Discovery of Desire (14 page)

“Mina is in fine looks tonight.”

Seth started at Tom's voice, and turned to find him holding out a glass of wine. “You're a damn puzzle, Tom, you know that?”

“Still in a pleasant mood, I see.” Tom drained his wine and started on the glass Seth refused. “When do you plan to forgive me? It's been two days.”

“I know it.”

“I told you why I can't marry her. Several times now, in fact.”

He shook his head and grumbled, “You could have married her. You earn a good living. You've got some sense. You're not out gambling or catching diseases or keeping a harem of women like some maharaja.”

Tom brooded into the distance. “I shouldn't expect you to understand. Hell, Mayhew, no man's going to be right enough for her, is he?”

Christ, he was getting turned around—because deep down he
did
understand Tom not being able to marry, not when he was in love with someone else. “Where've you been, anyway?”

“Asking after that Captain Ravenshaw. The Fishing Fleet had his credentials right, but I've not found one man that likes him. He sounds like a pompous ass from many accounts.”

“Could be sore feelings, couldn't it? Envy over his post?”

Tom wiped a weary hand over his face. “Yes, perhaps that's it. Didn't know how difficult finding a husband would be.”

“Wouldn't have been if you'd kept your end of the bargain,” he couldn't help grumbling.

Tom's jaw tightened. He set his empty glass down hard and turned on his heel. “I'm going to ask after that Block fellow.”

“Good,” Seth ground out. He wasn't ready to feel any charity for Tom. Might not be for a long time.

Seth tensed. The lady named Samantha was walking Captain Ravenshaw over to Mina to be introduced. The captain's red coat was real smart, crossed all over with gold braids and buttons, and his black boots were outfitted with brass spurs. And he had good, curling hair. Styled neat as Prince Albert's. For a pompous ass, he wasn't a bad-looking gent—

Wait, where were they going? The man was leading Mina out of the ballroom. That probably wasn't any of his business.

But it didn't take half a second to decide to follow anyway.

Mina hadn't let the captain take her far. They stood at the other end of the crowded hall. Seth edged closer and kept enough of a distance not to be noticed, but he heard them well enough.

“Chesterfield, you say? In the Midlands?” Ravenshaw laughed. “I've no idea. Where is that near? And tell me a town a man might know of.”

Seth gritted his teeth.
Pompous ass.

“Do you know Clay Cross or Bolsover, Captain Ravenshaw?” Mina asked.

Ravenshaw snickered and shook his head.

“Sheffield, then?”

“Yes, Sheffield, of course,” Ravenshaw said. “So smack in the middle, is it, then?”

“Yes.” Mina said in her soft, calm voice. “In the Midlands.”

Ravenshaw smiled, his eyes lingering on her breasts. “This is a lovely gown, Miss Adams.” He edged closer to her. “And you are lovely in it.”

“I… Thank you.”

“Shall we seek a
kala juggah
for ourselves?”

“What is that?”

He chuckled. “A useful addition to your vocabulary, I daresay. A
kala juggah
is a private place, arranged near assembly rooms for, well…
privacy
and sharing secrets, whatever is desired. And I should like us to be better acquainted.”

“Can we not become better acquainted here?”

“We really can't.”

Mina clutched the pocket of her skirt. “I should not leave my sister long.”

“Nonsense. A man and a woman cannot hope to know each other without more intimate conversation.” He traced her bare shoulder with a gloved finger and Mina, startled, stepped backward.

That was all Seth could stand. “
Excuse me
.” Seth didn't bother to subdue his voice and the ass ducked his head in alarm.

Ravenshaw popped straight back up. His brass spurs jangled as he pivoted, and the hand he propped on his hip sent his scabbard off-kilter. “What is it?” The captain didn't bother to subdue his voice, either.

Seth bristled at the tone and sized up the man. His hair was slick with pomade and the ends of his mustache were waxed into stiff needles. No, he wouldn't do at all.

And the bastard shouldn't have touched her.

