Discovery of Desire (12 page)

He grinned. “If I can.” He pulled her hand through his arm and they started to walk.

Carriages clattered up and down the street. The sun was different here, the air salted, the blue of the sky, the clouds…all different. The Hindustani letters challenged her eyes to comprehend even as the English translation tracked alongside them.

“You won't ever feel like you belong here, Minnie.”

His words stabbed her. Was she so easy to read? She looked at him and he gave her a sad smile.

“You'll make some friends,” he said. “They may even love you like family, but a part of you will always be back in Chesterfield, just like a part of me will always be back in Matlock and a little bit of me is back in Brazil. You travel enough, you leave pieces behind everywhere you go.” He looked at her. “I'll be leaving quite a bit with you, I wager.” He smiled, his eyes roaming her face. “I suppose there's only one place in all the world where you leave your whole heart.” He squeezed her hand and gave her a wink.

And suddenly she was afraid she didn't know where her heart was.

They entered a large square, with market stalls all around selling all kinds of goods.
This must be the Crawford Market near the native town.
But there were English ladies and their servants all around, wearing the same sun hats as hers. But she wasn't the same as them. Those women were married. Safe.

A cold sweat formed on her back. Under the sun, her skin prickled with cold.
Thomas will not marry me… He really will not marry me.

“Mary,” she whispered.

Mr. Mayhew dipped his head. “What's that?”

She looked at him, confused. Then realized she must have spoken aloud. He watched her carefully, but she could not tell him of Bethnal Green. The children left to starve. Or sold to baby farmers. The whores, and the drunkards and thieves. And Mary and Sebastian living in all that.

And Mary selling herself.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. Desperate not to remember that now, she moved to a stall of painted pottery. Most were in vibrant red and gold but one serving platter had a pattern of thistle and vines that was masterfully rendered. Mina traced the design with a light finger. “This is beautiful. It feels like home somehow, doesn't it?”

Seth picked up the platter, studying it. “Looks like the thistle we had in the county, remember? I used to practice sketching them. Georgie always trailed after me, wanting to draw them, too. Wanting to make them pretty. I told her pretty wasn't important in science. If you draw true, then pretty works itself out.” He frowned. “And she had a talent for drawing truer than I'd ever seen.”

“She's more than an illustrator, then.”

He returned the platter to the table. “She's an artist. A good one. I never thought…”

“What?”

“I never thought it would lead her here, get her lost. I never would've let her pick up a pencil.”

His voice had never sounded so devoid of life. “That isn't your fault.”

“Our da left us when Georgie was seven. She must've been thinking I might do for a replacement. She needed a father—no matter how poor a substitute she was getting in me.”

“I'm sure you were a loving brother.”

He shrugged tightly. “I left her, too. I was eighteen. Wasn't any work except the lead mine. I was too big to work in the mill. And I had a chance to sail to Brazil. It wasn't all that profitable—not for me, anyway. East India took most of it—but I was able to send Mum and Georgie a little. Mum was at the mill until she passed of the black lung.”

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “How old was Georgiana?”

“Eighteen. And all alone because I was so far from home.” He took a deep breath. “Everybody's got to bear troubles, eat their own peck of dirt, make peace with losing and loss. Adapt, I suppose. Georgie and I were good at adapting by then, so maybe leaving England didn't hold all that much fear for either us. A bit unnatural for a girl. I never thought she'd ever leave England, though.”

Her heart sunk heavy in her chest. She wanted to hold him, but she didn't dare, so she hugged his arm. “You're going to find her.”

Mr. Mayhew smiled down at her, but the corners of his mouth were tight. “I will, Minnie. I'm sailing with that current now, aren't I? Leading me to Calcutta and the Milford crew.”

She forced a smile and nodded.

“But we're with you five days, Tom and me,” he said. “And our aim is to find you the best bachelor in all of India. A man worthy of you. We'll even find a gent for Emma since this Colin Rivers hasn't come up to the scratch.”

Colin Rivers, and now Thomas. And Mr. Mayhew thought he would find them both husbands in five days.

“We'll find you a decent man,” he said so softly he might have been speaking to himself. “We'll find a man who's ready to provide for you and your children. Who'll never leave you or let you go hungry.”

His jaw was firm. He truly believed that.

What did it matter, so long as she knew the truth? Men liked to pretend to be in control and strong and capable. They pretended, and all the while they denied women the right to earn their own livings. Except in the basest, most degrading ways. Like Mary.

