Discovery of Desire (6 page)

“You have land in Derbyshire?”

Her eyes grew huge and he felt damn near ten feet tall. So he wouldn't tell her the bit about how Old Man Hartwig had said the hedgerows were dead and the cottage roof would fall in so it was good Seth had a head like a rock. But Hartwig was just a cranky, old pinch-fart.

And he wouldn't tell her the rest of it. How even though he'd sold the prize orchid for all that acreage, he couldn't afford to make the repairs to all the buildings that stood on that land.

But Seth wouldn't call that a curse. Because if he did, that meant he was doomed to fail in this expedition, too.

And that meant he wouldn't find Georgie alive.

He shook his mind free of that hellish thought. “And it's, uh…it's got a handsome stone cottage, too. It needs mending, though, and a hedgerow that's not been trimmed since the Romans, but I'll be fixing it up. Eventually—
soon
. Real soon.”

She nodded quickly. “A home needs all sorts of maintenance. I tended my family's garden. I would so enjoy that employment again.”

He grinned and waited for her to continue. But she wasn't saying anything. He shifted his weight. And shifted back. And her smile was…
encouraging
?

Did she
want
him to talk more?

Well.

He cleared his throat. “I've a plan on that cottage, of course. My Wilhelmina orchid was described and sold, straightaway, but I found lots more prizes than that. Had them in seed, though. Some of the prettiest flowers you'll ever see, and lots of practical plants, too. My best mates have those in England; they're looking after them for me. They're plantsmen, cultivators.

“I had over a dozen orchids that I shipped, too, but I'm not sure if they're new discoveries. But if they are, and they sell for a good amount, I'll have the money to fix up all my outbuildings, the stable and washhouse and granary.”

He paused, checking her eyes for glazing or puzzlement. He grinned when he saw neither. “And if those seeds are viable, I'll be able to marry, too. And keep a family.”

“That sounds really perfect, Mr. Mayhew.”

And the way she said it, he believed she meant it. Would Mina have herself a little garden here? “It does, doesn't it?” he murmured.

“And your land? What is it like?”

He smiled, seeing that landscape in his head. “There's a stream that flows right through this flat valley and into a grove of birch that might be out of a painting. And the grass all around it—green and soft and cool, like it was begging you to take off your boots and sit down for a picnic.”

“Is there a footbridge? My favorite walk was across the Hipper River and there was a bridge of stepping stones across the water.”

“Stepping stones, eh?” For the first time in his knowing her, Mina's face went all soft and wistful and he wasn't about to disappoint her. “I'll build one just because you said it.”

She blushed deep. Maybe Miss Mina liked his compliments, after all.

And didn't he like looking at that face? Maybe because she seemed to like what she was seeing, too. Even if he wasn't a gentleman. He could almost pretend there was something there that wouldn't mind kissing him.

Damn…

“Why is it we never rubbed shoulders till we found ourselves here?” he said.

“Fate, I suppose,” she said softly.

Fate
. He never had any use for it.

Georgie's face looked at him from her missing poster. “I had a thought to go over and introduce myself to your friends.”

That worried look sprang to Mina's face again.

“But Tom tells me it's not done,” he said.

“You mustn't think they don't want to help. It is just that they're aware a man like you will distract them.”

“I didn't plan on any distracting.” Mina's face was getting that peach blush again, which was distracting enough.

“No, of course you don't. But they are here to meet potential husbands.”

“I know it.” A bit of lace peeked from her sleeve and he tapped it. “What's this, Miss Mina?”

She pulled it out and gave it to him. “A handkerchief. It is only that—”

“Did you stitch these little flowers?”

“I did, yes. But the women—”

“Bluebells, right?”

“Yes. Only that you could sway the ladies from their purpose if—oh, thank you”—she took back her handkerchief—“well, I think you understand what I'm trying to say.”

She'd stopped talking, and when he looked up, her brown eyes were scanning his.

“Mr. Mayhew?”

So damn pretty. He grinned. “I'm listening, Miss Mina.”

She squared herself in front of him as if she wanted to wrangle his full attention. She had it, but he didn't mind her placing herself just so.

“It is just that you mustn't distract them with your masculine wiles.”

