“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.”
A moment of contemplative silence passed before Emma said, “I wonder how Mr. Mayhew is faring.”
Mina smiled, squeezing Emma’s hand. “If Mr. Mayhew were an animal, he might be an elephant.”
“While my Colin Rivers would be that neckless hyena,” Emma said. “The one with the mange.”
Mina eyed her sister. “I had not wanted to broach the subject of Mr. Rivers but—”
“Then why are you?”
She started carefully. “You threw your hairbrush at the mirror this morning.”
Emma shrugged. “My hair has been impossible. The humidity is provoking.”
“And the hotel deskman?”
“He knows how anxious I am. Why must I queue each and every time to inquire after my letters?”
“Because—”
“And why are you broaching the matter? You are not yet engaged and it’s been eight days. You might keep your concern for your own marriage.”
Her own—That stung, but Mina kept her tongue between her teeth. Emma knew very well matters were not as simple as all that. Not when so much hinged on the absent Colin Rivers.
But of all her sisters, Emma had the quickest temper—
“I’m sorry,” Emma mumbled. “I’m horrid.”
And the shortest-lived one. “No, you’re distressed.”
Emma swatted at the netting of her hat. “What if he does not come, Mina?”
Swallowing the usual panic that question bred, Mina kept her voice calm. “Then I will speak to Thomas.”
“He won’t want his wife’s sister in their home.”
“Then we begin again, that’s all. We find two new bachelors living in the same district.”
“But if Mr. Rivers—”
“We must give him a reasonable amount of time, and no longer.”
“A month more?”
Poor Emma. She cared for her letter-writing beau more than she would admit. “A fortnight, I think.”
Emma fell silent, her gaze on the ladies strolling with the Company men ahead of them. “I know you’re right. The best bachelors have already been claimed. I just wonder… Mr. Rivers did pay my bond to sail. And we are contracted to marry. Is a fortnight a fair amount of time?”
“Could you bear to wait longer?”
“No…I suppose not,” Emma said quietly.
“And we cannot afford to wait, Emma.” Mina didn’t want to frighten her younger sister, so she said this as lightly and as simply as she could. That always seemed to work best.
A quiet moment passed before Emma spoke. “I heard Mr. Rivers sent his last communication from a post in the Upper Mekong River Valley.”
Surprised, Mina looked at her sister. “Who told you that?”
“Alice. Yesterday, Sarah said that Vicky heard the news from the wife of a director.”
“How long ago was the letter sent?”
“Months ago. He’s drawn funds from his accounts since, but no one has seen or heard from him.” Emma stared at the ground. “Do you think something’s wrong, Mina? They tell me that region is dangerous, the borderland between Tibet and China.”
The borderland…where the massacre occurred. Where Georgiana Mayhew had traveled. “I don’t know, Emma.”
“He did write lovely letters,” Emma said softly.
Mina linked arms with her sister.
“Mina.” Emma tugged her arm to gain her attention. “What’s the difference between an Indian elephant and an African one?”
“I don’t know.”
“About three thousand miles.”
Mina stared at Emma. “Goodness. Was that a joke?”
Emma’s blue eyes glinted with the faintest humor—a valiant humor. She hugged Emma’s arm. They would stay together. She had not sailed all this way to abandon another sister.
They continued their walk, slowly pacing after their party as they neared the monkey cages.
Mina checked her timepiece. Where was Thomas?
“He’s just late,” Emma said, guessing her thoughts. “Thomas has much to do with Mr. Mayhew.”
“Yes.” Would Thomas bring Mr. Mayhew? Did she want him to? Part of her wished to believe she and Thomas would be engaged by now without the distraction of Seth Mayhew. That Thomas’s attention would be hers, and he would promise to shelter Emma because there would be such an understanding between them that there would be no need for her to plead for her sister.
And yet the other part desperately wanted a happy ending for Mr. Mayhew and for Georgiana.
A happy ending for them all.
“I think that is why Thomas has not made his offer,” Emma continued. “He knows he has neglected you these first days.”
“Perhaps it’s better he has not. Not without Colin Rivers secured.”
“I think that makes him a very superior sort of gentleman, Mina, allowing us this time to wait.”
She wasn’t at all convinced of his motivation. “Yes, he’s very”—what?—“pragmatic.”