And like herself and Emma, exporting themselves to India for this bizarre bridal market. Society was perverse and unnatural, but there was no changing it. She may as well try to change the tide.

Men liked to pretend. Even with his kind heart and good intentions, Mr. Mayhew did not have the right of it. He raged at the chaining of the lion.

But it was the lioness that fed the pride.

They arrived at the hotel and she withdrew her arm from his. But before he could open the door to the lobby for her, she put a hand on his arm. “Mr. Mayhew, thank you for offering to find me a husband but I don't need your help.”

“Minnie—”

“And I don't want it,” she said as clearly as she could. “Go to Calcutta with Thomas, and find Georgiana. I have to find a husband, Mr. Mayhew. And I'm afraid all you would be…is a distraction.”

He stared at her but said nothing as she slipped into the hotel.

There were few sights in the world that should have pleased Seth more than the circle of fine, tea-drinking ladies in the lobby of Benson's Hotel—mainly because he was the lone male within forty paces.

But there was one little officer who wouldn't welcome the infiltration of their ranks. And she was the only one he was infiltrating for.

She'd called him a distraction.

Well. Fine, then. She'd been distracting him plenty, too. But he'd been grateful to focus on a task before setting off to meet Georgie's crew in Calcutta. A man ought to be able to hold more than one thought in his head without it turning him in circles.

He pulled out his paper with the names of possible husbands for Mina and pulled down the hem of his coat. Only four days left, but he'd made good progress yesterday. He'd been eager to share his list, but Mina hadn't been in her rooms yesterday evening. Should he try talking to her now? With all the venture girls about her? Would he shame her?

He sidled nearer. The ladies were all so fine. Their backs didn't even touch their chairs. Probably discussing lady matters like frocks and blends of tea and fripperies like ribbons.

“There would be no annuity upon his death, only a hardship grant of forty pounds,” a lady in a sky-blue dress said to Mina. “So I think not, Mina. Did you call on Mrs. Mayne,
and
did she receive you?”

Mina nodded. “The second day. After calling upon Mrs. Chester.”

“Excellent,” another lady said. “And did you leave another card at Government House?”

“I did not.”

The ladies fell silent, their faces wrinkling in deliberation. Mina's head swiveled from one lady to the next. “Should I have done? Is it too late?”

“The matter is not irreparable but a call should be made this afternoon. Mr. Oswald is yet unattached. Samantha, what were Mr. Oswald's credentials again?”

A lady—evidently Samantha—snapped open her notebook, thumbing through the pages. “Richard Oswald or Henry Oswald?”

“Richard.”

Samantha flipped the page. “Oswald, Richard. Born in East London. Age thirty years. Four hundred eighty a year. Currently sharing a residence in the city with two servants. His health seems excellent and prospects in the company—” She frowned. “He was not advanced last year.”

A disapproving silence settled upon them. Mina sighed. “He does not seem eligible, then?”

Samantha patted Mina's hand. “There are others—”

The ladies cut off as Seth took a tentative step forward. He smiled and, thank God, the ladies smiled back. They normally did, but his confidence had been knocked around of late.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mayhew.” Mina wasn't out-and-out smiling, but she'd never embarrass him.

“Good afternoon, Min—Miss Adams.” He nodded at the ladies. “Ladies. I don't mean to interrupt.” Well…propriety be damned. “I was hoping I might sit?”

Mina blinked but gestured to a chair. “Certainly, Mr. Mayhew.”

A smiling woman reached for the tea tray. “We were taking our tea. Will you have a cup?”

He nodded and eased his weight onto the delicate chair. This was a country for flimsy furniture. “Yes, please. I'd be much obliged.” The teacup didn't fit his hand all that well, either, but he pretended taking tea with ladies was a common enough occurrence. He crossed his leg, then uncrossed it. “I should introduce myself. I'm Seth—”

“Yes.” The tea pourer smiled. “We know who you are, Mr. Mayhew.”

Right. 'Course they would. He cleared his throat. “I couldn't help but overhear your talk of that Oswald gent. In fact, I had some ideas of my own. Of eligible men for Miss Mina.”

The ladies turned to look at one another, then settled back in their seats. Mina's blush worried him, but it was too late to stop now.

“By all means, Mr. Mayhew,” one lady said. “Do share.”

They smiled at him like a child reciting his letters. “Well…there's Mr. Clevenger. He's a learned man, with the East India College. He seems—”

The ladies flipped open their little notebooks, cutting him off. They were shaking their heads.