The hell?
He roared with laughter—something he'd not done in longer than he could remember. “My wiles, is it? No one's accused me of such before. I thank you. What wiles might those be? My frog brain?”

“Your brain is fine.”

She sounded almost angry, and it made him like her all the more.

“You possess many attractions,” she said.

“Attractions?” He rubbed his jaw, damn curious what Mina would say. “What might those be?”

“Well…” Her gaze drifted to his…chest? Belt? Shoes?

“You possess a very handsome form,” she said so low he had to bend his head to hear.

Handsome? He looked down at himself. And it was a long way down. Hulking, maybe. “You don't mean my constitution? Or something in the way of stamina?”

A question flickered in her eyes before she blinked it away. “I…I don't wish to speak of stamina, Mr. Mayhew.”

Now she wasn't looking at him at all. “Why don't you call me Seth?”

That worked. She looked at him over her burning cheeks. “I don't think—”

“And I'll call you Minnie.”

She blinked. “My friends call me Mina.”

“Am I your friend?”

“I don't know. Aren't you?”

“Not sure,” he said. “Who calls you Minnie, then?”

“No one.”

He grinned. “Good.”

She started to speak, then looked to be weighing his request—just like a lady would, just to be nice and polite.

“
Minnie
makes me sound small,” she said.

“I know it. But I could carry you around in my pocket, couldn't I?” He crossed his arms and winked.

“Stop that, Mr. Mayhew. That is seven times now.”

He didn't know what she was saying there. He shook his head, chuckling. “I don't know about wiles, Minnie—”

“
Mina
. Or Wilhelmina, or—”

“I don't know any other way to talk to women except with a little teasing. It might do me a harm to try. Georgie always said I was the Worst Flirt in the Midlands.”

Whatever he said seemed to sober her, and she dropped her gaze. “Yes.” She threaded her hand around his arm. “Shall we return to Thomas?”

Disappointment swept over him, but he stood straighter anyway. It was a rare thing to escort a lady anyplace. Even if it was only across a room. “So, Miss Mina, as I'm not proper, will you speak for me?”

“You're not improper, just distracting.” She shook her head a little. “I've offended your feelings—I'm sorry. You and your wiles are blameless, so you mustn't be uncomfortable if the ladies imagine you an object of attraction.”

An object of attraction…?
He considered that. “No. I've no objection to that.”

She shot him a confused look, and his heart softened seeing the peach tips of her ears. The woman could blush there, too. But she'd not answered his question. “So would you? Speak for me?”

She raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye. His little officer again. “I will do everything I can to help you.”

Ah…damn. He
was
a little in love with her.

Someday, he might meet another lady as fine as her who wouldn't mind marrying him. A lady who'd be such a credit to him that people would think twice about seeing him as just a laboring man. And they'd live in a house with a library full of books she'd probably already read, and a pianoforte their children knew how to play. Someday. If he wasn't cursed.

She shied from his gaze and looked into the conservatory. At Tom.

She pulled her hand from his arm. “I understand you and Thomas were invited to the picnic and snipe hunt tomorrow at Vehar Lake.”

“I heard that, but it's not likely we'll attend with all there is to do.”

“Could you both come along after your work is done? I had hoped to see Thomas.”

He huffed a surprised laugh. “You do speak plain, Minnie.” And damn if it didn't hurt his feelings. “Tom and me, we have telegrams to send, and plans to make, and that Mr. Fallon to meet.”

“The carriages do not leave until eleven.” She planted herself square in front of him again, her head tilted back to look straight at him, and he was caught by those big, brown eyes. “Please, Mr. Mayhew?”

Well…
hell
.

“The hunt would not be a bad use of your time,” she said. “If you spend the forenoon on your planning and letters, the rest of the day could be employed reminding others of your search.”

Seth bit back a sigh. Mina was making sense. It wasn't as if he could go haring off to all the corners of Asia without information. Patient, polite, proper channels, and all that.

“That sounds real fine, Minnie.” And it
would
be fine. It was going to have to be.

“And you'll bring Thomas?” she asked.

“I'm thinking Tom will want to be anywhere you're at.”

“Do you think so?”