Emma frowned but smoothed her countenance immediately. “Then he is perfect for you. Two such pragmatic, managing people—”
“I’m not managing.”
“—it hardly seems fair. You ought to marry a complete wastrel and rehabilitate him.”
“And if our children resemble the wastrel?”
“Then you will rehabilitate them, too. You always did take care of everyone. Not that Thomas will ever need such help.”
The words struck Mina cold. That was true. She would be a resourceful, economical wife.
To a man who required one.
They wandered nearer the monkey exhibit, lingering behind their friends who strolled with Company men. Would the ladies remember to ask after Georgiana Mayhew today? She would have to remind them again. Perhaps she might meet some of the gentlemen herself?
“You do like him, don’t you, Mina?”
“Yes, of course. Mr. Mayhew is very likable.”
Emma slowed her step. “I was speaking of Thomas.”
Oh…stupid. “Yes, of course. I like Thomas as well.”
Emma raised a brow and waited.
Well, what matter if she knew? Mina sighed. “It is just…sometimes I have the strangest feeling with Thomas. He doesn’t seem willing to take me into his confidence at all. It’s as if he were already claimed by another.” She reached for the pebble in her pocket, the stone’s smooth contour so familiar. “If we wed, we need to be friends, companions. It doesn’t matter if he loves me but—”
“Mina!”
Emma’s admonishment was immediate, but there was no conviction behind it. And that broke Mina’s heart. Because Emma knew it was the truth.
“We left our sisters, Emma. Our home. Love doesn’t matter.” She squeezed Emma’s arm. “We learned that dearly from Mary, didn’t we?”
Emma’s eyes clouded with sadness. Ahead, the ladies giggled at something one of the gentlemen said, and Emma leveled her chin. “One week, Mina. Not two.”
Mina understood. There was only ever one man on Emma’s mind—for all the turmoil he was causing. Colin Rivers had one week to reach Bombay.
Tears pricked her eyes and she turned to hide her face. Emma might possess the quickest temper in the family, but she also possessed the most rigid code of right and wrong. Even if Mr. Rivers returned before Wednesday next, she might never forgive him this offense.
“India is a large country,” Emma said. “Full of Englishmen desperate for English brides. Whomever one of us chooses, wherever he lives, there will be an available gentleman for the other.”
“Yes.” Everything will be all right. Mina knew that.
When she was feeling brave, she even believed that.
“We are falling behind.” Emma nudged her forward.
“Yes—” She cut off at the sight of two men walking toward them. Thomas and Mr. Mayhew. The men had their heads together as they approached, their expressions serious. Still in the midst of their planning, then. Recognizing them in their hats would have been difficult if not for Mr. Mayhew’s broad shoulders and long, easy stride.
Thomas wore a crisp pith helmet that was the very picture of British India. And Mr. Mayhew, in his safari hat and slim, low-slung trousers—Oh, honestly. She ought to be able to look at the man without her body heating so stupidly.
But evidently she had wanted Thomas to bring Mr. Mayhew. She’d had no assurance he would come, and as invulnerable as he appeared, not knowing what his sister might be enduring had to be awful.
Mina shook off her reverie and smiled at Thomas, her future husband—God willing.
“Good afternoon, Mina.” Thomas nodded to Emma. “Emma.”
“I’m so pleased you were able to join us,” Mina said. Mr. Mayhew doffed his hat and stood back, a small smile on his lips. “And how have you been, Mr. Mayhew?”
“Sadder than the tears of a puppy without the sight of you, Miss Mina.”
Her cheeks warmed, but in her relief in seeing him, she didn’t mind. “Really, Mr. Mayhew, you will swell my head. You must stop your flattery.”
“Yes, Mayhew,” Thomas said dryly. “Stop.”
Mr. Mayhew nodded to Emma. “Miss Emma, aren’t you looking well?”
Emma beamed, her cheeks blushing. “Oh, thank you, Mr. May—”
“What’s this little monkey, then?” Mr. Mayhew turned to peer into the cage. “A gray langur? Looks like my Uncle Fred except his side-whiskers are a bit tidier. The monkey’s, I mean.”
Emma deflated without a better compliment of her own.
