Andrew’s hopes of finding the time to ride out one day soon with Victoria Latham rapidly faded when he saw the list of duties waiting for him in the next week.
Colonel Moncrief required him to attend a briefing on the intelligence that had just come in concerning a Russian scouting party having been intercepted while they were surveying mountain trails through the Hindu Kush. The rumblings of unrest were growing louder along the North-west Frontier – broken alliances, tribal skirmishes and jehads which seemed to have been deliberately ignited by an outside interest: Russia.
Which way would the maharaja jump if the tsar’s force reached the borders of Kashmir? Captain Wyndham was instructed to gain this information from His Highness on the hill – by threats, by wheedling, by offering inducements.
And if this wasn’t enough to keep Andrew busy, the Resident wanted him to be available to act as an escort for a lady and her daughter who were coming to spend a holiday at the residency.
The ladies were acquaintances of Lady Phillips’s sister in London, but if it had been the Queen herself arriving, poor Lady Phillips could not have been in a greater flurry of anxiety about the visit.
‘No, not those dishes – I said I wanted to use the Minton service! And please put the new quilts on the beds. Oh, do make haste to change those carpets!’
Andrew groaned when he was given his list of escort duties in the week ahead. Lord, if he didn’t soon move out of this job, he really would turn into the lackey that his father had accused him of becoming. At least it was a relief to know that the general had gone up to the mountains to hunt bears and leopards, and wouldn’t be here to witness the kind of work that his son was being required to perform.
At the conclusion of his official inspection of the regiment, Gordon Wyndham had surprised everyone by going off into the mountains with a hunting party which also included Mr and Mrs Cooke, visitors from Bombay.
There’d been winks and nudges in the officers’ mess when the general had announced a change of plans and delayed his return to Delhi after meeting the enticing Beatrice Cooke at dinner one evening. Wyndham was a master of any sport which involved guns or women, but Andrew didn’t pause to wonder what success his father might be having in this current game of hunting another man’s wife. Even if he captured the lady, it wouldn’t last. These affairs of his never did.
Andrew sent a note of apology to Victoria, expressing regrets that his free time this week had been eroded, and hoping that there would be an opportunity for their picnic next week. In quiet moments, he often thought about her. She was quick witted and perceptive; a woman with no artifice, affable without being effusive, a woman with whom a man would find it possible to form a true friendship.
And one night before he dropped off to sleep, he came to the conclusion that her hair wasn’t truly brown at all: in the sunlight, it became the colour of newly-sawn mahogany – auburn, chestnut, copper, bronze.
One afternoon, as he rode down at sunset from the fort, following one more long, inconclusive audience with the maharaja, he felt far too weary to spend another evening in the company of Lady Phillips’s visitors from London.
Both mother and daughter were painfully self-important and patronizing, and his own meagre supply of social chit-chat had been exhausted during the first fifteen minutes in their company. Sir Ian’s new young aide, he decided, would have to perform the expected niceties that night at the dinner table.
So, instead of reining in at the residency compound, Andrew rode on to Nigel Pelham’s house. It was over a week since he’d parted ways with Victoria and the impulse to see her again had been growing stronger in him all day. How much time remained before she packed her bags and left Srinagar? After he’d knocked on the door and asked to see Mrs Latham, he stood slapping his riding crop impatiently against his riding boot. Once she was on her way back to England, their paths were unlikely to ever cross again.
‘Andrew!’ The taffeta skirt of her cream dinner gown rustled as she hurried down the stairs, smiling. ‘How good it is of you to call. Do come into the drawing room; we actually have some chairs ready to use again.’
He caught a pleasant scent about her like fruit and flowers. ‘Thank you, but no, I can’t stay. Sorry. I just wanted to give you my apologies for having failed to honour my promise to—’
‘I won’t hear another word,’ she scolded gently. ‘I know you have a busy schedule, and you know that I’ll be glad to see you at any time.’
The warmth in her voice made his weariness fade, and he was hit by an uncharacteristic and utterly irresistible impulse. ‘Victoria, I know it’s short notice, but I’d like to take you for that picnic in the hills tomorrow, if you have no other engagement. There’s a lot to see up there, interesting places to visit.’
