Discovery of Desire

by Susanne Lord

  He checked his timepiece. “I did. Though he’ll likely be late.”

  “Yes, Emma and I are often lost in Bombay.”

  “Mayhew doesn’t get lost. He gets friends. His sense of direction is excellent from his years of surveying unmapped terrains. He just can’t seem to walk a city block without getting drawn into conversation. I don’t know why—the man’s Hindustani is appalling. But the man has a passion for conversation. He could talk the hind legs off a donkey.”

  She smiled through her strained nerves and straightened the letters she had collected from her friends and their gentlemen, all promising information on Georgiana. The number of letters had surprised Thomas, but she and Emma had worked hard to enlist the venture girls to press their suitors. “I’m so eager to know if there is something useful here. I hope he hurries.”

  And she had missed him so much more than she’d expected. And wanted.

  A memory of his kiss flashed to mind and sparked a blaze beneath her skin before she could banish it. Did he regret kissing her, seeing how affected she had been? Would a flirt give kisses freely and expect them to be received in kind? Her red face would not do, in any case.

  “We have not seen Mr. Mayhew since our visit to the zoo last week,” Emma said. “Is he well?”

  “Tolerably, I think,” Thomas said.

  And that was all he offered. Mina swallowed a gasp of frustration. “And there has been no information at all from the Company?” she prompted.

  “Very little from the Company.” Thomas frowned. “Unfortunately, we posted signs in the marketplace with a reward for information. More money than most of the local people see in a half-year’s work. Seth paid a great deal of money for information, much of it false. It was not the best thinking.”

  She stiffened in her seat. “It is not Mr. Mayhew’s fault that there are unscrupulous people in the world.”

  “No, Mina, I blame myself as well for that decision. But Mayhew is increasingly desperate. I’m afraid he may start acting more rashly, and his funds are dwindling.”

  Mina fidgeted with her chapati. She really had no appetite.

  A tall shadow darkened the door, and her heart jolted in her breast. Mr. Mayhew swept off his hat and ducked inside. It seemed he never allowed her time to brace for his presence. Standing beside the table, his hips were level with her eyes, so she had to look a long way up to see his face. And those sea-green eyes.

  “Hello, Miss Mina.” He nodded to her but his eyes darted away. “Miss Emma, Tom.” He didn’t sit, his hands worrying the brim of his hat.

  “Sit down, Mayhew,” Thomas said. “I can’t imagine you’re not hungry. They have a pav bhaji here you’ll like. You can eat it like a sandwich.”

  “We have that appointment at the registry office.”

  “They’re not open for an hour. Sit down.”

  He hesitated a moment before he sat. His fingers drummed the table. The skin across his cheekbones was taut, reddened by the sun. And there were new lines at the corners of his eyes.

  “I am so glad to see you, Mr. Mayhew,” she said. “You are often in our thoughts.”

  His fingers drummed faster and he faced her with a half smile that didn’t touch his eyes. His gaze was too restless to meet hers. “Thank you, Miss Mina. You’re in mine as well.”

  Look at me. Or…flirt with me—anything.

  But he didn’t flirt. He didn’t say a word. The search must not be going well at all.

  Mayhew is increasingly desperate—

  She pushed the letters on the table toward him. After all that Thomas and Mr. Mayhew had done, what help could come from any of the venture girls? “Some of the ladies have collected letters for you, Mr. Mayhew.”

  Their eyes latched again for an instant before he reached for the letters. “Would you mind if I…?”

  “Of course not.”

  He cracked open the first letter and began to read. A weighty silence descended on the table.

  “I’ll order you pav bhaji, shall I?” Thomas said.

  Mr. Mayhew frowned, his eyes on his letter. “Ay? No, Tom. No thank you.”

  “You’ve never refused a meal with me.” Thomas sighed. “No one is fooled into thinking you know how to eat here. Your system of pointing at any odd food from the street vendors will get you in trouble one day.”

  Frustration and fear filled Mina at the thought. He’d lost weight; his cheeks were hollow.

  “Shall we order him something?” Mina whispered in Thomas’s ear, so as not to interfere with Mr. Mayhew’s reading. “He looks thin.”