No, Mina did not understand men at all. Emma was the most beautiful of all her sisters. Mr. Mayhew’s flirtation was as disordered as his conversation. And already, he was studying the party of Company men.
“Tom, know any of the gents up there?” he asked.
A look of surprise flashed across Thomas’s face. “The one with the beard. Turnbull’s his name. He’s usually in Calcutta. He’s secretary to the agriculture board of directors.”
“An important gentleman, then,” Mina said.
“He’d have access to information of Georgiana’s crew.” Thomas held Seth’s eye. “We were in Calcutta together for that unpleasant bit of time. I’m not the man to make an introduction.”
Confused, Mina waited for an explanation, but Mr. Mayhew simply nodded, rocking on his heels. The man seemed to constantly be in motion. He dipped his head down to hers. “Who’s that lady with him, Miss Mina?”
A warm fragrance of shaving soap enveloped her. He really had to stop talking in her ear like this. “That is Amelia Radcliffe. She knows of Georgiana. She was at the Byculla Club that night.”
He nodded, his eyes sharp and intent on the company ahead, and she tensed with excitement for his opportunity. But when he turned to meet her gaze, his sea-green eyes crinkled warmly and all he said was, “That hat is awfully becoming on you, Minnie.”
The words were too low for anyone else to hear but she blushed to the roots of her hair. “You are a terrible flirt, Mr. Mayhew,” she whispered.
He grinned and straightened from her, and she concentrated on cooling her heated face—which was impossible, as he wouldn’t look away. “Emma and I visited the shops on Rampart Row this morning. Our sola topees, that is what they call sun hats here, were recommended. As were these tinted glasses for the sun.”
“But how will I see those pretty brown eyes?”
“Look, Seth, a baboon,” Thomas said dryly.
Mr. Mayhew winked at her. “Got no time for monkeys, Tom.” And without another word, he fitted his hat and strode in the direction of the Company men.
Thomas wiped a weary hand over his face. That was a habit of his, then.
“Do you think Mr. Turnbull might help?” she asked.
Tom sighed. “I’m not hopeful.”
“But how could anyone refuse to help him?” Emma said, sounding decidedly smitten.
“He has no real connections,” Thomas said, not understanding that was meant as a rhetorical question. Absently, he offered Mina his arm, and she took it with a smile that he did not notice. “And worst of all, many Company men have secured their brides in the days since the shikar and feel no need to honor their promises to lend aid.”
It took her a moment to comprehend, then anger spiked in her. “Who has not?”
Thomas’s brows rose with mild amusement at the question. “Shall I provide a list?”
“A list?” she breathed in horror. How could Thomas smile at a time like this? “There are so many?”
“Well—”
“Then, yes, a list would serve,” she said. “Emma and I can inform their fiancées of their conduct and inconstancy.”
“Indeed.” Emma huffed. “Are they men, or are they weathercocks?”
“Well…uh,” Thomas stammered in the face of two, suddenly indignant women. “I suppose I could write up that list.”
“Today, Thomas,” Emma demanded pointedly.
“If you please,” Mina added, in apology for Emma’s passion.
“Yes, of course,” he murmured.
Frustration simmered just beneath her skin. Thomas should not be so cavalier. And those so-called gentlemen…she would never understand men.
“Mayhew’s made progress elsewhere,” Thomas said, his tone placating. “He’s been interviewing many of the locals who’ve accompanied British and French expeditions before. He’s secured quite an impressive crew if the day comes to leave India.”
Mina tensed. “Could that happen soon?”
“There is not much more we—he—can accomplish in Bombay.” Thomas looked straight ahead.
We.
The plummet of her stomach broke Mina’s stride. She gripped the pebble in her skirt pocket till the rough edges left her palm throbbing.
Coward! Thomas did not say he was leaving.
But it was time. She must speak to him today about Emma, about their future, as it seemed unlikely he ever would. She notched her chin higher.
They strolled in silence behind Mr. Mayhew as he paced beside Amelia. He flashed his smile at the lady, and she dipped her head subtly. But the quick turn of Amelia’s head invited no familiarity and Mr. Mayhew did not press. He took off his hat and raked a hand through his hair, doggedly trailing the men who ignored him.
Horrid, horrid East India men.
