The moment my feet touched the dock, I breathed a sigh of relief to feel solid ground beneath me after months confined aboard ship.
Yet the voyage had not been without its sweetness. Once the sea no longer unsettled me, I discovered my husband’s ardor was deeper than I had ever dreamed. Far richer than stolen moments in front of a fireplace or after an opera.
In that crowded cabin, the world narrowed to only us. Even now, a blush stole across my cheeks at the memory of his wooing, so searing he left me dizzy and breathless. He read aloud fromPride and Prejudice, his voice rich with amusement, only to lay the book aside and prove himself far more persuasive than Mr. Darcy could ever hope to be.
The warm afternoon breeze was alive with scents so vivid I could almost taste them—spices sharp and fragrant, mingling with the sweetnessof tropical fruit, the tang of the sea, and the acrid bite of smoke from distant fires. My breath caught as memories I hadn’t dared to dwell on rushed back, unbidden.
I was six again, perched on my mother’s lap in the swaying palanquin, the silks of her sari brushing my face as we traveled through the city. The faint jingling of golden anklets, the melody of women singing as they worked, and the way she had hummed softly in my ear... It was as though the rhythm of the port was calling her back to me.
“Kitty?” Sebastian’s voice broke through the haze of memory. “I’ve made arrangements for our travel.”
I blinked, the present snapping into focus. The dock teemed with life. Men strode past me in loose dhotis. Several workers unloaded crates from the ships, their skin gleaming with sweat under the relentless sun. Women passed by in saris of every imaginable color—deep emeralds, sunlit golds, and bright fuchsias—adorned with shimmering embroidery. A group of them carried baskets balanced expertly on their heads, their bare feet moving deftly over the planks. They had oiled and braided their hair and added small flowers that contrasted starkly against the dark strands.
“I remember,” I said.
Sebastian turned, his brow lifting. “Remember what?”
“The palanquin,” I said, gesturing toward one waiting nearby. “I haven’t ridden in one since ... since my mother.”
His face softened. “Then it’s been far too long,” he said, a teasing lilt creeping into his tone. “I imagine it’ll be more comfortable than the ship.”
I couldn’t help but smile, though my heart ached at the thought. “If I recall, it sways almost as much.”
“Not if the bearers are good,” he said with mock seriousness, extending his arm. “Shall we test their skill?”
As we approached the palanquin, the surroundings grew louder—the cries of hawkers selling mangoes, bananas, and guavas; the chatter of merchants haggling over bolts of muslin and crates of tea; the calls ofdockworkers coordinating the unloading of cargo. The smell of ripe fruit mingled with the occasional sour waft of fish drying in the sun, and somewhere nearby, a faint trace of sandalwood lingered, likely from incense burning at a street shrine.
The sun blazed overhead—it was late February, in the middle of the dry season.
Sebastian handed me his hat. “Here,” he said, grinning. “For once, I’ll play the gentleman.”
I smirked, taking it. “Only because you’ve already removed your coat. How gallant of you to wilt in the heat first.”
He laughed. “Wilt? I’m adapting. There’s a difference.”
When I stepped into the palanquin, I took in the cushioned seat and faint smell of the wood—oiled and faintly smoky—while the curtains fluttered in the humid breeze. As the bearers lifted it, the swaying motion jolted more memories loose.
My mother had laughed, adjusting her veil as we moved through the court. “Look, Noor,” she’d whispered, pointing out the elephants as we passed through the city. I remembered the weight of her arm around me, the warmth of her voice. I had never felt so safe.
If only Edward were here with me. Instead, he’d remained in England.
I have work to do, Kit.
Now I understood the motivations for his strange behavior over the months leading up to my marriage. His spying for Mr. Wilberforce brought an immense wave of pride—and a touch of fear for his safety. But I had Freddy’s assurances that she would watch over him. Dearest Freddy. How I missed them both.
The palanquin lurched slightly, and I peeked through the curtains, watching the city pass by. Children darted between carts, their laughter ringing out above the din. An oxcart lumbered past, the driver shouting commands, and beyond it, I glimpsed the edge of a river glinting in the sunlight.
Sebastian’s palanquin pulled up alongside mine. “Don’t look so serious,” he teased, leaning slightly to catch my gaze through the curtain. “You’re supposed to be marveling at the grandeur. That is the Hooghly River.”
“I’ve seen grandeur before,” I replied, unable to keep the wistfulness from my voice.
He tilted his head, studying me. “And yet, you seem impressed.”
“Perhaps it’s not the grandeur that’s impressed me,” I said, lifting my chin. “Perhaps it’s the chaos.”
He laughed at that, shaking his head. “Chaos, indeed. Wait until we reach Lord Sinclair’s. You’ll find his estate is no less ... bustling.”
We passed countless vendors lining the roads with carts piled high with fruits and carved ivory. Brightly colored fabrics hung from makeshift awnings, their patterns bold and intricate. Cows wandered freely, their presence unremarkable to the bustling crowd.