She gave a laugh of surprise. ‘Oh, yes, but you do remember, don’t you, that I’ve never ridden a horse? We’ll have to go very slowly. Shall I come down to the stables? What time would you like me there?’
He felt like a schoolboy thumbing his nose at the detention given by a bad-tempered headmaster. Young Wyndham was going to climb from the schoolroom window tomorrow morning and escape for the day. Damn the old maharaja playing spiteful games in his hill-top fort, damn the Russians marching towards the border, and damn Lady Phillips’s painful visitors! Let them all stew for a day, he thought wildly. Sir Ian’s poor young aide could have the wretched duty of escorting the London ladies to a regimental band concert tomorrow afternoon because Captain Wyndham would be in the mountains, enjoying the company of the delightful Victoria Latham.
‘Is nine o’clock too early for you to be at the stables?’
‘Not at all! And thank you again, Andrew. I look forward to it.’
Andrew grinned to himself as he rode back to his house in the Residency compound. He claimed pressure of work when he sent his apologies to Lady Phillips and called for dinner to be brought to his study.
Ah, yes, tomorrow. He was about to share a whole day with a woman who was like no other he’d ever known. In the short time he’d spent in her company, he’d found her to be warm and open, with no whiff of coquetry in her manner. It was ridiculous to be feeling like a schoolboy at his age, yet each time she came into his mind, she roused a dangerous longing within him – and one that was not entirely carnal.
He drew in a deep breath and steadied his breathing. Then, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, he rallied his concentration and settled down at the desk to write the day’s reports and open his correspondence. Most of what lay before him were routine matters, and he found his mind drifting back to Victoria. There was a well-behaved black horse in the stables which would suit her perfectly – tall, but with easy gait, mouth as soft as butter and—
He opened the next envelope. It was from the Intelligence Office in Simla and contained the annual report on the political and military activity in various independent states throughout the country. As these provinces were beyond the reach of British law, the princely states frequently became involved in tangled dynastic power struggles, complicated by long-running, bloody wars with their neighbours.
Inevitably, all this confusion made it a fiendishly difficult task for the officers who were assigned to collate the information, and their reports were usually well out of date by the time they were distributed.
Andrew turned the pages quickly. His interest lay in one state only – the little kingdom of Gwalinpore far away on the edge of the Rajasthan desert. He skimmed the page for any mention of—
His heart lurched. That name. It couldn’t be – yet, there it was! He sat staring at the blunt words disbelievingly and read the report again. The breath left his lungs and, for a split second, the pain of the news was like a red-hot steel whip slashing across his soul. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the scene in his mind. Dear God! It hurt almost more than he could bear. No, no, no!
He swept the papers from his desk, folded his arms on it, and gave way to emotion.
The other occupants of the residency were still at breakfast when Victoria arrived at the stables next morning. Andrew’s greeting was a little distant, she thought, and he looked as though he’d had very little sleep.
A syce led two saddled horses from their stalls and, without another word, Andrew cupped his hands to boost her onto a tall black mount. His expression softened when he saw her look of alarm.
‘It’s all right, Victoria. I know he’s big, but Rex is a perfect gentleman who’ll give you no trouble, I promise.’
She took a deep, nervous breath as he swung her up onto the lady’s saddle. She settled her leg over the knee rest and arranged her skirt while he adjusted the length of the stirrup, then handed her the reins. She wriggled to test her balance on the high seat. ‘Will you stay close and tell me what I should do?’
‘Of course.’ He sprang onto his grey. ‘Now, just loosen your reins and nudge your heel gently into his flank. He’ll understand.’
Her heart thumped wildly, but Andrew was right. The tall, well-mannered animal responded to her signals and they moved off at a fast walk along the road that wound its way out of the city.
‘That’s it. Keep your back straight, elbows in and your hands low. Excellent.’
She concentrated fiercely until she grew familiar with the horse’s gait. Only then did she allow herself to relax a little and look around at the scattered farms they passed, the fields of flowering saffron and mustard, the orchards of quince and almond trees.
Andrew was not an easy man to read, and today he seemed to be lost in his own deep thoughts. For some time neither spoke. ‘I’m sorry to be so dull this morning,’ he said suddenly, turning to look at her, ‘but I had—’ He frowned and broke off.
