Discovery of Desire (7 page)

After what happened to Mary, love never would.

* * *

Seth leaped out of the carriage. “Now there's a lake!”

He spoke too loud, exited too fast, but damned if he didn't need to be out of that carriage. Nine miles should have been an easy distance, but not in company that included Mina being sad. Not when he couldn't say all he wanted.

Not when there wasn't a thing he could do to help.

It wasn't his place to help Mina from the carriage, either. He moved aside so Tom could hand the women down.

Mina's lips parted at her first sight of Vehar Lake, the water wide and blue and bordered by a range of long, green hills that seemed to stretch without end. The sun was warm and the prospect the finest he'd seen in India. Would it be enough to spirit up a venture girl?

She strolled to the front of the carriage to pet the horses and his eyes followed, lured by the marvel of her little waist, nipped in by her skirt, and the filmy white blouse hugging the sweet curve of her breasts. Her dark hair was shiny as glass in the sun before she tied on her bonnet and hid all that prettiness from him.

But for all that was so calm and composed on the outside, Mina couldn't hide the trouble showing in those big, brown eyes of hers. And in the carriage, it had nearly made him haul her onto his lap and hold her.

Tom said she'd come to marry, but that wasn't the whole truth. Wasn't even most of it. What was clear was that
Emma
was the one committed to wed. With Tom and Colin Rivers working together in the Northwest Province, Mina must have come because she wasn't about to let her sister be alone.

No, India wasn't any place for an Englishwoman.

“Mayhew?” Tom was at his shoulder. “I asked what you hunt?”

He steered his attention back to Tom and caught the knowing look in the man's eye. He knew he watched Mina too much, and Tom was being patient with his interest. For now. There was no understanding the man. Hell, Tom didn't seem to be courting her at all.

What had he asked? “Ay? No, never hunted for sport,” Seth mumbled. “Isn't a pleasure outing for me anyway.”

“There may be something useful to be had from Walpole,” Tom said.

“Maybe, but he's just a clerk. We know a man higher in requisitions.”

“Not one keen to help.”

Seth nodded grimly. “We're here—we'll talk to Walpole. Just remember why
you're
here. You need to win over Miss Mina.”

“It's been one day.”

“And you better work on that powerful charm of yours. Hell, Tom, what was all that talk of dysentery?”

Tom stared. “What? She asked—”

“She asked for a nice story about your travels in-country, and you give her tales of bowel disorders.”

“That's what happened.”

“Minnie doesn't want to be here, might even be afraid of being here, and you're not helping with all your talk of sickness. Hell,
I
couldn't think of anything to say. Not even a bit of nonsense to make her smile or blush.”

“It's not your concern, Mayhew.”

“I know it,” he growled.
Damn idiot.
“But if you want to marry her, go and talk to her. And leave off stories of the ass-stinging blister flies you have over here.”

Tom mumbled something under his breath but stalked over to Mina. The smile she gave Tom hit Seth like a blow to the gut—but that was all right. Mina needed settling first. Once the search for Georgie took them out of Bombay, at least Mina would be safe.

Seth walked in the other direction. A dozen carriages had arrived before them. Ladies unrolled straw mats higher on the hill and arranged the picnic, while the servants unpacked the carriages and herded the dogs.

The men inspected their rifles for the benefit of the women, while Seth studied the men. Even on a snipe hunt at the edge of Bombay, the gents wore English suits.

He'd never owned any suit—let alone a sporting suit—that fit as fine as those the men were wearing. He pulled down the hem of his coat and straightened his hat. In London, Will Repton had given him the name of his tailor, but he couldn't afford such things. Mina would never see him in anything good.

Damn stupid of him to be thinking on it.

Mina, Emma, and Tom joined him, and Seth looked at the lake, the hills, the dogs—nearly twisted his head off looking at anything but Mina and Tom standing arm in arm.

“Look, Mayhew.” Tom pitched his voice low. “The one in the green waistcoat is Mr. Walpole. You might not want to outshoot him.”

“No danger in that,” he said. “Didn't bring a gun.”

Tom squinted at him from behind his spectacles. “No gun? Why not? You own several.”

What did he do wrong now? “They're for traveling.”

