by Susanne Lord
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.”
“You have land in Derbyshire?”
Her eyes grew huge and he felt damn near ten feet tall. So he wouldn’t tell her the bit about how Old Man Hartwig had said the hedgerows were dead and the cottage roof would fall in so it was good Seth had a head like a rock. But Hartwig was just a cranky, old pinch-fart.
And he wouldn’t tell her the rest of it. How even though he’d sold the prize orchid for all that acreage, he couldn’t afford to make the repairs to all the buildings that stood on that land.
But Seth wouldn’t call that a curse. Because if he did, that meant he was doomed to fail in this expedition, too.
And that meant he wouldn’t find Georgie alive.
He shook his mind free of that hellish thought. “And it’s, uh…it’s got a handsome stone cottage, too. It needs mending, though, and a hedgerow that’s not been trimmed since the Romans, but I’ll be fixing it up. Eventually—soon. Real soon.”
She nodded quickly. “A home needs all sorts of maintenance. I tended my family’s garden. I would so enjoy that employment again.”
He grinned and waited for her to continue. But she wasn’t saying anything. He shifted his weight. And shifted back. And her smile was…encouraging?
Did she want him to talk more?
Well.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve a plan on that cottage, of course. My Wilhelmina orchid was described and sold, straightaway, but I found lots more prizes than that. Had them in seed, though. Some of the prettiest flowers you’ll ever see, and lots of practical plants, too. My best mates have those in England; they’re looking after them for me. They’re plantsmen, cultivators.
“I had over a dozen orchids that I shipped, too, but I’m not sure if they’re new discoveries. But if they are, and they sell for a good amount, I’ll have the money to fix up all my outbuildings, the stable and washhouse and granary.”
He paused, checking her eyes for glazing or puzzlement. He grinned when he saw neither. “And if those seeds are viable, I’ll be able to marry, too. And keep a family.”
“That sounds really perfect, Mr. Mayhew.”
And the way she said it, he believed she meant it. Would Mina have herself a little garden here? “It does, doesn’t it?” he murmured.
“And your land? What is it like?”
He smiled, seeing that landscape in his head. “There’s a stream that flows right through this flat valley and into a grove of birch that might be out of a painting. And the grass all around it—green and soft and cool, like it was begging you to take off your boots and sit down for a picnic.”
“Is there a footbridge? My favorite walk was across the Hipper River and there was a bridge of stepping stones across the water.”
“Stepping stones, eh?” For the first time in his knowing her, Mina’s face went all soft and wistful and he wasn’t about to disappoint her. “I’ll build one just because you said it.”
She blushed deep. Maybe Miss Mina liked his compliments, after all.
And didn’t he like looking at that face? Maybe because she seemed to like what she was seeing, too. Even if he wasn’t a gentleman. He could almost pretend there was something there that wouldn’t mind kissing him.
Damn…
“Why is it we never rubbed shoulders till we found ourselves here?” he said.
“Fate, I suppose,” she said softly.
Fate. He never had any use for it.
Georgie’s face looked at him from her missing poster. “I had a thought to go over and introduce myself to your friends.”
That worried look sprang to Mina’s face again.
“But Tom tells me it’s not done,” he said.
“You mustn’t think they don’t want to help. It is just that they’re aware a man like you will distract them.”
“I didn’t plan on any distracting.” Mina’s face was getting that peach blush again, which was distracting enough.
“No, of course you don’t. But they are here to meet potential husbands.”
“I know it.” A bit of lace peeked from her sleeve and he tapped it. “What’s this, Miss Mina?”
She pulled it out and gave it to him. “A handkerchief. It is only that—”
“Did you stitch these little flowers?”
“I did, yes. But the women—”
“Bluebells, right?”
“Yes. Only that you could sway the ladies from their purpose if—oh, thank you”—she took back her handkerchief—“well, I think you understand what I’m trying to say.”
She’d stopped talking, and when he looked up, her brown eyes were scanning his.
“Mr. Mayhew?”
So damn pretty. He grinned. “I’m listening, Miss Mina.”
She squared herself in front of him as if she wanted to wrangle his full attention. She had it, but he didn’t mind her placing herself just so.
“It is just that you mustn’t distract them with your masculine wiles.”
The hell? He roared with laughter—something he’d not done in longer than he could remember. “My wiles, is it? No one’s accused me of such before. I thank you. What wiles might those be? My frog brain?”
“Your brain is fine.”
She sounded almost angry, and it made him like her all the more.
“You possess many attractions,” she said.