‘You don’t have to keep me entertained, Andrew. I’m enjoying this tremendously – and what a splendid view of everything you get from up here on the back of a horse. I should have taken up riding years ago. And look what’s coming down the road towards us now! How wonderful – a family setting off for somewhere on their elephant. What a sight to write about in my next letter to Emily and Martin.’
He gave a murmur of agreement, and they rode on in silence again for some time. His dark mood puzzled her, but it was easy to ignore that when all her concentration was needed on this new experience of horse riding. She tried to relax further and leaned forward to pat the horse’s neck.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked suddenly, and she nodded. ‘Then let’s pick up the pace a little now and try a slow canter along this stretch. Just keep the ball of your foot in the stirrup.’
Her heartbeat rose as Rex surged forward at the touch of her heel and the road seemed to fly beneath his hoofs. But within minutes she had settled herself to the steady rhythm of his stride and gradually began to enjoy the excitement.
The long road wound its way upwards, until at last the deserted stone buildings of the Pari Mahal, the old royal observatory, came into view, standing out high on a distant spur. It took them another hour’s riding to reach it and, when they did, Andrew dismounted and stood beside her while she eased her leg over the knee rest and slipped her foot from the stirrup.
‘Slide down now.’ He raised his arms to help her to the ground, and continued to hold her by the waist until she’d regained her balance. ‘You’ve done very well this morning,’ he said, as she gave a groan and stretched to ease her muscles. ‘We’ve a lot more to see this afternoon, so I hope I haven’t tired you too much.’
‘Thanks, I’m perfectly fine. At least I think I am – but I’m sure to feel even better after I’ve rested a little.’
He tethered the horses and took a canvas square from his saddle-bag to spread on the edge of the spur at a point from where Victoria had a vista of mountains, trees and sky that seemed to stretch to the end of the world.
‘How wonderful!’ she sighed, settling herself on the ground. ‘Thank you, Andrew, it’s absolutely perfect.’
There was no wind to stir the trees, no sound to be heard from the waterfall and the racing torrent in the gorge far below. Nothing moved. It was as if the whole world was standing still and holding its breath.
She glanced across at Andrew. He’d taken off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing brown arms knotted with lean muscle. She was momentarily discomposed by an impulse to run her hand up his forearm as she would have touched some piece of bronze sculpture, just for the pleasure of feeling its shape.
She looked away quickly, drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.
Andrew was stretched out on the grass a few yards away, propped on one elbow, and gazing out into the distance with his mind clearly miles away. His mouth was tightly set and there were dark hollows of weariness under his eyes.
She shifted position and let her own thoughts drift to the fast-approaching end of her holiday. How much more she’d now have to tell Martin and Emily about her time in Srinagar. What would she say about the enigmatic Captain Andrew Wyndham? Who was the real man living behind that wall of reserve? The devoted father of Annabelle? The bitter son of a British general? Certainly a man she would like to have known better, if time had allowed it.
She threw another glance at him. He was still leaning on his elbow, but now he was watching her. For a long moment their glances held before he ran his tongue over his lower lip.
‘Victoria, I’m sorry to be such a deadly bore today, but – you see, I discovered only last night that Annabelle’s mother had died.’ His jaw tightened. ‘Actually, it happened almost two years ago, but I had no idea until I read about it in an official report.’ He sat up quickly.
She sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Oh, Andrew, I’m so terribly sorry. Of course, I know how you must be feeling, and—’
‘No, you don’t know, Victoria! You can’t possibly know!’ His harsh tone jolted her; a little nerve began to pull at one corner of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry – but she didn’t just die – Ishana committed suttee on her husband’s funeral pyre.’
For a few moments Victoria could only stare at him and shake her head. ‘But I – I thought that kind of thing didn’t happen any longer.’
‘Yes? Well, the British have tried to ban it in areas that are under our control, but very few of the old ways have changed in the princely states – like Gwalinpore.’ He clenched his jaw and turned his head.
She sat motionless. Her heart ached for him and, when he turned back to her, she saw the misery in his eyes.
