Madeline Howard skimmed the pages of the article. “Oooh! There is something about him in here, after all. I knew they wouldn’t show his photograph for no reason.” She cleared her throat and read: “…The Duchess, formerly Lady Georgiana Wolford, is sister to the Marquess of Kyre. Her name was attached to many gentlemen in her earlier seasons before finally becoming the wife of the Duke.
“Her brother, Lord Kyre, much prefers to spend time at his country seat, Wolford Abbey, in Kyre, but has lately been in town for the Season—a rare treat for the hopeful mamas of unmarried young ladies out in society.”
Well, at least he wasn’t married. Linley sighed, still studying Patrick’s photograph. “Thank you, Mrs. Howard,” she said. “You were very kind to give this to me, and also to read the article.”
Madeline looked over at her sister. They knew a broken heart when they saw one.
“It isn’t my place to ask,” Mrs. Howard said, “But you didn’t give yourself to him, did you? I won’t judge you if you did, but he needs to be held accountable if he gave you the chuck.”
“No. He was a perfect gentleman,” Linley said. “If he expected anything, he never made it known.”
Ada leaned forward and patted her hand. “Then what’s the problem? Why are you in India when you could be in London with him?”
“Because things aren’t that simple,” she said. “I have a responsibility to my father, and to our team. I couldn’t possibly let them down.”
Madeline Howard frowned. “That’s where you’re wrong, dear. You have a responsibility to yourself. And whether you follow your heart or not, the only person you risk letting down is yourself.”
***
It was hot, but then again, it always seemed hottest before the rains. Linley tossed in bed, kicking off the thin blanket, and wrapping herself in the cotton sheet. Across the bedroom, muslin curtains hung flat and limp against the open window. No breeze stirred them.
Yes, it was hot, but that was not the only reason she couldn’t sleep. The slapping of a headboard against the wall next door didn’t help.
Neither did Madeline Howard’s moans, nor her husband’s low cries. They’d been at it for a good half hour, and Linley prayed one of them would soon give out. As intriguing as it all was, she was hot, tired, and she knew she’d never sleep on the train. Tomorrow she would be hotter, and even more tired.
Linley rolled onto her stomach and pulled the sheet over her head. She once peeked at a page of the Kama Sutra but was too afraid to investigate any further. She’d always thought sex to be a marital duty—one some couples seemed to enjoy, while others dreaded.
The Howards were obviously part of the former.
Madeline’s cries of pleasure practically rattled the windows. Linley’s mind drifted back to the afternoon when she told Patrick she would one day take a lover. Of course, she hadn’t really known what all that entailed. But now she did. No wonder he became so upset—Patrick didn’t like the thought of her with another man any more than she cared for the thought of him making love to Gaynor Robeson.
The impact of what leaving him in London truly meant slowly began to sink in. She could carry around a clipped-out photograph of him in her pocket for the rest of her life, but it would never be a substitute for the real Patrick. Never be a substitute for a real relationship.
Linley often thought the reason none of the Talbot-Martin team ever married was because they never wanted to…but what if they did? What if all along Archie, and Reginald, and Schoville had wanted wives and families, but never found the time? No one could expect a woman to be happy being dragged across the world, sleeping in tents, and eating food you’d rather not question. There was no stability in their lives. The members of the Talbot-Martin team lived from expedition to expedition, and the future was always an uncertainty. They sacrificed homes, and families, and maybe even love.
She rolled over and sat up in the bed. The noise from next door was gone. Mr. and Mrs. Howard had finished and were probably falling asleep, damp and sated, in each other’s arms. Linley wondered what it would be like to be made love to. To drift off to sleep against a man’s warm body.
A man’s naked body. She smiled to herself, knowing that when she pictured this man, she imagined Patrick. She thought of their kiss at her party, and the way he held her as they watched the sun rise over London the night before she left.
Of course, she had given up a friend, but now wondered if she hadn’t sacrificed much, much more. Linley didn’t want to be alone for the rest of her life. She believed in her father’s work, and she never wanted to stop helping him, but neither did she want to grow old without knowing what it truly meant to love someone. And to have someone love her in return.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Under the shade of the lean-to station, the Talbot-Martin team listened to the hiss of the locomotive as the crew stoked the fires and heated the boilers, sending smoke bellowing from the great black engine.