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‘The memsahib? But why?’
‘I don’t know, can’t think. Find out if she is safe in bed.’
Nick got his feet on the floor and somehow made it to the washstand. The water was lukewarm, but he plunged his head into it and towelled himself dry. He was still in dress uniform and he struggled out of the tight jacket, the high stock and the fitted breeches and started to drag on civilian riding clothes and his boots.
‘The memsahib is asleep,’ Ajit reported from the doorway.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I opened the door a little and looked in. I could see the shape in the bed under the covers.’
The brandy was acting like a blow to the head, but his instincts for trouble had not deserted him and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He walked doggedly to Anusha’s bedchamber, went straight in and pulled back the mosquito netting. Without its shrouding effect the bolster down the middle was obvious. ‘Get her woman here now.’
* * *
Half an hour later, amidst a flurry of servants, Nick stood forcing down scalding black coffee while George paced up and down, the skirts of his silk robe flaring out with each agitated turn. ‘What the devil is she doing? Her woman says she has taken several changes of linen, and the clothes she wore when she arrived have gone—this isn’t a moonlit ride on the maidan! I know Anusha is upset, but—’
‘What is she upset about?’ Nick poured more coffee.
‘She knows about the inheritance.’
So that explained it. ‘She’s run away,’ Nick said flatly through the splitting headache that was making his eyes cross. ‘She thinks she isn’t good enough for an aristocrat.’
‘It would not be easy for her,’ George said. ‘Or for you, perhaps.’
‘I know that. But anyone who tries to tell me she isn’t acceptable and refuses to receive her is going to be exceedingly sorry—and that includes the whole damned court of St James. She’s been brought up to be a princess, her bloodline goes back into the mists of time, she’s got more courage than most of the men I know. Hell, George, what am I going to do if I can’t find her?’
‘You will find her.’ The older man gripped him by the upper arms and gave him a shake. ‘You will. Now think—where would she go?’
Through the pain in his head and the fear in his gut and the ache in his heart the answer came to him. ‘She’s gone back to Kalatwah, the only place where she thinks she’ll be accepted.’
‘But how? If she’s taken the horse she can’t be going to try to find a boat.’
‘Have you been in your study? Come on.’ Nick strode out, George on his heels. ‘Look at those map rolls—they’ve been disturbed. And the ledgers in front of your safe have been moved—she can pick locks. Check the money, I’ll find which maps she’s got. I have a horrible feeling that Anusha is intending to ride all the way back. If she’s planning that, then she’ll most likely find a group of travellers heading that way. My guess is that she’ll start by going to Barrackpore.’
There was a groan from the other side of the room. George turned from the open safe and dumped a pile of gems on the desk. ‘She’s taken money and she has left her jewels in return.’
‘Don’t worry. I will get her back.’ Nick realised he was the one offering reassurance now. His headache was ebbing as he sobered, but it was replaced with a knot of fear for Anusha and something else, an emotion he could not quite define, but which gave him hope and at the same time terrified him. ‘Ajit and I will try the gates around the city—if nothing else, she’s riding Rajat and he’s distinctive.’
He strode to the door, calling for Ajit as he went. He would move heaven and earth to find her. Anusha was his, whether she realised it or not.
* * *
Sunrise. Anusha shifted in the saddle and looked back over her shoulder for the twentieth time, or so it seemed. The road behind the cavalcade of Bengali traders to which she had attached herself was clear. But of course it would be and she was fearful for no reason. Nick would have come home drunk, as he had threatened, no one would notice anything amiss until Nadia came with her morning tea and then there would be confusion and questions and it would take an age before they worked out that she had not slipped out for a morning ride, but had fled.
‘You are sorry to be leaving Calcutta, my young friend?’ One of the merchants who had given permission for her to join the party brought his horse alongside. ‘You leave your sweetheart behind perhaps, eh?’