‘They say, of course, that the act of committing suttee brings great honour to a woman – to her memory. Of course, they claim that no coercion is used on the lady, that she is given no drug, that she feels nothing but elation when she— But how could they—?’
He bowed his head and held it between his hands. ‘Victoria, what in God’s name will I tell my daughter when she’s old enough to ask about her mother? How can I ever explain that the beautiful lady who created her, the woman I adored, was Ishana – the raja’s favourite wife – and that she had thrown herself on to his funeral pyre to die in the flames? How can I tell her?’
Victoria felt her head spin. She stared at him wordlessly while her imagination tried to picture that scene of unspeakable horror; it forced her to take a number of deep breaths.
‘Let me ask you a question, Andrew,’ she said at last, quietly. ‘Why should Annabelle ever need to know the truth about the way her mother died?’
He swung to her sharply. ‘Because she’s going to ask me about her mother one day, so what must I do? Lie?’
‘Well, please look at it this way for a moment. You’ve taken your daughter away from her mother’s world where you say that such an unthinkable act is viewed with honour. Now Annabelle is growing up to look at the world through the eyes of a little English girl – a girl with a father who loves her dearly, a father who’s prepared to protect her by slaying every dragon that might come wandering across her path through life.’
‘Of course.’
‘In this instance, though, I think that knowing the truth about her mother’s death is likely to become a dragon of such monstrous proportions that not even the strongest and most loving father would be able to kill it. That monster could stalk a little English girl for the rest of her life. And perhaps devour her one day.’
His forehead creased and he scrubbed a hand across his chin. ‘So?’
‘So, perhaps, when she asks about her mother, you need to tell Annabelle only a few simple facts – construct a fairy-tale about how you and Ishana met and fell in love. Let your daughter know how dearly her mother treasured her beautiful baby, and how sad you were when Ishana became ill and died. That’s all Annabelle needs to know, Andrew. Just simplify the truth.’
He dropped back on to his elbow and broke off a long stalk of grass to twirl in his fingers before he looked up at her and shook his head slowly. ‘The truth, Victoria? Where do I begin? I don’t know how the truth could ever be simplified because this is a tale of India, remember?’
‘Very well. Tell me, and I’ll put aside my English ears.’
He gave her a half-smile. ‘In the first place, what was I doing in Gwalinpore? Well, our government might consider that princely state to be an unimportant, insignificant place, but it’s vital for us to keep on good terms with whoever is ruling there because it sits directly on the army’s swiftest route into Afghanistan.
‘There was another dynastic upheaval in Gwalinpore four years ago, and a lot of blood was spilt before a new raja – just a boy – was chosen to sit on the throne. I was given the wretched duty of transporting the British Government’s gift to the new Highness – a hideously ornate black marble clock decorated with gilded cherubs and draped in the Union Jack. It was to have been presented during the coronation ceremony.
‘Well, the palace officials were most impressed when they saw me arrive with it. They assumed that I must be the personal emissary of Queen Victoria and that she, herself, had placed the royal clock in my hands. That fable seemed to add a little more significance to my presence in the palace, so I didn’t disabuse them.’ He turned his gaze to the tips of his riding boots.
‘There was a huge crowd gathered in the great durbah hall for the coronation ceremony, but halfway through, an assassin threw a bomb. It killed the little raja, along with a lot of others, demolished Queen Victoria’s marble clock, and left me, her emissary, with wounds that took months to heal.’
‘Oh, Andrew! What about Ishana? Was she hurt?’
He looked at her in surprise. ‘Good lord, Victoria, she wasn’t there. The ladies of the palace never show themselves in public. They live totally secluded lives in the zenana – the women’s quarters – though there are passageways built in the walls for them to move about in certain areas and watch what’s going on from behind marble screens.’ His expression softened. ‘And sometimes there are doors concealed in the walls. That’s the way that Ishana came to my chamber to offer me comfort when I was hurt. And, dear God, how I needed it.’
Questions flew around in Victoria’s mind like bats in a cage, but she kept her lips tightly closed and continued to listen.
‘My legs were burned and useless, I’d lost my sight. Never in my life have I so longed for a quick death to release me from the pain, not to mention the fear that I’d be crippled and blind for life. Every day the healer came to my bed to treat my burns with his potions, and to pour his oil into my eyes.