“Mr. Clevenger was denied a transfer to Delhi,” one lady murmured.

“He suffers from recurring gout,” another said.

“I heard it was dropsy of the lungs,” said another.

The blond tsked. “He does not even keep a horse.”

“And yet overfond of the races, I understand,” another said.

All the ladies heads rose in unison to face him. Seth checked his notes again. “Uh…I thought the Clevenger gent applied to return to England?”

A woman to his right checked her book. “Yes, in…October. The application was denied last week.”

He blinked, reading the woman's log over her shoulder.

“It's fine, Mr. Mayhew.” Mina smiled at him. “Really, you mustn't trouble yourself.”

“Er…well.” He reached into his pocket and unfolded his notes. “There's a man by the name of Wharton—”

Heads dropped. Notebook pages flipped. One lady found him fast. “Wharton, Richard. Six hundred a year.”

A chorus of considering mumbles at this promising fact until…

“No. He has three children with a local woman.”

The ladies shook their heads. One pressed her lips thin. “That will not do. Carrying the cost of two households.”

The women looked at him for the next name.

“Well, uh.” He gulped his tea. “I met an officer by the name of Thomas Tilden?”

“Thomas Tilden of the Forty-Ninth Native Infantry? Or of the Ninth Lancers? Tilden of the NI is in his thirties, the other in his forties.”

He didn't know with a certainty. He should've asked. But the ladies—save for Mina, who was smiling with sympathy—were waiting. “The Lancers, I think. A stout man. Looks real smart in his colors.”

A blond lady didn't even need to consult her notebook. “Tilden of the Lancers. It is rumored he is not sound.”

“Not sound?” he asked.

A silence descended. A little brunette leaned forward, her mouselike voice lowered to a discreet whisper. “Physically, Mr. Mayhew. He applied for the invalid list last month. A
French
sort of affliction.”

Oh God. The man had the pox? And he'd chosen him for Minnie?

“Thank you for your suggestions, Mr. Mayhew.” Mina moved to sit beside him, opening a notebook across their laps. “They're all very good thoughts. But the ladies have put forward other names.”

Mina unfurled a sheet of foolscap that stretched over both their laps. There was a grid.

“We think Henry Block in the Bengal Civil Service is a most promising gentleman. He is well positioned for advancement and is recently widowed, which explains his availability.” She pointed to another row. “And in the same province, Captain Ravenshaw is in command of a Native Infantry regiment and his commanding officer is Samantha's future father-in-law, who assures her he is a man of great expectations.”

“And he is handsome as well,” the tea pourer added.

“Oh yes, terribly handsome,” another lady said.

Jealousy flooded him, but he relaxed the scowl on his lips and nodded.

Mina folded up her bachelor chart. “If those men will do for Emma and me, then we will reside in the same province. Do you think they sound acceptable, Mr. Mayhew?”

Seth shrugged. “Have you not met them?”

“No.”

“Are they going back to England?” he asked.

“No.”

“But—”

“There is an assembly at Government House this evening, which I hope to secure an invitation to. Though I failed to deliver my calling card upon arrival. If I do so this afternoon, I may yet be accepted.”

“You will, Mina,” the blond assured her. “And you must remember all we've told you to gain the gentlemen's notice.”

“Gain their notice?” Seth turned to look at Mina. “What's that mean?”

Her brows rose innocently. “Nothing,” she squeaked. “Nothing really, only that there are a great many ladies who will put themselves forward, and I am not adept at…flirtation.”

His heart was sinking fast.

“We will help you, Mina,” one lady said, giggling.

“For the ball, you must wear the lavender, the one off the shoulder,” said another. “And rouge would not be frowned upon.”

“And you must smile and hold the gentleman's gaze at every opportunity,” said another.

“I don't think I can be that bold,” Mina said.

“It is essential,” the mouselike brunette said. “You must allow it is essential. Do you not agree, Mr. Mayhew?”

Rouge? Off the shoulder? What was he agreeing to? “I like lavender—”

Mina stood, as did all the other ladies. He lurched to his feet. “You're going?”

“I really must,” Mina said. “If I am to call at Government House before two o'clock, I mustn't delay. Thank you for your assistance. A male perspective is most helpful.”

“But…all right—”

Mina and the ladies sashayed off, their chatter all about Mina's dress and hair and something whispered about her
bosom
.

The hell!
He had to find Tom and discover where this Government House ball was.

Mina wouldn't just choose a husband without him, would she?