“Attractions?” He rubbed his jaw, damn curious what Mina would say. “What might those be?”
“Well…”
Her gaze drifted to his…chest? Belt? Shoes?
“You possess a very handsome form,” she said so low he had to bend his head to hear.
Handsome? He looked down at himself. And it was a long way down. Hulking, maybe. “You don’t mean my constitution? Or something in the way of stamina?”
A question flickered in her eyes before she blinked it away. “I…I don’t wish to speak of stamina, Mr. Mayhew.”
Now she wasn’t looking at him at all. “Why don’t you call me Seth?”
That worked. She looked at him over her burning cheeks. “I don’t think—”
“And I’ll call you Minnie.”
She blinked. “My friends call me Mina.”
“Am I your friend?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t you?”
“Not sure,” he said. “Who calls you Minnie, then?”
“No one.”
He grinned. “Good.”
She started to speak, then looked to be weighing his request—just like a lady would, just to be nice and polite.
“Minnie makes me sound small,” she said.
“I know it. But I could carry you around in my pocket, couldn’t I?” He crossed his arms and winked.
“Stop that, Mr. Mayhew. That is seven times now.”
He didn’t know what she was saying there. He shook his head, chuckling. “I don’t know about wiles, Minnie—”
“Mina. Or Wilhelmina, or—”
“I don’t know any other way to talk to women except with a little teasing. It might do me a harm to try. Georgie always said I was the Worst Flirt in the Midlands.”
Whatever he said seemed to sober her, and she dropped her gaze. “Yes.” She threaded her hand around his arm. “Shall we return to Thomas?”
Disappointment swept over him, but he stood straighter anyway. It was a rare thing to escort a lady anyplace. Even if it was only across a room. “So, Miss Mina, as I’m not proper, will you speak for me?”
“You’re not improper, just distracting.” She shook her head a little. “I’ve offended your feelings—I’m sorry. You and your wiles are blameless, so you mustn’t be uncomfortable if the ladies imagine you an object of attraction.”
An object of attraction…? He considered that. “No. I’ve no objection to that.”
She shot him a confused look, and his heart softened seeing the peach tips of her ears. The woman could blush there, too. But she’d not answered his question. “So would you? Speak for me?”
She raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye. His little officer again. “I will do everything I can to help you.”
Ah…damn. He was a little in love with her.
Someday, he might meet another lady as fine as her who wouldn’t mind marrying him. A lady who’d be such a credit to him that people would think twice about seeing him as just a laboring man. And they’d live in a house with a library full of books she’d probably already read, and a pianoforte their children knew how to play. Someday. If he wasn’t cursed.
She shied from his gaze and looked into the conservatory. At Tom.
She pulled her hand from his arm. “I understand you and Thomas were invited to the picnic and snipe hunt tomorrow at Vehar Lake.”
“I heard that, but it’s not likely we’ll attend with all there is to do.”
“Could you both come along after your work is done? I had hoped to see Thomas.”
He huffed a surprised laugh. “You do speak plain, Minnie.” And damn if it didn’t hurt his feelings. “Tom and me, we have telegrams to send, and plans to make, and that Mr. Fallon to meet.”
“The carriages do not leave until eleven.” She planted herself square in front of him again, her head tilted back to look straight at him, and he was caught by those big, brown eyes. “Please, Mr. Mayhew?”
Well…hell.
“The hunt would not be a bad use of your time,” she said. “If you spend the forenoon on your planning and letters, the rest of the day could be employed reminding others of your search.”
Seth bit back a sigh. Mina was making sense. It wasn’t as if he could go haring off to all the corners of Asia without information. Patient, polite, proper channels, and all that.
“That sounds real fine, Minnie.” And it would be fine. It was going to have to be.
“And you’ll bring Thomas?” she asked.
“I’m thinking Tom will want to be anywhere you’re at.”
“Do you think so?”
Her eyes were shiny with hope and he raked a hand through his hair. Damn awkward. She needed Tom for marrying and Seth needed him to find Georgie—anywhere that might be. Once time came to travel, nothing would stop him from taking Tom with him. Away from Mina.
There wasn’t but one solution he could think of: Tom had to wed her.
So he’d better do it damn soon.
Six
“Do I persuade you I am a great hunter?” Thomas said by way of greeting, posing beside the carriage that would take them to Lake Vehar. “On yet another shikar for rampaging beasts? Which I find only mildly amusing, of course.”
Mina smiled, examining his sporting ensemble from his pith helmet to his boots to his holstered knife. “Good afternoon, Thomas. And yes, you do look the proficient.”