‘And each morning he brought a fresh apology from the new raja, who happened to be an uncle of the dead boy, and was probably the one who’d orchestrated the assassination. It seemed, however, that the man who’d been given the job of throwing the bomb had mistimed it badly and, therefore, had brought great dishonour to their princely house by insulting Her Britannic Majesty. Not only had Gwalinpore destroyed Queen Victoria’s royal gift, but it had also nearly killed her personal emissary.
‘The new raja asked his auguries and soothsayers what offering could be made to restore the honour of Gwalinpore. And can you guess what the answer was?’ He flung the question at her as a challenge.
Her eyes looked straight into his. ‘Yes. I think he offered you the services of Ishana.’
Her frank answer surprised him. His tone changed. ‘She came to my room each day and provided me with the kind of comfort that makes a man want to live. I fell in love with her – desperately, and I knew that she truly loved me in return. What my arrogant English manhood couldn’t comprehend was that Ishana, the favourite wife of the new raja, wasn’t required to stop loving her husband in order to give me her love as passionately as she did.
‘It was a long time before my sight returned and I could walk unaided. By then I was utterly, madly in love with Ishana and I even dreamed of finding some miracle that would keep us together. Could she escape from the zenana? Would she ever be accepted into my English world?’ He looked at Victoria and slowly shook his head.
‘What I’m about to tell you, remember, could happen only in India: When Ishana informed her husband that she was carrying my child, he consulted his auguries, and their readings gave him the news that he most wanted to hear. The birth of this baby, they promised, would provide the means to remove the veil of dishonour from the face of Gwalinpore.’
Victoria frowned. ‘I think I’m becoming a little lost.’
‘Ishana’s husband came to me and confirmed that the baby was undoubtedly mine as he had not lain with her since he’d sent her to comfort me after I’d been wounded. An unusual situation, yes?’
‘Indeed!’
‘Now he hoped that I would accept Ishana’s child as a gift, and that this offering would serve to expunge the great dishonour earned by Gwalinpore when Her Britannic Majesty’s magnificent clock was destroyed. And her emissary almost killed. The baby was due to be born in five months’ time. Where did I wish it to be sent – along with its wet nurse and servants?’
Victoria’s jaw sagged. ‘The begum?’
He blew a long breath between his lips. ‘I’d had no contact with that lady for fifteen years – ever since my father’s affair with her had ended. But, amazingly, she remembered me, and I think she’s taken some pleasure in helping me keep my secret from him during the last three years. The initial arrangement we made was for her to take care of Annabelle for twelve months, or until I’d left the army and found a situation where I could raise a child. And here I am three years later, still floundering.’ He picked up a pebble and threw it into the gorge below.
‘I can’t impose on the begum for much longer, so perhaps I should present Annabelle to the ladies of the cantonment as a stray child that I found along the way—’
‘Hah!’ She could tell that he wasn’t being serious. ‘No, Andrew, nobody seeing you two together could doubt that Annabelle is yours. She definitely has your eyes.’ She raised one brow a fraction. ‘But how fortunate for her that she hasn’t inherited your nose.’
He gave a guffaw and rolled onto his back while the horses dozed and their riders gave no further thought to visiting any further sights this day. They stayed where they were on the edge of the ravine, growing increasingly easy in each other’s company, allowing their conversation to drift from one topic to another.
‘Time to eat?’ he asked at last and went to his saddle-bag for the egg sandwiches, the apricots and nuts, and flasks of lime juice that had been packed by the kitchen staff.
‘Here, you must be hungry,’ he said and settled beside her again.
She nodded and neither spoke while they ate. After she’d brushed the crumbs from her skirt, she gave a little sigh and stretched full length on the grass with her hands locked behind her head and her eyes closed. ‘Thank you, Andrew, that was perfect.’
He watched her and, with each passing moment, he could feel his emotional barricades crumbling. As a man who’d always lived much within himself, he couldn’t put a name to the sensation, but he knew that it was to do with her closeness. Again, it wasn’t purely the physical closeness.
‘Tell me about yourself, Andrew,’ she said, without moving or opening her eyes. ‘Tell me about India.’