Her heart ached for him, for herself, for Emma, but she could not afford to act defeated. Thomas was the man she needed to marry. Especially if Colin Rivers returned.
She forced her gaze back to him and smiled. “Have you ever seen a rhinoceros, Thomas? Emma and I laughed because—”
“No,” Thomas groaned.
Mina stiffened at the blunt word, but Thomas’s attention was not on her. Mr. Mayhew had sidled up to Secretary Turnbull, who was pointing out the baby warthogs to Amelia.
Mr. Mayhew leaned on the railing in front of the cages, and crossed an ankle behind him. The wide vee of his back and muscled backside quickly caught the admiring glances of the women and stirred the men into all manner of fidgety posturing.
Oh no. Masculine wiles.
Poor Mr. Mayhew. He really had no idea how to conduct himself with this company.
Mr. Mayhew grinned and said something to Secretary Turnbull, but the man merely arched a superior brow and turned his back.
Vile man. Why did Thomas not do something? Why didn’t Amelia?
As if hearing her silent scold, Amelia whispered in her gentleman’s ear. He patted Amelia’s hand and then turned to Mr. Mayhew. The men shook hands and wandered a few feet to converse. Thank goodness. Perhaps there would be help today after all.
“Forgive me, Mina.” Thomas smiled down at her, his attention restored. “I was distracted.”
She dragged her gaze from the scene and focused on Thomas. She smiled into her own reflection in his spectacles.
They walked and talked. The conversation was easy, but not at all one of intimate acquaintance. Ahead, Mr. Mayhew finished his discussion with Secretary Turnbull, but when he saw her and Thomas walking arm in arm, he pulled low the brim of his hat and turned, sauntering in front of them.
Would he not rejoin them?
“…the rainy season is far worse in the south,” Thomas said.
“I see,” she murmured stupidly, unable to think of anything to say. Thomas would not like a wife with no conversation. But this was unnatural. Mr. Mayhew’s search for Georgiana was of vital importance and they spoke of the weather.
The cluster of men and ladies ahead diverged from the cages, their attention caught by a crowd forming a large circle.
“Where is everyone going?” Emma asked.
“Appears there is an entertainment about to begin,” Thomas said.
They approached the ring of spectators and Mina jerked with surprise. An Indian lion was crouched and pulling from his handler’s chain. A low growl sounded from the animal’s lowered head, but the poor creature didn’t move. It almost seemed frightened.
A crack in the air made her heart leap into her throat. The handler’s whip swung a second time but she was no more prepared for the sound. The lion reared back on its hind legs and roared, startling the onlookers.
But the lion’s teeth looked odd. And his paws swiped at his own collar rather than the whip. The crowd gasped, but an uncomfortable relief seemed to settle over them at the lion’s show of spirit.
“This is horrible.” Emma started forward but stopped, knowing better than to distract the handler at the other end of the dangerous animal.
Thomas’s face was grim, and Emma turned her back. Mina’s own body trembled with disgust but Mr. Mayhew…
Mr. Mayhew didn’t look away. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his face stony. She might have thought him disinterested if his gloves weren’t stretched taut over his knuckles.
The handler bowed, the lion dropped its head, appearing resigned to its captivity, and the crowd applauded. Mr. Mayhew’s face, even in the shade of his hat, had turned pale. The next instant, he stalked off and disappeared around the corner.
Her heart pulsed sickly in her chest. What was the matter?
She looked to Thomas and Emma, but they hadn’t seen him leave. She mustn’t—she shouldn’t worry. She had to let him alone, not jeopardize her match, her future—“Thomas?”
His name spilled from her lips before she fully knew what she meant to say. His brows rose in question, and she swallowed against the block in her throat.
“Mr. Mayhew has left,” she said. “Would you…might you go after him and see that he is all right?”
Thomas searched the crowd.
“No, he’s gone. In that direction.” She pointed, but Thomas only looked down at her.
“He must have remembered an errand, Mina.”
“He looked upset.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Thomas said. “Mayhew’s not a man sensitive to upset, and he has much on his mind.”
Frustration spiked in her. “Yes. He does.” She willed him to see the plea in her eyes. Would he not help? Even for her sake? Even after eight days of this stupid, interminable waiting for Colin Rivers, for him, for some…for some reassurance?