An icy anger was flowing through his veins, so Seth turned his back on the stuffed uniform. “Minnie—Miss Adams, I've come to collect you.”

She blinked at his offered elbow, which hovered under her chin. “Collect me?”

Would she refuse to leave with him? She might at that, and it'd be damn awkward. Angry as he was, it was a relief when she took his arm.

“Of course, Mr. Mayhew,” she murmured.

Ravenshaw wedged his head between the two of them. “Hold your steam there, man. I was talking to her.”

He turned to growl, but Mina squeezed his arm. “Excuse me, Captain,” she said. “I'm afraid I forgot a previous engagement.”

Ravenshaw frowned, his mustache drooping. “A previous—?”

“Geography lessons, mate,” Seth grumbled, before staring down at Mina, who returned his look with a warning in her own as he led her back to the ballroom.

“Was there an actual reason you came to collect me?” she asked.

“Didn't like him.”

Mina sighed but said nothing.
Good.
She was in agreement, then.

She shifted her hold on his arm to walk closer. She didn't seem to notice she'd done it, and something in that little adjustment stopped the words he was preparing to spout about her wandering off with pompous asses.

Mad as he was, he shouldn't like that little touch so much. Shouldn't like that she had to reach a little to place her hand on his arm. Or like knowing he could protect her against men like Ravenshaw—or any man for that matter. For the next three days, at least.

Then she'd have to protect herself.

That thought stretched every one of his nerves. He secured her hand more fully about his arm, pulling her closer. Mina was so small. Her head barely reached his shoulder, and he could lift her with one hand if he had a mind to.

Even her skin was delicate, protected under all her bonnets. Would a man like Ravenshaw be mindful of how easy her skin would burn in India? Or how her rose scent would draw mosquitoes? Or how she had to be handled delicately, even if she was crisp, composed, and orderly-like? Maybe even more so because of it. Mina might have the bearing of an officer, but he knew she liked being reminded she was a woman.

She stopped at the edge of the ballroom. “We need to talk, Mr. Mayhew. Outside would be best.”

Outside?
Well…hell. She wasn't looking at him, and she didn't appear all that bothered. But then, Mina never looked bothered. That didn't mean she wasn't wanting to snap his head off.

They maneuvered through the crowded room onto the terrace, but the company here was as lively as the one inside. And that was no wonder, with the view. The stars shone and the ocean glinted under a full moon.

“Pretty night, isn't—” But there wasn't any air left to finish his words. By moonlight, Mina's skin gleamed like pearl, and her brown eyes were soft and liquid. They'd melted like that when they'd kissed.

Christ, she was a beauty. She'd be the perfect wife for any of these men—
You have the sign.

He was jostled from behind. Damn, they were never alone,
ever
.

“Mr. Mayhew, you cannot—”

“Not here,” he said hoarsely. And, before she could question him, he gripped her hand and led her past all the milling couples and down into the garden. In the corner of the landscape, a grove of banyan trees, with their low canopy, smothered the lamplight. Like a dark forest or a…a
kala juggah
.

Like a damn good idea.

“Mr. Mayhew—”

“
Seth
.”

“Where are we going?”

A couple sauntered by, but they were the only ones to pass. He and Mina would finally be alone. And he'd look into her eyes again. Maybe for the last time.

“I mustn't go far,” she said.

Mina's hand flexed in his—he must have squeezed it. He relaxed his grip and Mina stumbled, holding him tight now to keep her balance. Her head was down, watching the ground as she nearly ran beside him to stay abreast.

Christ
. He slowed his step. “Minnie—sorry. I'm sorry.”

Her pretty headdress slipped, and with her free hand, she fumbled with a pin to secure it. She glanced sharply behind her. “I shouldn't be this far from the others.”

A strange ache cramped his chest. He stopped and breathed deep. God, what was he doing? She couldn't do this, couldn't be seen with him like this.

“Are you listening to me, Mr. Mayhew?”

She never called him Seth. Not even now. Because Mina was sensible and kept her thoughts in a straight line. And she could turn all that common sense and straight thinking on him like the swing of an axe.

