I saw women kneeling by shrines, placing garlands of marigolds over stone idols. A pang hit me then—and I missed the old country church covered with moss that Freddy and I had visited every Sunday.
Sebastian’s palanquin pulled up alongside mine again, his face alight with mischief. “I see you’ve survived the swaying so far. Shall I have them pick up the pace?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I replied, narrowing my eyes at him. Here was the man who had flirted with me at the Herschels’ and on the ship. Tension had seemed to peel away from him as soon as we stepped off the boat. Calcutta was home. India held his heart, not Britain.
He leaned closer, the curtain between us brushing his shoulder. “I might. It depends on how much entertainment I need for the ride.”
I laughed—the sound strange, for I had not laughed in a long while.
His cheeks dimpled as a look of wonder crossed his face. “You have a beautiful laugh.”
But my smile soon faded as I remembered his warning regarding his family.
My palms grew sweaty and anxiety churned deep within me at what I might soon discover.
When we arrived, the gates to the estate were swung open by servants, revealing a driveway lined with blossoming trees with clusters of yellow and white flowers, their sweet, heady scent filling the air. The house loomed ahead, a sprawling white mansion with grand columns and wide verandas shaded by awnings. The gardens overflowed with tropical blooms—hibiscus and jasmine—bursting with color against the backdrop of meticulously trimmed hedges.
More servants in crisp white uniforms bustled about the property. One came forward to help me from the palanquin, then bowed as he stepped back.
A deep, shuddering sigh left Sebastian before he turned to me and offered his arm.
“It’s imposing,” I admitted as I eyed the magnificent house.
“Yes, yes, it is. You’ll do well, Kitty.”
We stepped through the wide double doors, and I tried to match his confidence. I hesitated just past the threshold, my eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. As I took in the polished marble floors and the sweeping staircase, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching us.
A massive chandelier hung in the entryway, its crystal drops catching the sunlight streaming through tall windows. The staircase seemed to stretch forever, leading to a gallery lined with portraits in gilded frames.
As we walked farther inside, the strange sensation of being watched still prickled at the back of my neck. I glanced around the spacious entrance hall but saw no one.
Sebastian must have sensed my hesitation. His hand moved to rest lightly at my back, a gentle, grounding touch that sent warmth through me.
Heart pounding with the newness, I glanced around again, and I sawhim. A tall man stood in the gallery above. I remembered him from that ill-fated dinner so many years ago. He had not changed much.
As he slowly descended the stairs, his footsteps echoed in the cavernous hall. His dark hair, streaked with silver, was immaculately combed, and his superfine coat and breeches, though simple in design, were tailored to perfection. When he reached the landing, his expression didn’t shift. He studied me with a faint, almost courtly bow of his head.
“Lord Sinclair,” Sebastian said, his tone easy but respectful. “Grandfather, may I introduce my wife, Katherine Sinclair?”
Lord Sinclair’s gaze flicked back to me. “Katherine,” he echoed. “Welcome. I hope you will consider this your home.” He motioned for two servants to take our trunks. “I trust Sebastian has taken good care of you?”
“Very good care, my lord,” I replied quickly. The image of my husband holding me within the cramped quarters of the ship brought an odd hitch to my voice.
He turned to Sebastian. “That is as it should be with new husbands. We must mark this occasion properly. You’ve brought home a wife, just as you promised.”
Sebastian tensed beside me, though his hand remained firm at my back. “I thought we might keep things quiet for now, Grandfather. We’ve had a long journey and would like to rest.”
“Nonsense,” Lord Sinclair protested, his bland expression never wavering. “A celebration is in order. Nothing extravagant, of course. A modest dinner party among family members. Mrs. Sinclair belongs to us now. You would not deprive your sister-in-law of such companionship?”
My stomach twisted at the thought of navigating polite conversation in a world I was only beginning to remember—and one very different from both Seven Oakes and London. But Lord Sinclair’s tone left no room for argument, and I had no desire to appear weak.
“I shall be delighted to meet your family,” I said, earning an approving look from Lord Sinclair.
“Good, and while you settle in, I will speak with your husband. I should like to hear the result of your meetings, Sebastian.”
Again, a command, be it ever so politely stated. Lord Sinclair offered a small bow and left before I could protest.
Panic at being left alone bubbled up as I turned to my husband.