But she did not have the power to command him, as a woman loved might have. Her heart sank. “I…I would like to be sure.”
But Thomas’s stare was predictably, horribly unmoved.
She was so tired of waiting. Tired of pretending any of this was normal. Tired of feeling so…alone in this. She withdrew her hand from his arm. “Mr. Mayhew has shown me only kindness and encouragement from my first moments in Bombay. I feel I owe him the same.”
“Mina—”
“I’ll return directly. Please stay with Emma.” And before Thomas could say another word, she hurried to find Mr. Mayhew.
God, was this a mistake?
The slow-moving crowd hindered her search at every turn but no one seemed to notice her chase. There. Mr. Mayhew stood again near the monkey cages, his arm braced against the trunk of a tree. He stared at the ground but the nearer she drew, the more she doubted he saw anything at all.
“Mr. Mayhew?”
He lifted his head. “Minnie?” He looked behind her. “Where’s Tom?”
“Are you leaving?”
The realization she was alone seemed to irritate him. “No, I was…” He shoved off the tree and, in two long strides, was beside her and taking her elbow. “I’ll walk you back. Tom’ll be wanting you.”
No he doesn’t—
He steered her around, his grip gentle but firm. Obediently, she walked with him but the heaviest sadness descended on her heart, slowing her feet. “I didn’t like how they chained that lion,” she said quietly.
His stride faltered and he came to a stop. But he kept his face turned from her. “Did you see what they did to him?”
As low as his words were, she had to strain to hear him. “The chain?”
“They filed down his fangs and took out his claws.”
Her stomach lurched before she could blank the picture from her mind. “I didn’t know they did such things.”
“They do as they please.” His voice was nearly a growl. He unclenched the grip he had on her. “And he has to let them. A beast wouldn’t know better, so they think it don’t matter.”
“Mr. Mayhew—”
“They take away everything. Anything they can take, they’ll take. But you don’t make it so he can’t protect his family or provide—you don’t take that away. It’s damn—!”
The words quit abruptly but the roar reverberated through her. His broad chest heaved and his muscled arms ended in two massive fists.
But her feet moved toward him anyway.
He jerked when she drew close but stood still. The only movement in his body was the flicker of a muscle in his jaw. “I don’t—” He clenched his eyes shut. “Sorry, Minnie, I don’t mean to be using that language with you.”
“I know,” she whispered. His fist was large and heavy so she held it with both hands. And that was all she could do. Because she was a coward. She couldn’t hold him or dare comfort him with anything more, because she was a coward and she couldn’t lose Thomas and yet…
And yet she’d followed him here.
His fist eased open between her hands, but he didn’t let her go. His fingers laced through hers and held tight. The strength and the warmth in his hand might have been wrapped around her heart. She waited, unable to move. Unwilling to move. Beneath the shadow of his hat, his eyes were closed and his chest rose with slow breaths. Once…twice…three times—
A langur monkey shrieked and his eyes flew open. He pulled his hand from hers and rubbed his brow.
“It’s all right,” she whispered.
He huffed an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, I shouldn’t…” His eyes followed the restless monkeys, a grim smile on his lips. “There’s monkeys and there’s gentlemen, and there’s them in-between.”
“Don’t say that!” She caught his hand and hugged it against her breast, and his brows crashed down in confusion.
“Minnie—?”
“You have no right to say that. And I am not laughing.”
A tempest darkened his face, his ocean eyes fathomless. “Then you’re the only one.” With his hand held against her, all it took was a curling flex of his arm and she was pulled to his body.
“Maybe this’ll make you laugh.” His eyes crinkled, but she didn’t like them this way. “You want to know what Turnbull said to me back there? He said he’d spare some time for me when he’s back from his wedding trip. In April. If he wasn’t busy, if there wasn’t another matter claiming his attention. That made me laugh.”
“I can speak to Amelia—”
“Another matter—like Georgie wasn’t any sort of matter at all. What sort of man would say that? Like my sister didn’t matter? How am I supposed to wait—?”
“You’re not alone here!”
He blinked, and the storm in his eyes broke. Hot pants of breath laved her face, but his hard wrist relaxed.
