“Where is this intruder?” Kavi demanded, his face darkening.
She pointed at the window, her fingers trembling, betraying her fear. “He escaped.”
“What did he want?”
“Enough!” Udaya scolded. “She has been through an ordeal. She should rest.” She released India and began shooing Kavi from the room. “Go see that the intruder is gone from the premises, then see to this window. She cannot sleep in here.”
Kavi retreated and India reached out a hand to Udaya. “I am all right, Udaya. There is no need to fuss over me so.”
In truth, she wanted only to be left alone so she could regain her composure and sort out this most unexpected development.
“Are you sure?” Udaya asked anxiously, worry etched on her features.
“I daresay our intruder won’t return any time soon,” India said with a half smile.
“Come downstairs, while Kavi sees to your window. I’ll prepare you a cup of hot tea.”
India allowed herself to be led out of her room. As they descended the stairs, she said to Udaya, “Bring the tea into Papa’s study. There are things I need to work on.”
Udaya frowned but nodded. India turned at the bottom of the stairs to go into the study leaving Udaya to go on to the kitchen.
India sat down at her father’s desk and picked up the stack of the papers she had been reading over. She let them fall from her fingers, trailing to a rest on the desktop.
Already there was a sinister element to the momentous discovery only she knew about. Or did she? Clearly someone was very interested in the journal the viscount held.
She closed her eyes, weariness assailing her again as her bravado faded. The viscount was undoubtedly a glory seeker. Someone who had no more interest in ancient civilizations than the notoriety uncovering one would bring. She had seen his eagerness, knew of his interests from the articles he had written on Pagoria. The same articles that disparaged her father.
As soon as he knew what was transcribed on those pages, he’d mount an expedition. Regardless of whether the etchings were correct or not. Lord Ridgewood would not rest until he uncovered the city. She’d seen the determination in his eyes.
But her father would be proved right if the city could be found.
She sat back and closed her eyes. How she’d love to see the faces of the snooty historical society when they realized her father had been right all along.
Her natural curiosity for all matters Pagorian burned in her mind. She’d love nothing better than to see firsthand if the writings told a true story.And prove her father right.
Excitement curled within her at the thought. Then she frowned. Viscount Ridgewood was a persistent sort. Very used to having his way.
She stood and began to pace restlessly around the study. Much like the caged tiger she had once seen in the streets of Bombay. She had never spared much sympathy for the creature until her own experience in captivity. The very thought of enclosed spaces was enough to fill her with panic.
Somehow she had to make sure the viscount never left England. There was no way she would aid him in his endeavor, and when hell experienced a cold spell would she share such a momentous find with him. She and her father had spent years, countlessyears, searching for some sign of the city’s existence. Months spent in some of the worst conditions with only the hope of uncovering an artifact to sustain them.
Her father had died in his quest to uncover the city, and the least she could do was carry out his greatest wish. He had been scorned and ridiculed in life, but she’d be damned if he was afforded the same treatment in death.
She closed her eyes, despair filling her. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to embark on another quest. Her fingers crept to her forehead, and she massaged the tightness above her eyes. She only wanted a place to call home. But she couldn’t keep her home unless she found a way to procure funds.
She stopped pacing and glanced down at the copy of theHistorical Society Newson her desk still opened to the article on her father. Her hand curled angrily around the newspaper and crumpled it in her palm.
There were more important things than her desires. She had waited this long for the security of a home. She would just have to wait a bit longer. She owed it to her father to prove his detractors wrong. Even if it meant walking back into the life she had sworn to give up. Even if it meant confronting her worst fears.
Yes, she would do this. But first she would have to find a way to do it without Lord Ridgewood.
Chapter Three
For the second time in as many days, Ridge’s carriage rolled up the drive to the Ashton house. He descended the steps, feeling particularly fatalistic as he approached the front door.
He wasn’t used to being disappointed. Except by his family, but he had no control over them. The things he could control, he made sure his desires were met. But now his fate was in the hands of a mere slip of a woman, and he didn’t like it a damned bit. Wretched woman.
He blew impatiently when the Indian man opened the door and glared ominously at him.