  Thomas studied him with a frown. “I suppose I hadn’t noticed—”

  Seth lowered one of the letters he’d been reading. “This one says the Milford crew is headed to Calcutta. They’re expected there by the sixth of January.” His eyes met hers and, at last, a real smile stretched across his lips. “The last we heard they were still in interior China and they hadn’t surfaced for months.”

  The clamp on her heart eased. “It’s helpful information, then?”

  His eyes were bright. “If Georgiana’s with them, that’s where she’ll be.” He combed a large hand through his hair. “It’s the best tip we’ve received.” He looked at Tom. “The sixth—that’s just under three weeks. How do we get to Calcutta?”

  Mina’s smile faded. He was leaving.

  And Thomas would leave with him.

  “Well…” Thomas fidgeted with a letter. “We might take a bullock train as far as Aurangabad. From there, a carriage has to be hired to Sambalpur. There used to be a coach to Kharagphur and we could likely hire a seat.”

  Thomas wasn’t looking at her—no, he wouldn’t look at her.

  “And from Kharagphur?” Mr. Mayhew prodded. Thomas and Mr. Mayhew passed some sort of silent communication.

  Mr. Mayhew looked out the window to the street, then pushed to his feet abruptly. “Excuse us, ladies. I’m needing to speak to Tom outside a moment.”

  Mina didn’t even nod. Her eyes followed the men as they walked out the door but, in truth, she saw nothing.

  She was making a new plan.

  * * *

  “Marry the woman, settle her with her sister, and let’s go.” A fiery blade twisted in Seth’s gut. “What’s taking you so damn long anyway?”

  “We’ve not left yet. I told you I wouldn’t leave Bombay until—”

  “I know what you told me. But I need your help to get to Calcutta, and I sure as hell won’t risk missing the crew on account of your not settling matters with Minnie.”

  “That’s none of your—”

  “It is my business. I”—I had the sign—“I’ve been patient, Tom, and reasonable, when I don’t need to be.”

  Tom took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “It’s only been two weeks. It’s not fair to her. Rivers hasn’t shown for Emma. I promised her a choice.”

  “She’s chosen you!” The force of his voice propelled Tom a step back. “Damn it, Tom. Do you see her seeking out other men? She’s been loyal to you, even when she’s helping me. You’ll not find another better than her. Christ, if it were me, I’d have married her the second I saw her.”

  Tom let out a breath that seemed to shrink an inch off him. “She’s not—”

  “Not what?” he growled.

  Tom put on his spectacles and stared grimly at the ocean.

  The hell? What man wouldn’t want her unless… “Are you not inclined to women?”

  Tom’s head snapped around. “What?”

  “Women? Do you not like women?”

  Tom blinked. “No. Christ, Mayhew. I like women. Marriage is complex—”

  “I know it.”

  “—and I would never want to hurt Mina.”

  “Then what—?” A new anger rose. “Do you have yourself another woman?”

  �
��No.”

  “You heartsick for another?”

  Tom hesitated a second too long, and Seth tightened all over. “Christ, you are,” Seth growled. “Why the hell would you send for Minnie? If you weren’t willing to marry?”

  “I was. I was willing.” Tom didn’t speak for a time, and then took a long breath. “There was a woman. Constance.”

  The fury ignited in Seth and he spun away before he put a fist in Tom’s face.

  “She’s in England,” Tom called after him. “Hell, she’s married. There’s no reason I shouldn’t wed Mina—”

  “No,” Seth roared, surprising himself with the certainty of his objection. “No.” He stalked back to Tom. “Minnie deserves better.”

  Tom’s jaw tightened. “I know she does.”

  Tom looked so damned pathetic, Seth forced himself to breathe. “You’re saying you can’t wed her?”

  “Christ.” Tom wiped a hand down his face. “I think that is what I’m saying.”

  Something cold was spreading through him. “What do we do?”

  Tom faced him. “She needs a protector. You agree with me on that. We have to find her another husband.”

