by Susanne Lord
“You’re right of course, miss,” a man said from behind them.
Seth turned to face him but the man’s smile was aimed wholly at Mina. Wait—green waistcoat. Walpole.
“There’s no sense in having a big, noisy party scare up those snipe,” Walpole said.
“Thank you, sir. I have no experience with hunts.” Mina lowered her lids and smiled shyly.
Seth had never seen her do that.
The man bowed to her. “My apologies. I am Earnest Walpole, miss. Please excuse my boldness. I fear I offend you.”
“Not at all,” Mina said. “I believe we may have a shared acquaintance in Thomas Grant?”
Walpole turned a questioning eye on him and Seth shook his head. “Not me.” He pointed to Tom at the carriage. “There’s your man.”
“Ah, yes.” Walpole promptly redirected his attentions to Mina and Emma in his pursuit of a comely wife. “It really is only sensible to separate the men and ladies.” He leaned close to Emma as if sharing some great pearl of wisdom. “I’ve learned to take only one silent servant and my cleverest bitch when shooting snipe.”
His smile showed all his teeth. How the hell was this Walpole going to help him again? “You must be quite a gunner,” Seth said dryly.
Walpole shrugged, looking pleased. “The snipe are smaller and swifter here than back home, but in truth, I never enjoyed the hunt better than in Ireland.”
“I’ve often heard the Irish countryside is very beautiful,” Mina said.
Walpole’s leer slid over to her. “Indeed. So you would be quite at home there, Miss Adams.”
Seth’s eyes narrowed, but that was a good compliment. A little fast, maybe. He cleared his throat a bit too loud—a bit too stern maybe, because Emma arched a warning brow at him.
Right. He may need this Romeo.
“You flatter me, sir.” Mina slipped her hand around Walpole’s elbow. “I have never been to Ireland.” She aimed her perfect lips at Walpole’s ear. “I wonder if Mr. Mayhew has?”
Maybe she knew a little about flirting. She was standing too damn cozy with the gent, in any case.
And where the hell was Walpole looking?
“Mr. Mayhew is an explorer and has traveled extensively,” Mina said. “Though I daresay his mission here is the most vital journey of them all.”
Seth cleared his throat again—it sounded more like a growl—but Mina didn’t even spare him a glance. Hell. She’d vowed to do everything she could to help, hadn’t she? But he sure didn’t want this kind of help.
Walpole held Mina’s gaze, evidently not caring where Seth had traveled or why. “Yes…well. A man might do well to explore closer to home.”
Mina shook her head. “Yes, but Mr. Mayhew—”
“Every young man of spirit should see Ireland,” Walpole said. “But the bogs make some snipe hunts frightfully treacherous.”
“That so?” Seth said. “Why’s that?”
Walpole spoke over his shoulder at him. “The bogs, man. Put a step wrong and you’ll be good and gone.” He chuckled smugly. “Unless you learn to throw yourself, er, sideways, of course.”
Walpole’s voice had lowered as he leaned toward Mina, like he was suggesting something sideways with her.
“And why’s that?” Seth demanded.
Walpole’s chuckles faded, and he turned to face him. “Because, Mister…Mayhew, is it? The bog can support the weight of a man if he’s horizontal.”
“Why’s that?”
Mina was giving him a pointed, panicked stare, but this time Seth ignored her.
“The peat, Mr. Mayhew.” Walpole smiled, but it looked strained. “And then, of course, you must learn the correct way to throw your gun off.” He turned back around and covered Mina’s hand with his own.
And Seth couldn’t stop himself. “And why’s that?”
Walpole’s back stiffened. “Because the gun might—Mr. Mayhew, for the sake of variety, could you pose a question that doesn’t begin with ‘why’?”
“I suppose I can,” Seth said.
“Excellent.”
“How come you have to learn to throw your gun off?”
Walpole faced him. Seth returned the challenge in the man’s eye. And doubled it. The gent blinked first and seemed to understand.
Because he took his hands off Mina.
Walpole turned his attention to Emma. “Miss Adams, I believe I see the refreshment table and feel a sudden need for a drink. Will you join me? If you are not”—he looked at Seth—“otherwise engaged?”
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.
&n
bsp; 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.
Seven
“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.”
