LITMIR.BIZ

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not to say anything even remotely provocative or flirtatious and it was not proper to discuss further details of their accommodation.

      ‘How do you propose to pass the voyage, my lord?’ she enquired at last when the soup was removed and replaced with curried fish.

      ‘Writing,’ Alistair said, as he passed her a dish of chutney.

      The ship was still in the river, its motion gentle, but Dita almost dropped the dish. ‘Writing?’

      ‘I have been travelling ever since I came to the East,’ he said. ‘I have kept notebooks the entire time and I want to create something from that for my own satisfaction, if nothing else.’

      ‘I will look forward to reading it when it is published.’ Alistair gave her a satirical look. ‘I mean it. I wish I had been able to travel. My aunt and uncle were most resistant to the idea when I suggested it.’

      ‘I am not surprised. India is not a country for young women to go careering around looking for adventures.’

      ‘I did not want to career around,’ Dita retorted, ‘I wanted to observe and to learn.’

      ‘Indeed.’ His voice expressed polite scepticism. ‘You had ambitions of dressing up as a man and travelling incognito?’

      ‘No, I did not.’ Dita speared some spiced cauliflower and imagined Alistair on the end of her fork. ‘I am simply interested in how other people live. Apparently this is permissible for a man, according to you, but not for a woman. How hypocritical.’

      ‘Merely practical. It is dangerous’. He gestured with his right hand, freed now of its bandage.

      Dita eyed the headed slash across the back, red against the tan. ‘I was not intending to throw myself at the wildlife, my lord.’

      ‘Some of the interesting local people are equally as dangerous and the wildlife, I assure you, is more likely to throw itself at you than vice versa. It is no country for romantic, headstrong and pampered young females, Lady Perdita.’

      ‘You think me pampered?’ she enquired while the steward cleared the plates.

      ‘Are you not? You accept the romantic and headstrong, I note.’

      ‘I see nothing wrong with romance.’

      ‘Except that it is bound to end in disillusion at the very best and farcical tragedy at the worst.’ He spoke lightly, but something in his voice, some shading, hinted at a personal meaning.

      ‘You speak from experience, my lord?’ Dita enquired in a tone of regrettable pertness to cover her own feelings. He had fallen in love with someone and been hurt, she was certain. And she was equally certain he would die rather than admit it, just as she could never confess how she felt for him. How she had once felt, she corrected herself.

      ‘No,’ he drawled, his attention apparently fixed on the bowl of fruit the steward was proffering. ‘Merely observation. Might I peel you a mango, Lady Perdita?’

      ‘They are so juicy, no doubt you would require a bath afterwards,’ she responded, her mind distracted by the puzzle of how she felt about him now. Had she ever truly been in love with him, and if so, how could that die as it surely had, leaving only physical desire behind? It must have been merely a painful infatuation, the effect of emotion and proximity when she was on the verge of womanhood, unused to the changes in her body and her feelings. It would have passed, surely, if she had not stumbled into his arms at almost the moment she had realised how she felt.

      But if it was merely infatuation, why had she been so taken in by Stephen? Perhaps one was always attracted to the same looks in a man … Then she saw the expression on Lady Grimshaw’s face. Oh goodness, what had she just said?

      ‘Bath,’ Alistair murmured. He must have seen the look of panic cross her face. ‘How fast of you to discuss gentlemen’s ablutions, Lady Perdita,’ he added, loudly enough for the elderly matron’s gimlet gaze to fix on them intently.

      ‘Oh, do hush,’ she hissed back, stifling the giggle that was trying to escape. ‘I am in enough disgrace with her already.’

      Alistair began to peel the mango with a small, wickedly sharp knife that he had removed from an inner pocket. ‘What for?’ he asked, slicing a succulent segment off the stone and on to her plate.

      ‘Existing,’ Dita said as she cut a delicate slither and tried it. ‘Thank you for this, it is delicious.’

      ‘You have been setting Calcutta society by the ears, have you?’ Alistair gestured to the steward who brought him a finger bowl and napkin. ‘You must tell me all about it.’

      ‘Not here,’ Dita said and took another prim nibble of the fruit. Lady Grimshaw turned her attention to Averil, who was blushing at Daniel Chatterton’s flirtatious remarks.

      ‘Later, then,’ Alistair said and, before she could retort that he was the last person on the ship to whom she would confide the gossip that seemed to follow her, he turned to Mrs Edwards on his other side and was promptly silenced by her garrulous complaints on the subject of the size of the cabins and the noise of the Tompkinson children.

      Dita fixed a smile on her lips and asked the captain how many voyages he had undertaken; that, at least, was a perfectly harmless topic of conversation.

      When dinner was over she went to Averil and swept her out of the cuddy and up on to the poop deck.

      ‘Come and look at the chickens, or the view, or something.’

      ‘Are you attempting to avoid Lord Lyndon, by any chance?’ Averil lifted her skirts out of the way of a hen that had escaped from its coop and was evading the efforts of a member of the crew to recapture it.

      ‘Most definitely,’ Dita said. ‘The provoking man seems determined to tease me. He almost made me giggle right under Lady Grimshaw’s nose and I have the lowering suspicion that he has heard all about the scandal in England and has concluded that I will be receptive to any liberties he might take.’

      The fact that she knew she would be severely tempted if Alistair attempted to kiss her again did nothing to calm her inner alarm.

      ‘Forgive me for mentioning it,’ Averil ventured, ‘but perhaps if one of the older ladies were to hint him away? If he has heard of the incident and has wrongly concluded that you … I mean,’ she persisted, blushing furiously, ‘if he mistakenly thinks you are not …’

      ‘I spent two nights in inn bedchambers with a man to whom I was not married,’ Dita said. ‘An overrated experience, I might add.’

      It had been a dreadful disillusion to discover that the man she had thought was perfect in looks and in character was a money-hungry boor with the finesse of a bull in a china shop when it came to making love.

      The realisation that she had made a terrible mistake had begun to dawn on her by the time the chaise hired with her money had reached Hitchin. Stephen had no longer troubled to be charming, to be witty, to converse or to show the quick appreciation of her thoughts he had always counterfeited before. He had fretted about pursuit and asked interminable questions about her access to her funds. When the postillions, who quite obviously realised that an elopement was afoot, became impertinent he blustered ineffectually and Dita had to snub them with a few well-chosen words.

      By the time they had stopped for the first night Dita decided she had had enough and declared that she would hire another chaise and return alone. It was then that she discovered that Stephen was quite capable of forcing her into the inn and up to a bedchamber and that he had removed all the money from her luggage and reticule.

      The effort to keep him from her bed involved a sleepless night and a willingness to stab him with a table knife after he had run the gamut from trying to charm her, to attempting to maul her, to a desperate attempt to force her.

      The second day had been worse. He had been furious and sulky and every pretence that this was anything but an abduction had gone. Papa had caught up with them as they

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