“Ah, good, as I’ve only ever hunted quail. And I’m a sorry marksman.”
Emma poked the handle of his blade with a frown. “Truly, I’m going on an Indian shikar. I suppose the drive will allow me to see something of the countryside so the day will not be a complete waste.”
“A waste?” Thomas asked.
“No one in the family shoots,” Mina explained. “Emma is particularly averse.”
“Ah.” Thomas handed his gear to his servant. “Killing God’s creatures is a favorite pastime among Company men. Unfortunately for them, snipe is on offer today. Frightfully hard to hit; they fly in a corkscrew pattern when flushed. There’ll be a great number of sullen men at the end of the day.”
“I hope you’re right,” Emma said.
Thomas chuckled. His mood seemed much improved from yesterday. Already the conversation was easier. Perhaps she had been anxious for no reason. Thomas had sent for a wife—she was assured he wanted one.
Whether he wanted her was yet to be determined.
At the least, this second day together provided a facade of familiarity. She had no talent for rapid rapport, a necessary skill in women exported for marriage. Four friends had accepted offers after their first interviews yesterday. And those from perfect strangers.
“Has Colin Rivers sent word?” Thomas asked.
Emma huffed a breath. “No. Not a word, note, or telegram.”
Thomas frowned in sympathy. “I’m sure he is desperate to get here. Shouldn’t be much longer. Laxman?” Thomas called to his bearer, who was climbing down from the carriage. “Where is Mr. Mayhew?”
“I believe he is en route, sahib,” Laxman said. “I certainly did see him buy food from the bazaar.”
“Are you sure that was him?” Thomas asked.
Laxman bowed his head. “Mr. Mayhew is not easy to mistake, sahib.”
“I’m so glad you and Mr. Mayhew were able to join us,” Mina said.
“He won’t be if he’s late.” Thomas scanned the street. “But I’m hopeful this may be a productive afternoon. The men may be more amenable to helping Mayhew if meeting him on the hunting field. But then”—he frowned at a thought—“they’ll all have their shotguns.”
“I think it wonderful that you are helping him,” Emma said. “Is there any news of his sister?”
“Not yet,” Thomas said.
“Mina is helping, too,” Emma said before Mina could warn her to silence. “Our friend Julia is engaged to a political agent in West Bengal and he is very keen to inquire. He promised he would. And Edith’s gentleman,
also. Mina has secured so many promises of help that we’re sure to—”
“We mustn’t raise hopes, Emma,” she said.
Thomas met her eye for an instant but his look was unreadable. “I’m sure we are grateful for the aid.”
With those cool words, Mina’s doubts returned. Should she not have extended herself on Mr. Mayhew’s behalf? Any woman, any person, would be sympathetic, wouldn’t they? “It was the work of a moment, really.”
“Yes, well,” Thomas murmured. “Your friends may do far better than us.” He opened the door of the carriage, one of a dozen waiting outside Benson’s Hotel to carry the venture girls the short distance to the lake. “Ladies?”
Mina could think of nothing to say, so she took his hand silently as he handed her into the carriage. But he didn’t join her, continuing to wait on the pavement for Mr. Mayhew.
In the dim carriage, she took a steadying breath. Helping Mr. Mayhew might have been a mistake. Did Thomas think her distracted by the explorer? Did he doubt her regard? Was Thomas waiting for her to somehow encourage his offer, or was she free to just…accept an unspoken one? And with Colin Rivers delayed, should she commit to him at all?
Or was she driving herself mad for no reason?
“That’s quite a blade, Tom.” Mr. Mayhew’s deep, laughing voice sounded from outside the carriage. “I thought this was a snipe hunt. You expecting to wrestle a panther?”
“All right, all right,” Thomas said. “I have no need of the knife. But it rather completes the outfit.”
“Should I grab my poleax in case we encounter a flock of pigeon?”
“You’re late,” Thomas said, climbing into the carriage.
“I know it.” Mr. Mayhew appeared framed in the door of the carriage wearing a safari hat. “But only by a minute. I couldn’t inconvenience these pretty women. Good afternoon, ladies.”
The brim shaded his eyes so all Mina could see was his hard jaw and the tilted smile of his lips… She had not really noticed the shape of his lips before. They were fuller than she realized. A mouth built to smile and taste. And talk, too, she supposed. He stretched his thick arms overhead to lean against the carriage door’s lintel, and his powerful chest tapered dramatically to lean hips and a trim, flat stomach.