  The fury flooded him again. After she’d come all this way and how scared she’d been. Was there even a man in India who deserved her? “You got someone in mind?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “Not yet. I’ll need time.”

  “Time? Hell, Tom. We don’t have time.”

  “A couple weeks.”

  “Weeks?” His rage was turning to panic. Tom held up his hand for calm and Seth swatted it down. “We got a couple days, maybe.”

  “All right,” Tom said. He narrowed his eyes, appearing to be calculating. “Give me…ten days.”

  Seth stared, shaking his head. “Six.”

  “Seven.”

  “Four.”

  “You’re supposed to go up! Dammit, Mayhew.” Tom rubbed his temples. “To get to Calcutta by the sixth…we’d need a fortnight to get there. We could spend five days here in Bombay. And there’ll still be time to get there by the sixth. Come on, man. This is her future—”

  “I know it!”

  “You like her, too, I know it—hell, she knows it. Let’s do all we can to find Mina a good man.”

  A good man. How the hell was he going to do that when he wanted her himself? When he wanted to take her home—

  Home.

  He looked at Tom. “We could find her a man headed for England.”

  “She won’t leave her sister.”

  Right. Damn! “Then we’ll find two.”

  Tom scoffed. “Two men bound for England? In five days?”

  He couldn’t think on the odds of that. Not just now. “Minnie deserves the best bachelor in India.”

  “I’m not sure the likes of us can find him.”

  “I can.” He leveled his chin. “I can find anything. We’ll find a man who’ll never give Minnie a day’s trouble. One who won’t be chasing other women and hurting her feelings. Stable and secure and dull as a dead horse—you would’ve been perfect, except for that business of pining over a married woman.”

  Tom frowned, but said nothing to oppose the idea. Wasn’t a thing he could say—especially if he wanted to keep his teeth—because Seth damn well knew the best man for Mina. A man the least like himself as possible.

  And they only had five days to do it.

  * * *

  “Thomas is not going to marry me,” Mina said.

  Emma dragged her gaze from the sight of the men outside the restaurant window. “What?”

  She folded her napkin beside her plate and closed her reticule. “Could we leave, Emma?”

  Emma’s eyes went wide. “No. Why?”

  “Thomas doesn’t wish to marry me. We aren’t suited.”

  “But…but you are.”

  She stood and picked up her hat. “He would have offered by now, Emma. Would have assured me somehow that we would be safe. Please, let’s just get our things.” Outside, Mr. Mayhew’s jaw was clenched, his eyes boring into Thomas. “Please, Emma.”

  Emma hurried to pick up her things. “But shouldn’t we stay and—”

  “Thomas will return with the same, thin smile he always smiles and ask to speak with me in private—perhaps ask to walk with me—and he’ll apologize and beg my forgiveness and it will be dreadful and demeaning.”

  Emma stood, her parasol and hat clutched to her stomach. “What if Colin returns? What if you’re wrong?”

  She wanted to be wrong, wanted to do anything to protect Emma, but she wasn’t wrong. She held Emma’s eye until her little sister saw the conviction there.

  And like two twin blue flames, the temper flared in Emma’s eyes. “It’s not fair,” Emma spat, shoving her gloves into her reticule. “First, Colin Rivers and now this. Do men have no honor?”

  Thomas and Mr. Mayhew walked back into the Apogee restaurant, their faces wary, and the slow, sick roll of her stomach nearly drove her back to her chair.

  Thomas surveyed the scene, his face guarded. “Mina? I wonder if we might speak in private? Perhaps go for a walk?”

  A walk. Oh God—

  “No!” Emma threw down her napkin. “No! She will not go for a walk!”

  Oh dear.

  Emma swept her skirt clear of the table and stomped to the door. There was nothing for Mina to do but follow. She hurried to collect her reticule and fold her napkin—

  “Mina.” Emma called from the door, sounding weepy and exasperated now.

  I’m coming, she mouthed, smiling apologetically at the other diners. The restaurant was rather more full than she’d noticed. Not at all skilled in dramatic exits, she shuffled past the chairs and tables more carefully.

  “Mina, wait.” Thomas looked at her blankly. “Where are you going?”

