The footman closed the door and rapped on the side of the carriage.
The carriage lurched forward, and Sophia looked out the window at the darkness beyond. The trees and vegetation were thick and rather frightening at night. It was as though man had carved just enough space out of the jungle to nestle in his own habitat, yet the land constantly fought to regain control. The land between the Residency and the ruins, and the ruins and the palace, was thick and tangled. Wildly beautiful, but threatening.
An animal howled, and the sound carried on the wind as if to punctuate her mood. The tension in the carriage was suffocating. Anthony was clearly uncomfortable with the man, and even Major Stuart, who was affable to everyone, seemed unusually guarded. She wished someone—anyone—would speak.
Anthony broke the silence. “Major Stuart, would you please inform Lord Braxton of what you have learned regarding young master Charles’s kidnapping?”
“Now see here,” Lord Braxton said with a note of warning in his voice. “Shouldn’t we avoid such an unpleasant topic in the presence of fine ladies? I’m sure the discussion could wait.”
Anthony clenched his jaw. “Major?” he prompted.
Stuart hesitated, then nodded and cleared his throat. “I secured a translator and spent the bulk of the day questioning the young girl, Chakori. She was approached by an unfamiliar servant who paid her a healthy sum to lure Master Charles from his bed and lose him in the jungle no closer to the Residency than the ruins. The area from the ruins northward is expansive enough that a young child of his stature might have easily either fallen victim to an animal or lost his way in a swamp or river.”
Sophia shook her head. “It makes no sense to me, Major. Did she say how she was to accomplish this? Charlie doesn’t trust anyone other than Amala Ayah. I would have wagered my brother’s title that he would never have willingly gone somewhere with anybody else. I don’t know that he would come with me if I coaxed him, and I’ve spent considerable time with him in the nursery.”
“Fortunately for your brother’s title, you were nowhere near a bookmaker.” Braxton smiled at Sophia, and she made an effort to keep from narrowing her eyes.
“You do understand what I mean, my lord. These days, the child is terrified of his own shadow.”
Stuart nodded. “He is, and Chakori knew what to say. She told Charlie that Amala Ayah was outside and needed him right away and that she had sent Chakori to fetch him.” He frowned. “Chakori also had in her possession one of Amala Ayah’s bangles. When she showed it to the child as proof of her good intentions, he went with her.”
“Where was the ayah?” Braxton asked.
“In the servants’ sitting room.”
He frowned. “Might she have been complicit in the crime?”
Sophia shook her head. “Amala adores Charlie. As much as his mother does, I daresay.”
Stuart added, “Chakori did not implicate the ayah in any way. She maintained over the course of several hours that her only point of contact was with this stranger.”
Sophia took a deep breath and tried to make sense of the riddle. Why would someone pay to have Charlie go missing? Perhaps because it was cleaner and simpler than killing him outright in the house? Or perhaps the guilty party didn’t have the stomach for killing small children. She shuddered.
“And I am to understand that the boy’s nanny believes he was witness to Captain Miller’s murder?” Braxton asked.
“You know about that?” Sophia asked.
Braxton nodded. “Lady Pilkington mentioned it to me. And, if I may say, I am surprised that you know about it as well. I would have thought that Lord Wilshire would have spared you the details.” He gave Anthony a sharp look that seemed to carry more meaning than expected.
“You should know that there are no secrets here, Lord Braxton,” Anthony replied. “We are among friends.”
Sophia drew her brows together. She wondered again what the relationship was between Braxton and Anthony.
Lord Braxton frowned. “I see,” he said. After another moment of strained silence, he seemed to rouse himself and return to the conversation. He looked at Sophia with a smile. “So, the nanny believes the boy witnessed something, and you believe her. That is enough to convince me.”
Chapter 23
Anthony braced his arm against the coach window and rubbed his temple. Kill the man. He was going to kill Braxton. He had multitudinous questions for his superior, not the least of which was “Why in blazes are you here?” Braxton had upended Anthony’s life, had him following bread-crumb clues all over the globe, and now decided to swoop in like a hawk and muck around in the work Anthony had worked so hard to do? At his insistence!