Tom blinked. “You're at a hunt.”

“I told you—never hunted for sport.”

“Huzzah, Mr. Mayhew!” Emma cried.

Was Mina as pleased with him? She was admiring the view and there was no deciphering from that small smile if she approved of a nonsporting man or not. “I
can
shoot, of course,” Seth said. “And fish.
And
ride—I stick on a horse real tidy.”

Mina turned a puzzled gaze on him.

Well…right. Damn awkward thing to be mentioning just then.

“No gun,” Tom grumbled, his stare screwed on him. “Don't think you'll loll about among the ladies, Mayhew. You'll stay with the men, even if you aren't hunting.”

“I know it,” he mumbled.

“And no pulling out Georgiana's poster unless the conversation turns in that direction.”

Seth frowned and just managed to stay his hand from pulling Georgie's poster out of his pocket. Tom may not credit him with much of a brain, but there was no cause to be scolding him in front of Mina—especially when Seth only agreed to come to give Tom a little time with her.

Mina didn't seem to be listening anyway, her eyes intent on her friends. The venture girls waved and smiled at each other. And nodded and pointed and shook their heads, communicating women's matters silently.

“Shooting cannot be to everyone's taste,” Mina said distractedly, smiling at a couple strolling toward them. “
Oh look
, here is my friend Beatrice.”

Seth grinned at the false surprise. Even Beatrice's brows rose at Mina's big welcome.

“Hello, Mina.” Beatrice presented the gent with her. “May I introduce Mr. Hodges to you all?”

Introductions were made and the ladies did the pretty, saying all the civil things ladies said, leaving the men to stare blankly at each other and nod.

Hodges turned toward him. “Mr. Mayhew, I understand from this enchanting creature”—he patted Beatrice's hand—“that you require information from John Company.”

Seth perked up. “I do at that.”

“I can offer an inroad into that prickly territory, I daresay,” Hodges said. “Let's not disturb these gentle ladies with our talk. Come along, Mayhew.”

Come along?
Seth corrected the frown on his face and followed.
Come along
…like a damn dog. But he sent Mina a grateful nod for the help.

When they'd removed themselves from the ladies, Hodges took out his card. “Call on me tomorrow. We'll discuss the matter of your sister.”

Seth grinned. “I appreciate that—”

“What's this I hear of a missing Englishwoman?” A thin gent with an ivory stick demanded loudly as he joined them, but he appeared to be posing for a redhead who looked ready to swoon with ecstasy at the man's question.

And suddenly, Seth was in a circle of gents proclaiming themselves the only possible solution on the matter of the missing Georgiana Mayhew. Voices were rising, too, but Seth collected cards as fast as he could reach for them.
Damn me, a productive day, after all.

“Attention!” A stout man in tall boots shouldered his rifle and waved his arm, ending the men's posturing over whom was best positioned to gain information and rescue Georgie. “The snipe are nesting in the dry rice paddies just around the bend of this hill. Ladies, as I'm sure you wish to see the men shoot, we must all come upon them silently so as not to frighten them off before the dogs set them to wing.” He tucked his chin coyly, holding a plump brunette's eye. “So none of your giggles, Hester.”

The ladies giggled and a few men frowned. Married men, likely. If they were keen to shoot, they'd come on the wrong day. Today was all about suitoring.

“Should the ladies not wait here, then?” Mina asked.

The giggles died and the venture girls all turned to look at her. Mina looked from one stricken face to the next. “We'll frighten off the snipe.” She used her smallest voice. “Won't we?”

The man with the rifle smiled sheepishly. “Oh my dear, what fun is there in that? You must walk with us, ladies. At a suitable distance for your safety, of course.”

The women relaxed into smiles and sidled next to their men. Mina and Emma stayed with Seth as Tom collected his rifle and kit from the carriage.

He chuckled at the blush rising on Mina's cheeks and bent to whisper in her ear. “You don't know how to flirt at all, do you, Minnie?”

She took a fast step from him. “Evidently not, Mr. Mayhew.”

His heart cracked and the grin slipped right off his lips. And he didn't miss her glance at Tom, either. Well…
hell
. He shouldn't have done that. He was embarrassing her. He didn't even own a proper sporting suit.

