She glanced at the major’s carefully blank expression, then cleared her throat. “You all knew him well, I take it?”

He glanced at her. “He’d served with us, alongside us, for over eight years. He was a comrade, and a close friend.”

She’d noticed their uniforms, but now it struck her. She looked at the major. “You’re not regulars.”

“No.” His lips twisted. “We’re Hastings’s own.”

The Marquess of Hastings, the Governor-General of India. This group, and MacFarlane, had worked directly for him? “I see.” She didn’t, but she felt sure her uncle would be able to enlighten her.

They emerged onto the verandah steps.

“If you’ll wait here for a moment?”

It wasn’t really a question. She halted and, with Idi beside her, watched as the major raised a hand, attracting the attention of a sepoy sergeant drilling his troop on the maidan.

The sergeant quickly presented himself. With a few words, the major organized a group of sepoys to escort her back to the governor’s residence deeper in the town.

His innate yet understated air of command, and the attentiveness and willingness-even eagerness-of the sergeant to obey, were as impressive as his physical presence.

As the sepoys hurried to form up before the steps, Emily turned to the soldier beside her and held out her hand. “Thank you, Major…?”

He took her hand in a warm, strong clasp, met her eyes briefly, then half bowed. “Major Gareth Hamilton, Miss Ensworth.” Releasing her, he looked at the well-ordered sepoys, nodded his approval, then turned again to her.

Again met her eyes. “Please. Be careful.”

She blinked. “Yes, of course.” Her heart was thumping unusually quickly. She could still feel the pressure of his fingers around hers. Drawing in a much-needed breath, she inclined her head and stepped down to the dusty ground. “Good evening, Major.”

“Good evening, Miss Ensworth.”

Gareth stood on the steps and watched Emily Ensworth walk away across the sunburned ground toward the massive fort gates. With her porcelain complexion, rose-tinted and pure, her delicate features and soft brown hair, she looked so quintessentially English, so much the epitomization of lovely English maids he’d carried with him through all his years of service.

That had to be the reason he felt as if he’d just met his future.

But it couldn’t be her, couldn’t be now.

Now, duty called.

Duty, and the memory of James MacFarlane.

Turning, he climbed the steps and went back inside.

3rd September, 1822

My room in the Governor’s Residence, Bombay

Dear Diary,

I have waited for so long, and will admit that I had fallen into the habit of imagining it would never happen, that now it might have, I find myself rather cautious. Is this what my sisters meant when they said I would simply know? Certainly, my stomach and my nerves proved to be singularly sensitive to Major Hamilton’s nearness-as Ester, Meggie, and Hilary foretold-but how reliable is that indicator?

On the other hand, this does sound like fate playing her usual tricks. Here am I, virtually at the end of my stay in India-a sojourn expressly undertaken to broaden my horizons vis à vis marriageable gentlemen, exposing me to more specimens of varying character so that my well-known “pickiness” might become better informed-and I finally stumble on one who affects me, and after an entire day, I have barely learned his name and station.

It is no help that Aunt Selma remains in Poona, too far away to provide advice, and so all my information needs must come from my uncle, although Uncle Ralph does answer without thinking of the motives behind my questions, which is all to the good.

Until I know more about Major Hamilton, I cannot know if, as I am starting to fervently hope, he is “the one”-my “one,” the gentleman for me-so my most urgent need is to learn more about him, but from whom?

And I need to spend more time with him, too-but how?

I must devote myself to finding ways-I have only a few days left.

And after all these years of waiting for him to appear, and coming all this way before meeting him, sailing away and leaving my “one” behind just doesn’t bear thinking about.

E.

September 10, 1822

The Governor’s Residence, Bombay

Emily frowned at the Indian houseboy standing in the patch of sunlight slanting across the silk rug in her aunt’s parlor. “He’s leaving?”

The boy, Chandra, nodded. “Yes, miss. It is said he and his other friends have all resigned their commissions because they are so cast down by the death of their friend the captain.”

She resisted the urge to drop her head in her hands and tug at her braids. What the devil was Hamilton about? How could he be her “one” if he was so cowardly as to run home to England? What about honor and avenging a friend-a comrade and fellow officer killed in the most ghastly and gruesome manner?

A vision of the four men as they’d stood around the table in the officers’ bar swam across her mind. Her frown deepened. “All of them-all four-have resigned?”

When Chandra nodded, she specified, “And they’re all heading back to England?”

“That’s what everyone says. I have spoken with some who know their servants-they are all excited about seeing England.”

Emily sat back in the chair behind her aunt’s desk, thought again of those four men, of all she’d sensed of them, remembered the packet she’d placed in Delborough’s hands, and inwardly shook her head. Any one of those four turning tail was hard enough to swallow, but all four of them? She wouldn’t lose faith in Hamilton just yet.

They were up to something.

She wondered what.

She was due to board ship on the eighteenth of the month, sailing via the Cape to Southampton. She needed to learn more about Hamilton, a lot more, before she left. Once she was convinced he was not as cowardly as his present actions painted him, as he was going home, she could-somehow would-arrange to meet him again there.

But first…

She refocused on Chandra. “I want you to concentrate on Major Hamilton. See what you can learn of his plans-not just from his household but from the barracks and anywhere else he goes. But whatever you do, don’t get caught.”

Chandra grinned, his big smile startlingly white in his mahogany face. “You can count on Chandra, miss.”