It was bad enough that Anthony had begun sleeping with one eye open, fearful that whoever had the Janus Document had had time to start deciphering the code. Anthony’s information, his friends’ information—everything was listed, according to Braxton. Why the murderer hadn’t come forward with a blackmail threat made no sense, unless the code was still intact, of course. But why threaten Sophia with Charlie’s broken toy? Why lure Charlie away from home to his potential death? Why not deal directly with Anthony, or Pilkington, even, who both had money and influence? Why did the perpetrator’s actions seem to focus only on covering up Miller’s murder rather than on the larger issue of the document?
And by all that was holy, if Braxton did not stop leering at Sophia, Anthony was prepared to put his fist in the man’s throat. Sophia, bless her, had eyed Braxton with thinly veiled mistrust from the moment she had joined them in the foyer. Once again, her instincts were spot-on. As a woman who had been propositioned and harassed by Braxton’s type in the past, she likely recognized a Lothario when she saw one. Even now, Braxton had extended his leg in the cab of the spacious coach and inched it closer to Sophia’s skirts. She was looking at Dylan, but she subtly gathered the fabric of her dress and tucked it beneath her legs. He was torn between pride in her ability to keep herself free from men of Braxton’s ilk, and fury that a man of Braxton’s ilk would take liberties with a woman if left unchecked.
The coach came to a stop, and he stepped out, taking a deep breath. He told himself to pull it together, that none of them could afford mistakes. He would act as he had since his arrival in Bombay. He was on extended holiday, and he happened to meet up with his friends after a protracted separation, and as a group they were attempting to help Major Stuart with his investigation into the mysterious disappearance of a merchant seaman. Until someone came forward either publically or privately to expose his connection with the War Department, he would not acknowledge it, and Sophia, Rachael, and Dylan would remain the only people who knew.
Braxton stepped from the carriage and eyed Anthony warily. And well he should. They had not had a moment to chat alone since Braxton’s unannounced arrival at the mansion.
“What a surprise to see you here,” Anthony said quietly. “On orders to work with the Bombay Presidency. And now investigating the death of a sea captain.”
Braxton brushed a hand down his sleeve and straightened his suit coat. He looked at Anthony evenly. “You’ve been away for some time. I thought you might appreciate support.”
Anthony bit back a quick retort and turned instead to help Sophia down from the coach.
“How wonderful to reacquaint yourself with friends from home, Wilshire.” Braxton smiled at Sophia as she moved a few steps away. “You must have been delighted when Miss Elliot arrived.”
“Implying something, Braxton?” he murmured.
“Wondering if you’ve kept your focus.”
“Have not wavered.”
Braxton glanced at Sophia, his eyes flicking from her face to her bodice, and back to Anthony. “I wonder.”
Anthony narrowed his eyes, his temper close to boiling over at the man’s crude insolence. “We should speak. Later.”
Braxton tu
rned as the next carriage rolled to a stop and settled his smile back into place. “Well, bless me, if it isn’t Lady Seadon! And the young Lady Seadon, and Miss Vale!” He left Anthony and Sophia without word or gesture, which was the height of rudeness, especially to Sophia. He helped Lady Seadon, the mother, from the carriage and bestowed his blinding smile upon her as she stammered and fussed about what a pleasure it was to meet him.
“He is . . . oily.”
Anthony looked down at Sophia’s pronouncement. She had returned to his side and observed the show with an impassive expression, her shoulders straight, her gloved hands lightly clasped at her waist, her hair shining like silk in the bright moonlight, her jaw curving gracefully into the elegant line of her neck. Her bearing was impeccable, her sense of self firmly fixed. She was more of a lady, had always been, than most of the women he knew.
“I love you.” He whispered it, but she still turned to him abruptly with wide eyes. She flicked them wider in surprise, as if asking if he were sane.
He smiled. “I do. You are glorious, and I love you.”