Her eyes were shiny with hope and he raked a hand through his hair. Damn awkward. She needed Tom for marrying and Seth needed him to find Georgie—anywhere that might be. Once time came to travel, nothing would stop him from taking Tom with him. Away from Mina.

There wasn't but one solution he could think of: Tom had to wed her.

So he'd better do it damn soon.

“Do I persuade you I am a great hunter?” Thomas said by way of greeting, posing beside the carriage that would take them to Lake Vehar. “On yet another
shikar
for rampaging beasts? Which I find only mildly amusing, of course.”

Mina smiled, examining his sporting ensemble from his pith helmet to his boots to his holstered knife. “Good afternoon, Thomas. And yes, you do look the proficient.”

“Ah, good, as I've only ever hunted quail.
And
I'm a sorry marksman.”

Emma poked the handle of his blade with a frown. “Truly, I'm going on an Indian
shikar
. I suppose the drive will allow me to see something of the countryside so the day will not be a complete waste.”

“A waste?” Thomas asked.

“No one in the family shoots,” Mina explained. “Emma is particularly averse.”

“Ah.” Thomas handed his gear to his servant. “Killing God's creatures is a favorite pastime among Company men. Unfortunately for them, snipe is on offer today. Frightfully hard to hit; they fly in a corkscrew pattern when flushed. There'll be a great number of sullen men at the end of the day.”

“I hope you're right,” Emma said.

Thomas chuckled. His mood seemed much improved from yesterday. Already the conversation was easier. Perhaps she had been anxious for no reason. Thomas had sent for a wife—she was assured he wanted one.

Whether he wanted her was yet to be determined.

At the least, this second day together provided a facade of familiarity. She had no talent for rapid rapport, a necessary skill in women exported for marriage. Four friends had accepted offers after their first interviews yesterday. And those from perfect strangers.

“Has Colin Rivers sent word?” Thomas asked.

Emma huffed a breath. “No. Not a word, note, or telegram.”

Thomas frowned in sympathy. “I'm sure he is desperate to get here. Shouldn't be much longer. Laxman?” Thomas called to his bearer, who was climbing down from the carriage. “Where is Mr. Mayhew?”

“I believe he is en route,
sahib
,” Laxman said. “I certainly did see him buy food from the bazaar.”

“Are you sure that was him?” Thomas asked.

Laxman bowed his head. “Mr. Mayhew is not easy to mistake,
sahib
.”

“I'm so glad you and Mr. Mayhew were able to join us,” Mina said.

“He won't be if he's late.” Thomas scanned the street. “But I'm hopeful this may be a productive afternoon. The men may be more amenable to helping Mayhew if meeting him on the hunting field. But then”—he frowned at a thought—“they'll all have their shotguns.”

“I think it wonderful that you are helping him,” Emma said. “Is there any news of his sister?”

“Not yet,” Thomas said.

“Mina is helping, too,” Emma said before Mina could warn her to silence. “Our friend Julia is engaged to a political agent in West Bengal and he is very keen to inquire. He promised he would. And Edith's gentleman, also. Mina has secured so many promises of help that we're sure to—”

“We mustn't raise hopes, Emma,” she said.

Thomas met her eye for an instant but his look was unreadable. “I'm sure we are grateful for the aid.”

With those cool words, Mina's doubts returned. Should she not have extended herself on Mr. Mayhew's behalf? Any woman, any
person
, would be sympathetic, wouldn't they? “It was the work of a moment, really.”

“Yes, well,” Thomas murmured. “Your friends may do far better than us.” He opened the door of the carriage, one of a dozen waiting outside Benson's Hotel to carry the venture girls the short distance to the lake. “Ladies?”

Mina could think of nothing to say, so she took his hand silently as he handed her into the carriage. But he didn't join her, continuing to wait on the pavement for Mr. Mayhew.

In the dim carriage, she took a steadying breath. Helping Mr. Mayhew might have been a mistake. Did Thomas think her distracted by the explorer? Did he doubt her regard? Was Thomas waiting for her to somehow encourage his offer, or was she free to just…
accept
an unspoken one? And with Colin Rivers delayed, should she commit to him at all?

Or was she driving herself mad for no reason?

“That's quite a blade, Tom.” Mr. Mayhew's deep, laughing voice sounded from outside the carriage. “I thought this was a snipe hunt. You expecting to wrestle a panther?”