She didn’t know why she said that, but the words would not be held back. “You are not alone, Mr. Mayhew,” she said softly. “Please don’t ever feel you are alone in this, that there is no help. I’m with you.”
His eyes drifted to her chest as if suddenly aware she held his hand pressed against her.
“And…and Thomas and Emma, too.” Her voice shook. “We’re all—”
Slowly, he spread his fingers open, over her breast, and her nerves tightened—but his fingers didn’t linger. They slid higher, brushing her collarbone, until his palm flattened against her. On her heartbeat.
“Mr. Mayhew—”
“Seth.” He raised his eyes from his hand, from her heart, and she was caught by the plea in them. “My name’s Seth, Minnie.”
The need in his deep voice—undemanding but raw and deep—sent a tremor through her. It was the same need mirrored in her own heart. For him.
For him, and not Thomas.
The instant the thought crossed her mind, he saw it. Whatever showed—betrayal or hopelessness or wanting—he saw it. And it terrified her, because the storm in his eyes raged to life again.
She should move. Her heart was pounding—he would feel that. “We should return—” But her step back was denied by a large hand on her back. He pressed her close, their hands flattened between them. His heartbeat hammered against her now.
“Miss W. Adams,” he murmured. He angled lower, dipping beneath the brim of her hat, his lips hovering at her brow. He nuzzled her hair and breathed deep, and that slow smile bloomed across her temple. “Why are you on my side?”
The bristle of his whiskers pricked her cheek and it was the only sensation she could name. Her head was heavy, swimming. His lips moved closer, slowly, softly, until her eyelids fluttered shut against the sight of him. Warm lips pressed the corner of her mouth. And lingered.
Her heart pounded. Or was it his? Held tight against his chest, his size, his heat and strength overwhelmed. And his mouth was crowding closer.
A small, strangled gasp escaped her and his lips parted, but not to cover hers. They shared the warm, wet air between them, intimate and perfect and dizzying.
It was not a kiss…not a kiss…
It was more.
His hand slid higher to cradle her neck. “Minnie…”
His voice rumbled deep in her core. Even pressed against him, she strained to feel more. The hard ridge of his hip, the lean stomach, the powerful thighs. All of her vibrated deep and low with a sort of electricity.
She clutched the back of his coat, the fabric stretching over his hard back. He was so hard all over—
He moaned, “God, Minnie.”
And his lips covered hers. A strong tongue pushed past her lips and tasted her, savored her. His arms tightened and his kiss deepened. The possession so complete, so right, her body swayed. Like on the ship…on the sea…and Seth had the sign—
Her lids blinked open. Seth. Not Thomas, not…
The ground rushed back under her feet, steady and solid. Seth’s hand tightened on her neck with a low, desperate sound. His kiss lightened, lifted, until his mouth hovered and their panting breath mingled.
Seth…this was Seth. Ocean eyes. They could be so blue—
There was some question in his eyes, but she was frozen. He turned his head. “I… That’s enough,” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly.
His body retreated so suddenly, she swayed and reached for balance. He caught her arm and pulled it through his, and then they were moving in the direction she had come from. The air cooled her body, and she hated it. She wanted his arms.
She stumbled on the pavement, only then realizing how she was hurrying to keep up with him. “Mr. Mayhew?” But he stared straight ahead. Was he angry? Was he—?
That’s enough.
Shame flooded her. He had been angry and anguished over Georgiana. And no one had helped him; she had not helped him.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I did not—”
But his arm slipped from beneath hers, and she sailed forward without him, toward Thomas and Emma, where they stood with the group. She swung around and instinctively moved to follow—
“Mina?”
She froze at Thomas’s voice. Mr. Mayhew disappeared around the corner. She breathed deep and licked her lips, soft and tingling from the kiss.
Her first kiss.
She could not think of that now. Steeling herself, she turned. Thomas and Emma watched her with puzzled looks.
“What was the matter?” Thomas asked.
The matter? “I…” She averted her eyes. “Mr. Mayhew was feeling unwell.”
Thomas said nothing and she forced herself to meet his eye. Her face would be flushed, but there was no help for it. She steadied her voice. “I was worried, with the strain he is under. And all that’s new.”