With no particular starting point, he began to talk about the places he’d been stationed, some of the actions he’d taken part in, a few ironic incidents that made her chuckle, as well as his forlorn hope of transferring to the Guides. He spoke of friendships that had been forged amidst warm blood and cold steel, as well as the times of monumental boredom when friction between men was quick to erupt.
‘Tell me about the scar on your cheek. How did you get it?’
‘Can’t you guess?’
‘I think—’ She sat up and looked at him narrowly, making a play of puzzling over the answer. ‘Yes, either you were grazed by an enemy bullet during some heroic campaign up in the hills, or perhaps that wound was inflicted by the point of a duelling sword. Did a jealous husband catch you dallying with his wife and call you out?’
He gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Well, let there be no secrets between us, ma’am. There’s nothing heroic or noble about it, I can assure you. I got the scar brawling in a native bazaar when I was more than a little drunk and a pickpocket tried to make off with my money. I caught up with him and, while we were scuffling in the dust, he pulled a knife. But I got my purse back and probably left him with a few broken ribs. So what do you think of that?’
Her hazel-green eyes looked straight into his. ‘I think you’re a man who protects what is his, and in this instance you acted with appropriate boldness and determination. I’m sure the end justified the means. Isn’t that what your friends in the regiment would have said at the time?’
He felt physically winded by the feelings she was stirring in him. ‘Ah, yes, the regiment. It’s certainly a family that takes care of its own – at least it looks after its men. Wives are another matter, of course, and there are many ladies who can’t survive the constant loneliness of living on the periphery of the regiment.’ For a few moments he lapsed into a thoughtful silence.
‘That makes it easier to understand why the ladies out here have to keep themselves busy by arranging their tea parties and card parties – and occasionally having affairs with other men to put a little spice into life. After all, they have servants to do all the work, they’ve sent their children back to be educated in England, so, of course, they need their social activities to fill in the days until a husband’s home leave comes around every five years. Then they can escape from India for a few months – though some marriages can’t survive that long.
‘My own mother had enough after four years out here, and I can still remember watching her walking – no, running away from the house and driving off with some man. My father gave me a sound whipping when he found me crying for her to come back, so, as early as he could, he sent me off to a school that had a name for putting backbone into soft little boys. I think that the masters there did a first-rate job because I came back to India as a young man with lots of backbone and very little else inside him.’
She rolled onto her side and lifted herself onto her elbow. ‘You’re utterly wrong, Andrew. I’ve known you only a short time, but I can see so much to admire in your character. I know you to be a strong and honest man with a tender side that you try very hard not to reveal. Actually, I feel quite envious towards Annabelle for having a father like you. Did you never wish to marry some nice lady and—’
‘Marry? Frankly, no, Victoria.’ He grinned. ‘Perhaps that was due to the fact that, in the course of my life, I’ve known so very few nice ladies.’
She laughed aloud. ‘It’s not too late for you to change your ways, Captain. I’m sure that if Maud Pelham had still been alive, she’d have found a suitable marriage partner for you by this time.’
He pulled a long face and shook his head. ‘I must remember to send a prayer of thanks to whichever saint up there saved me from such a fate.’
She laughed again, then sat up and reached for her flask of juice. It was empty. ‘Oh, do you have any left, Andrew?’
‘Yes. Here, let me pour it into yours.’
‘It’s all right, I’ll just have a sip from that one.’
He unscrewed the top and passed his flask to her, then watched as she placed her lips where his had touched, then threw back her head and drained the last drops. His eyes followed the graceful line of her neck and the way she ran her tongue over her bottom lip as she replaced the cap. ‘Ah! How good that was.’
He felt his blood pumping faster, stirred by the playful intimacy that had grown between them during their time together today. Never before had he found someone like this to confide in. Someone he could permit to come close enough to see the void that was there behind the façade he displayed to the world.
She smiled at him, a smile warm with uncomplicated affection. His eyes drank her in. His throat tightened and he realized that this moment would be caught in time like a fly in amber, to stay with him forever.
Somehow, the day that had started off so miserably with the news of Ishana’s death had lost the edge of its savage pain. Today he had discovered someone who could provide him with a fixed point of emotional safety.
Being with Victoria Latham was like finding a lifeline.