“All right, all right,” Thomas said. “I have no need of the knife. But it rather completes the outfit.”

“Should I grab my poleax in case we encounter a flock of pigeon?”

“You're late,” Thomas said, climbing into the carriage.

“I know it.” Mr. Mayhew appeared framed in the door of the carriage wearing a safari hat. “But only by a minute. I couldn't inconvenience these pretty women. Good afternoon, ladies.”

The brim shaded his eyes so all Mina could see was his hard jaw and the tilted smile of his lips… She had not really noticed the shape of his lips before. They were fuller than she realized. A mouth built to smile and taste. And talk, too, she supposed. He stretched his thick arms overhead to lean against the carriage door's lintel, and his powerful chest tapered dramatically to lean hips and a trim, flat stomach.

Oh dear. He
was
distracting.

Emma must have been similarly affected. She sighed. And rather lengthily. “We weren't waiting. Perhaps a moment, but that is not any wait at all. I mean, it's quite all right, Mr. Mayhew.”

Mina smiled with real amusement. But really, a woman would have to be blind not to be attracted. And deaf. And she could not touch any part of Mr. Mayhew, not with those muscles. Yes, she'd have to be altogether insensible. Perhaps dead.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mayhew,” she said.

Mr. Mayhew pushed back his hat and his sea-green eyes latched on hers and—drat him—that triggered a strange quiver in the pit of her stomach. He smiled the slowest, loveliest smile.

And then, of course, he winked at her.

She turned to look out the window, and then stupidly hurried to pull back the curtain a moment later. She had never been so affected by a man. And the timing was truly terrible.

He wasn't entering the carriage. A small hope lit within her. Perhaps he had changed his mind; perhaps he wouldn't come?

“Ladies, if you'll excuse me.” Mr. Mayhew stepped back from the carriage. “I thought I might ride up on the box, get a view of the city.”

“
Nooo
, Mr. Mayhew.” Emma leaned forward in her seat. “You must not deprive us of your company.”

“It pains me to refuse a pretty woman, but I don't think I can listen to Tom hold forth on all his rousing tales of chicken hunts.”

“
Quail
.” Thomas shook his head but he was grinning. Perhaps the men were becoming friends after all.

Mr. Mayhew's eyes glanced off Mina's before he pulled his hat brim low and closed the door. What was that look? Why would he not ride inside—?

Oh. He didn't wish to intrude on her time with Thomas.

Oh!
And after she had forestalled their work today. Without Thomas, how much would he accomplish? There were scores of Company men to ingratiate himself with today. To be seen arriving on the box would be embarrassing. Was she that callous to his situation? And to wish him away…

“Mr. Mayhew?” she called.

He stopped, his hand on the door. “Yes, Miss Mina?”

Thomas sat still and watchful, but she pressed on. It was only right and sensible. Besides, the faster she proved her impartiality to handsome explorers, the better. “Won't you join us?” she said as lightly as she could. “The box will not be comfortable.”

He searched her face. “No, I—”

“Get in, Mayhew.” Thomas slid over. “There's room enough. Even for you.”

He hesitated a moment, then doffed his hat, the carriage tipping as he climbed in. Mina angled her knees to the side to avoid his long legs, and he smiled in apology. Which was adorable.

She frowned hard at the thought.
Fine
. She was attracted—that hardly mattered in her circumstances. She could sit here and converse like the sensible woman she had been all her four and twenty years, and he would soon be persuaded that his winks and wiles and flattery were wasted on a woman like her.

Perhaps he was already done flirting with her. “And how was your morning, Mr. Mayhew?”

“Full of smiles knowing I'd be seeing you, Miss Mina.”

No, he wasn't done. “Well, I… Thank you. And productive too, I hope?”

“We sent telegrams to the Calcutta and Delhi offices, and a couple letters back to England in case Georgie was trying to reach me. And here's a stroke of luck—Tom's mate, Mr. Walpole, will be at the hunt—”

“Not really a mate—” Thomas said.

“—so that's a door opened. There's no knowing how many gents Tom will be introducing me to today. Right, Tom?”

“
One
gent,” Thomas said. “I know one.”