“There you are.” Rachael marched over to them and grasped Sophia’s hand. “Sophia, you simply must look at the hors d’oeuvres spread. Were you aware that Lady Pilkington had everything set up beforehand? I vow, she is incredibly organized. We must ask her . . .”
Sophia glanced back at him, and as he stood in profile to Braxton and the Seadons on his right, he winked at her with his left eye. It was dark; he wasn’t certain she saw it. But she smiled.
He moved to join the others at the center of the ruins but was, regrettably, too slow. A hand threaded around his arm, and he looked down to see Lady Lissa Seadon attached to him like a barnacle. His smile was tight; she had to know he didn’t care for her, had been all but rude in the past, but she was tenacious. Desperate, perhaps, given her mother.
“Lady Seadon.”
“Lord Wilshire.” She smiled up at him, and he was again struck by the fact that, beautiful as she was, he hadn’t a spark of interest. “I have been waiting interminably for an opportunity to chat with you. Miss Elliot quite seems to occupy your time.”
“I enjoy Miss Elliot’s company.” He prayed Miss Elliot would not turn around and see them. He was only just beginning to earn her trust after she’d lived through two years of sordid rumors.
“But it is quite unfair of her to monopolize so much of you. She simply must share.” The perfect mouth curved in a perfect smile.
“Where have your travels led you these last many months, Lady Seadon?”
“Ah. Seeking to distract me, are you? Very well, I shall play along. We began on the Continent and traveled through Europe, the Mediterranean states, coastal China, now we find ourselves here.”
“And you plan to remain here indefinitely?”
“Do you return home soon? Do you hope to see me there?” She affected a very sympathetic face. “We are here, mostly, in hopes of finding my dear cousin Adeline a husband. She’s had no luck at home, and is unlikely to.” She glanced over her shoulder and pulled herself even closer to his arm. “Her face and form have little to recommend them, you see, and she has no fortune. Papa will settle a small dowry on her, but only out of the goodness of his heart.”
What a woman could do to another with a few carefully placed words. He shook his head. “I’ve always found Miss Vale quite pretty, and she is delightful company. We partnered once at whist.”
“Oh, Wilshire, you are such a gallant.” She looked over her shoulder again and sniffed. “The poor dear.”
They reached the courtyard, and Lady Seadon could not have timed their entry through the flowering arch more perfectly—or more likely she had intended a show for Sophia from the beginning.
Sophia was chatting with the Misses Denney, and she looked up at Lady Seadon and then at him.
Anthony wished for a way to detach his arm from his shoulder.
The length of Lady Seadon’s body pressed against his side. “I am certain a man with your bloodlines can appreciate a woman whose own are equally impeccable. We are well suited, you and I, Anthony. We are cut from the same cloth. No surprises, no unexpected complications. Marriages are much more efficient between parties who are well-versed in the realities of a ton union. Emotions are such an unnecessary entanglement.”
He smiled tightly and pried her hand from his arm. Very deliberately he separated himself from her and bowed lightly. “I leave you here, Lady Seadon. You’ll forgive me, but I must thank our hostess for this wonderful adventure.”
Her mouth curled. “Of course. I shall avail myself of Lord Braxton’s company.” She glanced again at Sophia. “Do remember, society is not tolerant of upstarts.”
He watched her turn and head back through the arch, angry and irritated and not trusting her for an instant. She approached Braxton, who had her mother and cousin on either arm, and she nudged her cousin ever so slightly. Adeline immediately released Braxton and Lissa replaced her. Braxton laughed at something she said, and Anthony’s gut clenched. Sophia’s description of Braxton also applied comfortably on the young Lady Seadon’s shoulders. Oily. It was appropriate.
Sophia watched Anthony watch Lissa Seadon. Surely, no. He could not possibly be interested in her. But he had turned to watch her walk away.
I cannot do this again.
The thought swam insidiously through her head, and a sense of panic started in her chest and threaded through her until her fingertips felt cool and she was light-headed.
He loves me. He only just told me he loves me. Please, please, please, I cannot do this again.
Anthony sought out Lady Pilkington, and with effort, Sophia pulled her attention back to Charity Denney.
