite lovely.”
The touch of his hand on hers warmed her. Then he turned toward her sister, and the warmth which had spread through her at his gaze dissipated.
“Miss Isabelle, what a delightful ensemble.” He bowed over Isabelle’s hand, but Elspeth fancied he didn’t hold it for quite as long as hers.
Elspeth, you’re being quite fanciful!
He proffered his arm to Elspeth as the older sister, and she took it, grateful for her long gloves, otherwise she was sure that the shock of connection would scorch her. They proceeded down the hall to the front door, which Jacinthe held open, and he handed them into the carriage.
Behind her, Isabelle chattered gaily.
The ride to the Vice Regal house was short. They swept through the gates and up a long and imposing drive, but waiting to alight their carriage took a considerable period of time. Elspeth remained in her seat, pretending to look out the window as the horses clattered on cobblestones. The streets had emptied, and the sun sat low on the horizon.
She listened idly as Isabelle and the major chattered. “Who will be there?” It was unlike Isabelle, but since her illness, she seemed to have discovered her social skills. Elspeth didn’t mind, however, as her sister was whole and well.
Elspeth used the wait to center herself. Such outings had been out of her realm of experience at home, with the clearly defined social status being rigidly observed. She fiddled with her gown, straightened her skirt, toyed with the light wrap she’d slipped around her shoulders, and wondered what the ladies here would make of her.
Major Fitzsimmons leaned slightly in her direction, and his voice cut through the silence. “You look breathtaking.”
“I... Uh...” Elspeth drew in an unsteady breath. “Thank you, Major.”
“Aeddan.”
“Pardon?” She gave him what she supposed was a startled look.
He smiled, white teeth flashing in the gloom. “My name is Aeddan.”
Aeddan. The name suited him. It was strong. Assured.
They drove up to the door, then the major stepped down, and Isabelle alighted. As Elspeth made to exit the carriage, Aeddan held her hand for just a moment longer than usual before letting it go with a searching look. In that short time, her breath caught in her throat.
She glanced away, unable to find her equilibrium, and bit her lip, before pinching her cheeks to brighten them slightly.
Aeddan propelled her forward, and she stumbled a little, but he was there, lending her support. Up the white stairs they moved. Then Isabelle and Elspeth’s wraps were whisked away, before they moved into the room where everyone gathered.
The room was full, with glittering lights and music, chatter and satins and silks. Once again Elspeth felt gauche and uneducated as she stared at the throngs before her. The fans moved lazily overhead. The major surged forward, comfortable in the environment, and not for the first time, Elspeth wondered about this man. He was an enigma, clearly as at home here in the gay and moneyed atmosphere as he was striding through the dusty streets or aboard a ship.
“Let me introduce you.”
He stopped before one unmistakably beautiful woman with a fine gown. Her hair was piled in an elegant knot atop her head, although, quite scandalously, there was a detectable thickness at the waist of her gown. Elspeth knew that meant she was enceinte.
“Ma’am, allow me to introduce Miss Forster and her sister, Miss Isabelle Forster.”
Both Isabelle and Elspeth dropped a curtsey to the woman, and she inclined her head. There was something regal about her that prompted their actions.
“So this is Miss Forster? Come walk with me a wh
ile, dear.”
Aeddan bowed low, but there was a frown on his face as he backed away.
Who is this woman, and what does she want with me? Elspeth decided the best course of action was to wait.
“La! I suppose I didn’t even give Aeddan time to introduce me. I am Lady Lytton. Now, I understand you and your sister run your family shipping business. I find that utterly fascinating. I myself am in favor of women being educated and holding useful positions in society, but opportunities are rare.”
“Indeed, ma’am? I’m greatly encouraged to hear that at least some women see the value in education and vocation.”
“Yes, Miss Forster. I rather think you would enjoy that given your own position with Forster Shipping.” When Elspeth craned her neck in the woman’s direction, Lady Lytton laughed and tapped her on the arm with her fan. “I’ve asked around about you. I appreciate a woman who knows her mind. Come and visit me one day for afternoon tea. I would be greatly interested in your thoughts.” Thus dismissed, Lady Lytton wandered off, to be caught up in groups of gaiety.
“Well, it seems you made your mark.”
Elspeth jumped, hearing Aeddan’s voice behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach.
“Major Fitzsimmons! You startled me.” She raised a hand to her chest, covering her now rapidly beating chest.
His eyes turned grave. “Then I do beg your pardon, Miss Forster. Allow me to introduce you around?”
She nodded before turning to look for her sister. “Isabelle?”
“Is already ensconced among a group of ladies. I believe they wish to know more about her gown.” His voice was determinedly bland.
“Then by all means, lead on, kind sir.”
The evening passed in a whirl of social niceties, though Elspeth had the distinct impression she was being sized up by many of the ladies attending, particularly those of the unmarried variety. Aeddan remained attentive throughout the soirée, rarely leaving her side. She was aware of him, the heat that radiated from him, and the zing she experienced in his company.