Thomas tilted his head, his eyes masked by the glare of his spectacles. “You needn’t worry so. I’ll be with him. Tonight and tomorrow and every day until matters are sorted.” After a moment, he approached and offered his arm. “You are softhearted, Mina, but Mayhew would tell you himself: he’s an extremely resilient man.”
No, not so resilient. But Seth did have Thomas. He wasn’t alone, not really. And she…she would do all that she safely could.
And she would not think how small that sounded.
Emma’s face was wan and confused, and Mina nodded with what she hoped was reassurance. She would not forget again—not risk again. They were no more than jetsam on the sea. Alone and vulnerable until claimed by a husband.
Other winds may propel her toward Mr. Mayhew, but Thomas was the man she had sailed to marry.
Starting now, she would correct her course.
* * *
Goddamn it, what the hell was he doing?
Seth couldn’t leave the zoo fast enough, or far enough, behind him. A narrow alley weaved to his left, and he turned down it blindly.
Why the hell was he kissing Mina? Kissing her when she had another man waiting? Why did he want her? How was that supposed to help Georgie? How the hell was he going to find her without help from East India? Without any goddamn help, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t find—
The thought slammed him like a club to the gut. Bent double, he struggled to get air into his lungs. Christ, Georgie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just stay alive. I’m coming, I swear it.
His lungs were burning. Why couldn’t he breathe?
Stay alive, Georgie.
He’d made a little progress today. Secretary Turnbull… They’d been introduced. He’d said he was willing to meet. But not in April. They’d meet tomorrow—he’d try to meet him tomorrow. It wouldn’t be too late.
He slammed his fist into his thigh—it couldn’t be too late—and again, and again. Anything to stop all the damn questions in his head—
You’re not alone here…
Mina.
You are not alone.
The memory of her voice slowed his thoughts, sorted them. Seth’s body, his brain, clung to her. The soft, warm body fitted against his, and the beat of her heart under his palm. The smell of her perfume. She smelled like roses, like a garden in summer. She was—Christ, she was sweet. She’d tasted so sweet.
She’d come looking for him, worried for him. Like a wife would…
His hands fisted the fabric of his trousers where they rested on his thighs. A wife wasn’t any of his business. He pushed up and stood straight, pacing forward, one foot in front of the other.
Mina wouldn’t think too long on it. It hadn’t been a long kiss. He’d wanted to kiss her longer, could’ve kissed her longer, but she’d changed. Her body went stiff.
Shame sizzled under all the other regrets he was feeling. She had gone all stiff in his arms. No, it hadn’t been much of a kiss. Maybe it was barely a kiss to her.
Except it was like no kiss he’d ever had. He’d had damn few in his life, though.
A young boy hurried toward him, his teeth dazzling and his black eyes shiny as Whitby jet. Seth slowed his step. “Hello there, lad.”
“Memsahib, you are like Bali, like Mahabali.” His hopeful smile widened, even as his palm opened and hovered under Seth’s nose.
Seth shook his head and despite everything, despite his blood still coursing hot in his veins, he chuckled at the boy’s beaming face. It was either that or cry. The lad’s clothes were rags.
“Mahabali, is it?” He fished in his pocket for a few coppers and handed them over. Then added an anna. “I’ll pretend that’s some sort of compliment as I don’t know any different.”
The boy beamed, shaking the fist that held the coins in the air. “Thank you, sahib, thank you. You are Mahabali.”
“That’s all right, lad.”
The boy turned and dashed off on his thin legs.
“It’s all right,” he breathed, though no one was listening.
Seth followed and found himself on a long, bustling street teeming with mules, buggies, and a horse-drawn omnibus. The boy wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Market stalls stretched along either side, offering live chickens and vegetables, and red and orange and yellow spices, and copper pots and calico and khaki.
And everywhere he looked in the bazaar, women and children crouched on the ground, ignored by everyone, even the stray dogs. Most didn’t bother to find themselves a bit of shade, but sat under the full force of the sun.
Christ, Bombay might have been England. The England he knew, anyway—where men abandoned their families.
Mina had a man that would take care of her. Hell, what was he thinking, kissing her? If Tom had seen…
Seth heaved a centering breath. It was past time he let Mina Adams alone. He’d already lost his mum and hadn’t kept Georgie safe. He had no business being alone with Mina, or wanting her.
He wasn’t a man that took care of things.