She smiled. “Yes, I know I can.” She’d caught him gaming, which was forbidden for those on the governor’s payroll, but on learning his need for rupees to pay for medicine for his mother, had arranged for him to have money advanced from his pay, and for his mother, who also worked in the governor’s mansion, to receive better care. Ever since, Chandra had been her willing slave. And as he was quick, observant, and all but invisible in Bombay’s busy streets, he’d proved extremely useful in following Hamilton and the other three.

“One thing-Hamilton has no other Anglo friends, just those three officers?”

“Yes, miss. They all came from Calcutta some months ago, and have kept to themselves.”

Which would explain why she’d learned nothing of Hamilton through the Bombay social grapevine. She nodded to Chandra. “Very well. Let me know what you learn.”

September 15, 1822

The Governor’s Residence, Bombay

“He’s left?” Emily stared at Chandra. “When? And how?”

“This morning, miss. He took the sloop to Aden.”

“He and his servants?”

“So I heard tell, miss-they were already gone when I got there.”

Mind racing, she asked, “The other three-have they gone, too?”

“I have only had the chance to check on the colonel, miss. Apparently he left on the company ship this morning. Everyone was surprised. No one knew they were leaving so soon.”

The company ship was a mammoth East Indiaman which went via the Cape to Southampton. She was due to board a sister ship in a few days.

“See what you can learn about the other two-the other major and the captain.” If all four had precipitously departed Bombay…

Chandra bowed and left.

Emily felt a headache coming on.

Gareth Hamilton-he who might be her “one”-had left Bombay via the diplomatic route. Why?

Regardless of his motives, his sudden departure left her with a very big unanswered question-and an even bigger decision to make. Was he her “one,” or not? She needed more time with him to tell. If she wanted to get that time, following him might-just-be possible. If she acted now.

Should she follow him, or let him go?

Closing her eyes, she revisited those moments in the officers’ bar, the only moments on which she could judge him. Surprisingly vividly, she recalled the sensation of his fingers closing around hers, felt again that odd leap of her pulse, the frisson that had set her nerves jangling.

Felt, remembered, relived.

On a sigh, she opened her eyes. One point was inescapable.

Of all the men she’d ever met, only Gareth Hamilton had affected her in the slightest.

Only he had set her heart racing.

September 16, 1822

The Governor’s Residence, Bombay

“Good evening, Uncle.” Emily swept into the dining room and took her seat on her uncle’s right. They were the only two at dinner. Her aunt was still in Poona-which was a very good thing. Flicking out her napkin, she smiled at the butler, waited for him to serve her and step back before she said, “I have an announcement of sorts to make.”

“Oh?” Her uncle Ralph rolled a wary eye her way.

She smiled. She and Ralph had always got on well. “Don’t worry-it’s only a minor change in my plans. As you know, I was scheduled to depart on the company ship two days hence, but after speaking with others I’ve decided that, as I came by that route, I should instead go home by the direct and more scenic way.” She waved her fork. “See Egypt and the pyramids-and as it is the diplomatic route, there’s unlikely to be any serious danger, and plenty of embassies and consulates to call on for help if luck says otherwise.”

Ralph chewed, frowned. “Your father won’t like the idea, but then he won’t know-not until you’re standing in front of him again.”

Emily grinned. “I knew I could trust you to see the salient point. There’s really no reason I shouldn’t go home that way.”

“Assuming you can find passage at short notice. Your parents are expecting you back in four months-going via Cairo you’ll be able to surprise them, if you can find a berth-” Seeing the light in her face, Ralph broke off. “You’ve found one, I take it.”

Emily nodded. “And yes, it’s on one of the sloops the company regularly uses, so the captain and crew are vouched for.”

Ralph considered, then nodded. “Well, you’re the most sensible young lady I’ve ever known, and you’ll have Watson and Mullins with you, so I trust you’ll be all right.” He cocked a brow at her. “So, when do you leave?”

One

17th September, 1822

My cabin aboard the sloop Mary Alice

Dear Diary,

As usual, I will endeavor to record my thoughts at 5 o’clock every afternoon, before I dress for dinner. This morning I departed Bombay, and I understand we are making good time as the Mary Alice slices its way through the waves to Aden.

And yes, I acknowledge that it’s undeniably bold to be pursuing a gentleman as I’m pursuing Major Hamilton, but as we all know, fortune favors the bold. Indeed, even my parents should accept the necessity-they sent me to Bombay because I dragged my heels over choosing any of the young men who offered, opting instead to wait for my “one,” as all my sisters-and I suspect my sisters-in-law, too-did. I have always maintained that it was simply a matter of waiting for the right man to appear, and if Major Hamilton proves to be my right man, then at the ripe old age of twenty and four, I doubt anyone would argue against my pursuing him.

Of course, I have yet to determine if he truly is my “one,” but I can only decide that after meeting him again.

Speaking of which…he and his party are two days ahead of me.

I wonder how fast a sloop can go?

E.

1st October, 1822

My cabin aboard the Mary Alice

Dear Diary,

The answer to my last question is: quite amazingly fast when all sail is risked. My being extra charming to the captain and challenging him to demonstrate how fast his ship can go has paid a handsome dividend. We passed the Egret, the sloop carrying the major and his household, sometime last night. With luck and continuing fair winds, I will disembark in Aden before him, and he will have no reason to suspect I set out on this journey to follow him.