“You're right of course, miss,” a man said from behind them.

Seth turned to face him but the man's smile was aimed wholly at Mina. Wait—green waistcoat.
Walpole
.

“There's no sense in having a big, noisy party scare up those snipe,” Walpole said.

“Thank you, sir. I have no experience with hunts.” Mina lowered her lids and smiled shyly.

Seth had never seen her do that.

The man bowed to her. “My apologies. I am Earnest Walpole, miss. Please excuse my boldness. I fear I offend you.”

“Not at all,” Mina said. “I believe we may have a shared acquaintance in Thomas Grant?”

Walpole turned a questioning eye on him and Seth shook his head. “Not me.” He pointed to Tom at the carriage. “There's your man.”

“Ah, yes.” Walpole promptly redirected his attentions to Mina and Emma in his pursuit of a comely wife. “It really is only sensible to separate the men and ladies.” He leaned close to Emma as if sharing some great pearl of wisdom. “I've learned to take only one silent servant and my cleverest bitch when shooting snipe.”

His smile showed all his teeth. How the hell was this Walpole going to help him again? “You must be quite a gunner,” Seth said dryly.

Walpole shrugged, looking pleased. “The snipe are smaller and swifter here than back home, but in truth, I never enjoyed the hunt better than in Ireland.”

“I've often heard the Irish countryside is very beautiful,” Mina said.

Walpole's leer slid over to her. “Indeed. So you would be quite at home there, Miss Adams.”

Seth's eyes narrowed, but that
was
a good compliment. A little fast, maybe. He cleared his throat a bit too loud—a bit too stern maybe, because Emma arched a warning brow at him.

Right. He may need this Romeo.

“You flatter me, sir.” Mina slipped her hand around Walpole's elbow. “I have never been to Ireland.” She aimed her perfect lips at Walpole's ear. “I wonder if Mr. Mayhew has?”

Maybe she knew a
little
about flirting. She was standing too damn cozy with the gent, in any case.

And where the hell was Walpole looking?

“Mr. Mayhew is an explorer and has traveled extensively,” Mina said. “Though I daresay his mission here is the most vital journey of them all.”

Seth cleared his throat again—it sounded more like a growl—but Mina didn't even spare him a glance. Hell. She'd vowed to do everything she could to help, hadn't she? But he sure didn't want this kind of help.

Walpole held Mina's gaze, evidently not caring where Seth had traveled or why. “Yes…well. A man might do well to explore closer to home.”

Mina shook her head. “Yes, but Mr. Mayhew—”

“Every young man of spirit should see Ireland,” Walpole said. “But the bogs make some snipe hunts frightfully treacherous.”

“That so?” Seth said. “Why's that?”

Walpole spoke over his shoulder at him. “The bogs, man. Put a step wrong and you'll be good and gone.” He chuckled smugly. “Unless you learn to throw yourself, er, sideways, of course.”

Walpole's voice had lowered as he leaned toward Mina, like he was suggesting something
sideways
with her.

“And why's that?” Seth demanded.

Walpole's chuckles faded, and he turned to face him. “Because, Mister…Mayhew, is it? The bog can support the weight of a man if he's horizontal.”

“Why's that?”

Mina was giving him a pointed, panicked stare, but this time Seth ignored
her
.

“
The peat
, Mr. Mayhew.” Walpole smiled, but it looked strained. “And then, of course, you must learn the correct way to throw your gun off.” He turned back around and covered Mina's hand with his own.

And Seth couldn't stop himself. “And why's that?”

Walpole's back stiffened. “Because the gun might—Mr. Mayhew, for the sake of variety, could you pose a question that doesn't begin with ‘why'?”

“I suppose I can,” Seth said.

“Excellent.”

“How come you have to learn to throw your gun off?”

Walpole faced him. Seth returned the challenge in the man's eye. And doubled it. The gent blinked first and seemed to understand.

Because he took his hands off Mina.

Walpole turned his attention to Emma. “Miss Adams, I believe I see the refreshment table and feel a sudden need for a drink. Will you join me? If you are not”—he looked at Seth—“otherwise engaged?”