“The men will be curious over you,” she said. “And inclined to be friendly, I think.”

“That's what I'm hoping, Miss Mina.”

The carriage jerked to a start and she aimed her gaze out the window. Mr. Mayhew looked out at the same view and somehow even that felt intimate. She turned toward Thomas. “How often do you travel outside of Saharanpur, Thomas?”

“In the past year, once.”

“And where did you go?”

Thomas looked confused by the question. “Oh,
here
. Bombay's my only trip this year. The year before—no, it's nearly two years now, I trekked a bit west, deeper into the Punjab, but was struck by a mild bout of dysentery. Might have been a parasite. But by and by, I returned to the plantation and the
babu
sorted me out in a few months.”

Months?

Emma leaned forward, her eyes wide. “I understand most English outside of the cities contract malaria within the first months, often in the first weeks.” Her eyes widened. “Or the cholera or typhoid or dengue or blackwater fever or—”

“And what is a
babu,
Thomas?” Mina asked, squeezing Emma's hand.

“A doctor.”

She smiled. “Oh.”

“
Of sorts
.” Thomas tipped his head, thinking. “He's not so much a doctor as a…
medic
…or
therapeutist
?”

Her smile slipped. “Oh,” she said more quietly. She sat back in her seat. Mr. Mayhew watched her so she busied herself with smoothing her skirt.

Thomas opened the window curtain wide and sighed. “A fine day.”

“Yes.” She faced Thomas—but he faced the window.

She held Emma's hand tight and tried not to worry over the fact there was not yet a ring on either of their fingers. She had to be patient. Thomas was a gentleman and would not rush an intimacy between them that would be unnatural. And yet…

And yet he seemed to have no more feeling for her than she did for him.

“You have a kitchen garden up there, Tom?” Mr. Mayhew asked.

The question surprised her. Mr. Mayhew had been oddly quiet. Even now, his brooding stare was aimed at her lap.

“A kitchen garden?” Thomas asked. “Yes, the plantation is home to over three hundred men and their families so there's a rather large one.”

“What did you grow in your garden, Miss Mina?” Mr. Mayhew didn't raise his head. “Potatoes? Turnips? Did you grow any flowers?”

“My garden? Yes, all that, and oats and onions and my mother's peas and—” Her voice broke with some surprise emotion and she dropped her eyes.

What was the matter with her?
Hot tears blurred the sight of her lap. And no one was saying anything—

“You grow English vegetables up there, don't you, Tom?” Mr. Mayhew's voice was loud and gruff in the close space.

“We do,” Thomas answered quickly. “Indeed. Many, uh, many of the same.”

“Good,” Mr. Mayhew said. “And probably a fair number of plants the ladies wouldn't know of. I had my first Bengal quince yesterday. Looks like a grapefruit on the outside, but it doesn't eat like one.”

Thomas's gaze was heavy on her, so she blinked the moisture from her eyes and raised her head. “A Bengal quince? I shall have to try one.” She could barely hold Mr. Mayhew's gaze, as deeply as he looked into her eyes. But at last, he gave her a small smile.

Thomas sat forward in his seat. “I will find you one tomorrow, Mina. I did not wish to bombard your stomach with too much of the exotic. Unlike Mayhew here, who fears no food.”

“Have to sample what I can, when I can,” he said.

“Indeed, Mr. Mayhew,” Emma said. “Once you find your sister and quit India for good, you will find nothing so novel in your garden.”

“No, likely not,” Mr. Mayhew said. “But when I'm back in Matlock, I'll be well content imagining the Adams girls of Chesterfield tending to their eastern gardens.”

“An eastern garden,” Mina murmured. “I should like one, I think. What would I grow in it?”

Mr. Mayhew leaned back against the squabs, his eyes not leaving hers, and said quietly, “Anything you want, Miss Mina.”

His eyes crinkled, and it struck her they would always do so. In happiness and sorrow, and even compassion, like now. Lulled by that gaze, she remembered what was true: She was in India and she would stay here. And she would
live
here.

But she could have a garden again.

She smiled her thanks to him, and he winked at her. She took a bracing breath of air scented by the sea, and everything was clear. She was here forever, as was Thomas. And they could make a life of respect and civility toward one another. Because it wasn't love that mattered.