Or just the shutting of a door.

Mina wouldn't be led astray, not from the path of knowing what she had to do. It was damn stupid of him to take her from company, to want her alone, to…to
panic
seeing her with another man.

But he'd never been one to think in straight lines.

Even now, words and feelings and pictures of home and Mina, and Tom, and Georgie swelled and crashed like waves in his head, and he couldn't hold one still. They tumbled over each other and rolled away again.

“I'm listening. I'm sorry, Minnie.” He stood still, the two of them exposed in the middle of the garden. “Go on and say what you were wanting to say.” He squared his shoulders. “But the captain wasn't right for you, laughing at where we're from. Like
he
comes from better. And he wasn't respectful, with that talk of
intimate conversation
. And what was he wearing spurs for anyway?”

Mina's upturned face was beautiful and composed. As usual.

He
would
drive a woman like her to Bedlam. He'd forever be saying and doing the wrong thing, being out of pocket, embarrassing her. She deserved a man she didn't have to manage and apologize for. And Mina would've known that the instant they met.

The shame of that cooled his temper better than a dousing of ice water.

“This isn't proper, Mr. Mayhew.” She pulled her hand from his and he had to let her loose. But she curled her hand around his elbow, like a lady.

“I know it. So ye can give me your tidy doing off”—he cringed at his ignorant speech—“I mean, you can scold me here. If you're of a mind to.”

But Mina didn't say anything. And she suddenly looked different. Still like the little officer she was but…harder.

“There's some sort of summerhouse over there,” she said.

Within the cluster of trees, a faint structure took shape in the shadows. A walled gazebo, remote and secret. “I see it.”

“Is that where you planned to lead me?”

Miserable, he nodded. But Mina dropped her hand from his arm and marched toward the trees.

“Minnie?” Now what? He started after her, ducking a little like that would help his oversize carcass not be seen. “Minnie?”

She kept walking.

“Minnie, no,” he hissed. “It's not respectable.”

“You had no fear of ruining my reputation pulling me across the lawn.”

“But—”

“And you are hardly a rogue, Mr. Mayhew, much as you would like to pretend.”

Was that supposed to be some kind of compliment?

“And it appears I need to make something clear to you, so while no one is looking, please put on some haste.” She walked faster and disappeared into the summerhouse.

Well…
hell
. He scanned the lawn behind him—she was right; nobody seemed to be watching—and ran to duck in after her.

The room was a small octagon, the walls patched with panes of colored glass and pierced with carved openings that streamed the garden light into the dim room in delicate shapes and jeweled shards. She faced him with her shoulders back and chin high. Little diamonds of emerald and gold light played on the mounds of her breasts, which he was trying hard not to look at—and failing.

This wasn't romantic. It
wasn't
.

“Mr. Mayhew, I appreciate your wanting to help me, but you mustn't interfere again.”

Mr. Mayhew.
Like she didn't even know him. “You didn't like that Ravenshaw, either.”

“That is not the point. I must marry.”

“I know it. But you don't have to marry the first gent that offers. You can choose. That one wasn't even soldierlike
or
a gentleman. And what about liking the look of the man? Are you even partial to dark hair? Or side-whiskers?”

“His appearance is of no importance.”

“You can't want to marry an ugly man.”

“Not every man is handsome.”

“I want you feeling something for your husband, Minnie.”

She threw her hands up and huffed an odd, squeaky sound, and he stared in surprise. He didn't know she did that. But if that was all the vexation he caused, maybe that wasn't so bad, was it?

Her hands dropped back to her sides, but they were clenched into fists and her eyes were closed. “I know you are trying to help,” she said. “But love is not my concern.”

His heart sank. She sounded like she meant that.

“You must devote your attention to helping Georgiana. She needs you.”

“And you're saying you don't.”

She opened her eyes, and looked at him without a word.

No, she didn't need him. And she was right not to, but knowing she was right didn't make it hurt any less. He rubbed his eyes, careful to catch the wetness there. “You think that Captain will do? Or that Henry Block?”