Lord Sebastian's Secret (The Duke's Sons #3)(21)
“So is it?” said Hilda.
Realizing that she was addressing him, but with no idea of the topic, Sebastian summoned his very best smile. He’d found it a defense and a refuge when he’d lost track of a conversation or couldn’t find the right words to contribute, particularly where females were concerned.
All three Stane sisters blinked as if dazzled by a sudden light.
A diversionary tactic gave you room to maneuver, Sebastian thought. But it had to be followed up with an effective offense. “What’s that over there?” he asked.
“What?” Hilda and Georgina asked in the same moment. Emma turned to gaze in the direction he’d indicated.
It was nothing but more of Offa’s long dyke, but Sebastian continued the ruse by spurring over and examining the earthwork as if he’d spotted some interesting feature. The others followed, and Hilda’s question, whatever it had been, was lost. After that, Sebastian indulged Whitefoot in a good gallop that swept the cobwebs from both of their heads.
The next few days passed in the same sort of activities. When he wasn’t concealing his limited grasp of the marquess’s historical references or being pestered by Georgina’s sisters or her mother’s dogs, Sebastian grew a bit bored. He took Whitefoot out for a solid bout of exercise each day and walked in the gardens. The scraps of time he snatched with Georgina were tantalizing, and somewhat constrained. The latter worried him a good deal, but there never seemed to be an opportunity to find out the reason.
As he strolled into the shrubbery near the ancient tower on the tenth day of his visit, Sebastian heard footsteps ahead and sped up, hoping to see the lissome figure of his fiancée. Instead, he came upon Mr. Mitra, who started at Sebastian’s sudden appearance. “Ah, the young lord,” the other man said as they nodded a greeting. He made a rueful gesture. “Before this, I savored the rustle of leaves in the wind. Now, I jump like a rabbit at the sound, fearing it heralds a pack of small dogs. This is a melancholy change.”
“I don’t think they’re allowed in this part of the garden,” Sebastian said.
“Not alone. But our hostess brings them when she walks here. And if she sees me enter, she is often moved to walk. With all of her dogs.”
“You think she doesn’t like you?” Sebastian had gathered this much from some of the Indian gentleman’s previous comments.
His companion shrugged. “As to that, I do not know. I believe she finds my visit…irritating. She does not appreciate her husband’s new studies. I would depart, of course. But the marquess insists I stay. It is most awkward. Particularly when our host is occupied on the business of his lands, as today.”
“What about we take a stroll together,” Sebastian suggested. “If the pugs show up, I’ll keep them off you. And if Georgina’s sisters come hunting me, you’ll distract them.”
Mr. Mitra’s chiseled features relaxed in a smile. “A splendid bargain. I accept.”
The two men ambled along the sheltered path together. The day was overcast, with a sharp wind, and they were glad of the thick bushes on both sides. “How did you come to be acquainted with Stane in the first place?” Sebastian asked after a while.
“He read some of my writings,” Mitra replied. “Or rather, Miss Byngham did, I think. A fellow at the University of Cambridge has translated three of my books into English. After that, his lordship wrote to me. We corresponded for some time. When he then invited me to visit, I could not resist the chance to see the home of the race that has so efficiently…insinuated themselves into our lands.”
“Insinuated?”
“You are right,” said his companion. “It is a paltry word for conquerors.”
Here was another character with an oblique way of talking, Sebastian thought. There were far too many of them in the world. He didn’t attempt a direct answer. “I suppose you’re missing your home,” he said instead.
This earned him a warm look. “You are the only one who has said this to me. The rest seem to assume that everything is better here than in Bengal, and so I must long to remain.”
“Bengal?”
“You are not familiar with the lands your East India Company has… Perhaps I had better not say overrun?” Mitra raised dark brows.
“I was never much of a hand at geography,” Sebastian answered. The other man’s evaluating expression reminded him of schoolmasters, and a memory caught him. He and two brothers bent over a multicolored globe covered with tiny words; the letters seemed to swim before his eyes as if they were fish in the blue expanses of the pictured oceans. And just as slippery. “Part of India, isn’t it?” he ventured.
Mr. Mitra cocked his head and gazed at him, then smiled slightly. “I miss my family a great deal,” he said, as if the question of locales had never arisen. “And I am accustomed to a more…lively society than I have met here. However, I understand that some neighbors are invited to dine with us tomorrow night.”
“Really?” Sebastian hadn’t heard this, but he’d been out riding all morning.
“Indeed. It is the first such occasion since I arrived at this place. I am told that the long distance between estates in this province makes visiting difficult.” He gave Sebastian a sidelong glance. “I suspect that our host’s activities and opinions do not endear him to other members of his caste. Because he is clearly a very sociable person.”