“Miss Sophia, are you unwell?” Charity tilted her head. “You suddenly seem most peaked.”
She swallowed. The smells of the food surrounding them on buffet tables assaulted her nose, and she fought back a gag.
Please. Please.
Beatrice touched Sophia’s arm. “Sophia?”
Sophia looked at the young woman, focused on her face. Brown eyes, light brown hair, such a kind face. She inhaled carefully and exhaled slowly, willing her heart to relax. “I felt quite faint for a moment. I daresay all the excitement since last night has me quite exhausted.”
Beatrice nodded. “I understand. It was quite awful, was it not? How is little Charlie now?”
Sophia was grateful to have something else to focus on. “Amala Ayah has not left his side, of course, and Lady Pilkington spent the bulk of her day with him. He does not seem frightened, and has communicated in his quiet way when asked questions. Apparently the girl said nothing to hurt or alarm him; she did wander off a time or two but he stayed on her trail.” Sophia smiled. “He is a smart little fellow.”
Charity nodded. “Most assuredly, the dear. Mama retired early to her bedchamber when she heard Charlie had gone missing. I do believe it worried us all.”
“Do you know who would have done such a thing? Why harm Charlie?” Beatrice asked.
Sophia lifted a shoulder.
Charity’s eyes grew wide. “Perhaps it was a kidnapping for ransom, but Major Stuart and the prince’s men found Charlie before the demands could be made.”
Beatrice looked flatly at Sophia. “She has been reading lurid novels just arrived from England.”
Sophia laughed. “Ah, Charity, I should hate to think of a world where you are different than you are right now.”
Charity smiled at Sophia and shot a scowl at Beatrice. The girl’s attention shifted to the entry arch and her face lost all traces of humor. Taj Darzi had arrived with some of his attendants, and Lord and Lady Pilkington welcomed them with all due aplomb. Beatrice’s breath quickened, the color in her cheeks heightening becomingly.
“Why must he show his face everywhere we are?” Charity grumbled.
“Shh.” Sophia
linked their arms together. “Beatrice is an intelligent girl and knows what is best for her life.” She glanced at Beatrice, her steady demeanor, and found herself believing it.
Dinner was lavish and formal in its presentation, yet guests were encouraged to select their choices of food and sit at whichever table they chose. “Which is lovely,” Charity told Sophia, “because now we can enjoy one another’s company at a meal other than breakfast!”
“Indeed.” She smiled. Charity’s enthusiasm was infectious, and when she saw Anthony heading toward her, all was very nearly right in her world again. Lady Seadon the younger, however, was on a collision course with him, and when he realized her intentions, he quickly sat at a table that was full except for one seat. He had placed himself neatly between Clergyman Denney and Professor Gerald, who spoke to a blushing, smiling Rachael Scarsdale. Blushing and smiling? Sophia was happy for Rachael, who had mentioned earlier that she would welcome the gentleman’s suit, should he declare it.
A splash of color on Anthony’s black suit coat caught Sophia’s eye, and her breath stilled in her throat. She felt the burn of tears forming behind her eyes, and she blinked them back. He had placed flowers in his lapel. At home, before he’d left, he would place flowers of different kinds and colors in his lapel so that she would know he was thinking of her even when she was swamped by suitors and grasping debutantes anxious to ride along on her coattails. It had become a game; he would wear a flower, and when she returned home, she would look in her reference book, Le Language de Fleursand, to translate the meaning. Before long, she’d memorized entire pages.
Tonight he’d pulled flowers from the cracks in the ruins. The types of flowers were likely all wrong, but the colors were clear enough. Lavender for devotion, and blood-red orange for I love you. The colors were vibrant, and under the light of the full moon, she saw his messages clearly.
He held her gaze and put his hand to his heart. As his fingertips brushed against the lapel, the small boutonniere turned, and she noted a sprig of green. If he intended it as a stand in for mint, as he’d done once before in London, he was communicating warmth of feeling.
The Secret of the India Orchid Page 20