  Her legs threatened to collapse beneath her but she faced him. “You’re leaving Bombay.”

  Thomas swallowed, and that was confirmation enough. His hands hung at his side. “Mina—”

  “When?” she asked.

  “Mina!” Emma hissed from the door, which she held pointedly open.

  “Five days,” Mr. Mayhew answered for Thomas, his gaze steady on her. “I need him with me in Calcutta, Minnie. If I’m late, if I miss the crew by a day, an hour, I’d have to follow and I don’t know how far I’d get without Tom.”

  Her heart ached—for him, for her. How had it come to this? And she searched Thomas’s eyes one last time. Say I should wait. Say we’ll marry and we’ll take care of Emma. Say you’ll be gone a week or two and you’ll be back.

  But Thomas wasn’t saying anything.

  She turned for Emma. Her sister would cry in a moment, so she hurried. And when she reached her, her sister’s grip was so tight…

  Oh God…both of them jilted. No—unclaimed. Jetsam.

  The thought was mad. Perhaps this whole scheme was mad.

  She escaped the restaurant, dragging the salt-soaked air into her lungs. Row upon row of carriages blocked her way across the street to the pier. Clutching Emma’s hand, she walked unseeing down the pavement.

  “What will we do, Mina?”

  Emma’s voice quavered with worry, her temper apparently extinguished by fear. Mina ground to a stop and smoothed her countenance, but the most horrible hopelessness dulled her sister’s blue eyes. Mina had seen that look in another sister’s eyes.

  It was the same look in Mary’s when her sister had confessed she’d sold her body to feed her son.

  “We’ll be fine,” she said, her voice blessedly steady despite her heart banging against her ribs. “Everything is fine.”

  “Miss Mina?”

  She and Emma turned their heads at Seth’s loud voice. “Bother it,” she breathed.

  Mr. Mayhew was gaining upon th
em quickly with his ground-eating stride. “Minnie, I’m needing to talk to you.”

  And Thomas hurried right behind him. “Mina, please, I have to—”

  She flung up her hands to silence them. “Hush.” Like children, they stopped and gaped. But at least they were rendered speechless. She checked the faces of curious passersby as they watched. Some shred of reason telling her she couldn’t put a step wrong now. Not if she was to find a new husband. Not if they were going to survive.

  Hiking her reticule up her wrist and with a straightening tug to her blouse, she walked to the men. “There is no need for this display.”

  “Won’t you let me explain?” Thomas asked.

  “We did not suit. That is explanation enough,” she said. “I’ll write so we may settle the matter of your bond.”

  “I don’t care about—”

  “I care.” She closed her eyes and composed herself. “I care, Thomas.” A fifty-pound bond was no pittance. The hotel was paid through the month. Once they paid Thomas back, what would they have left?

  Thomas paled under the white glare of his spectacles, but Mr. Mayhew’s focus was unwavering. “I need a minute with you, Minnie,” he said. “Tom can take Miss Emma back to the hotel.”

  Confused, she looked at Mr. Mayhew. “I don’t see what there is—”

  He ducked his head near hers and now she was the one startled to silence. “Just a minute, Minnie,” he whispered. “Please?”

  Mr. Mayhew was as grim as she’d ever seen him. And he was too thin. And he’d not eaten the pav bhaji she’d ordered for him.

  “Fine,” she said. “One minute, and you will see there is no cause for your concern. Will that do?”

  She expected a simple yes, but his eyes narrowed in consideration.

  “I probably shouldn’t have said a minute.” He crossed his arms and pursed his lips in thought. “I’m thinking I’d like your attention for fifteen—no, twenty-five minutes.” His eyes narrowed even more. “That’s if you aren’t saying much back, which you aren’t likely to do—twenty minutes should do.”

  She bit back a frustrated sigh. “That’s—” But it wasn’t ridiculous. It was nice. And courteous. And she’d had more than enough of dithering and indecision.

  And she appreciated Mr. Mayhew for that small comfort. As looping as his thoughts were, he was not bent to vagueness. She rather detested vagueness. “Yes, twenty minutes is fine.”