but it is not necessarily the most lasting. I want a lasting love for you. You have always trusted me, India. Why will you not trust me in this matter? You are my daughter, and I don’t want you hurt.”
“If you do not let me marry Adrian, I will be unhappy the rest of my life,” India announced dramatically.
“Since you two cannot agree on this point,” Jasmine said, interjecting herself between her eldest child and her husband, “I think it best we do not discuss it again tonight. India, you have done a fine job of getting ready, and since you are, you will help your sister and me to pack our own possessions tomorrow. Now, go to your room, my child, and rest. You know how difficult it is to rest along the road, and we have a very, very long journey ahead of us,” Jasmine concluded.
Kissing her parents, India moved serenely up the staircase and entered her bedchamber. She had given her father one last chance, and she had hoped against hope that he would change his mind and then they wouldn’t have to run away. She sighed. Adrian had been right all along. Her father was not giving them any other choice. Well, this time tomorrow they would be well at sea and on their way to Italy, and all her parents would know from the note she was leaving them was that she and Adrian had gone off to marry and they would not come back until they had.
“Why do you bait Papa that way?” Fortune demanded, entering the room. “He is not being unreasonable. Your viscount really isn’t right for you, India, but you are always so insistent upon having your own way.”
“Papa has never said he disapproved of Adrian, only his family,” India retorted.
“A man is his family,” Fortune replied. “You packed early so you could sneak off tomorrow, and spend time with your swain, didn’t you? Mama saw right through you, and now you’ll have to help us,” she teased her elder sister. “I am very fussy about how my things are packed. It will take you all day between us, I fear.”
“If you are not careful,” India threatened her sister, “I’ll take all your clothing and throw it out the window!”
“Ha! Ha!” Fortune taunted, and, picking up a pillow, whacked India with it.
Within moments, the two were engaged in a pillow fight that ended with them both collapsing into gales of laughter upon the bed.
“I shall miss you, little sister,” India said.
“Miss me?” Fortune looked puzzled.
“When Father marries me off to his dark stranger in a few months’ time,” India quickly said. “God’s boots! Do you realize our childhood is just about at an end? By this time next year we could be both great with child!” She stuffed one of the pillows beneath her skirts and paraded about the room. “Ohhh, I hope it’s a son for my dear lord.”
Fortune giggled. “Why do men always want sons?” she wondered aloud.
“Well, our real father didn’t get one first,” India said. “He got me before he got Henry, and then he got you after he died.”
“Do you remember our real father at all?” Fortune ask wistfully.
India sighed deeply. “I have one tiny memory of this great, big, golden laughing man lifting me up in front of him on his horse and riding me about, but that is all. It really isn’t much, is it?”
“It’s more than Henry and I have,” Fortune answered her. “Our real father wasn’t even alive when I was born, but I do remember Prince Henry a little bit. He was handsome, and could never take his eyes off Mama. Just imagine if he had been allowed to marry Mama. Then our Charlie would be king now instead of his uncle Charles.”
“Mama was considered unsuitable,” India said. She had been older than Fortune, and remembered more.
“Just like Adrian is unsuitable for you,” Fortune responded.
“I am going to bed,” India announced, ending the discussion.
The two sisters washed themselves, put on their nightgowns, and climbed into bed. Across the room the fire burned brightly, warming the bedchamber. India blew out the candle and settled down. If she did not wake up in time, Adrian had promised to throw pebbles at the windowpane again. As her trunks were in the hall by the front door, it would only take her a little while to dress and go down to join him. She wasn’t certain she would sleep, but she did, Fortune snuggled close next to her, making her familiar little sleep noises.
India awoke suddenly in the darkness. The clock in the hallway struck three times. She lay quietly for several minutes and then arose carefully, wincing as her feet touched the icy floor boards. Padding across the chamber, India added some coal to the fire, and it soon after sprang to life again. The clock chimed the quarter hour. She dressed slowly in a black velvet gown, a starched white ruff about her neck. On her feet she wore dark walking boots. In the attics she had found a mourning veil she would wear with her dark gloves and long dark cape. While she dressed, the clock in the hall chimed the half hour, and now was chiming three-quarters of the hour. India stuffed her jewelry pouch in her beaver muff and slipped quietly from the room.
She tiptoed down the staircase, moved as silently as she could through the hallway and entered the library. Going to the panel, behind which her father hid the valuables, she opened it and thrust her hand inside. Immediately her fingers made contact with the chamois bag. Pulling it out, she opened it, making certain that it was filled with gold coins. Satisfied, she pushed it into her muff with her jewelry and closed the panel. Now she hurried out into the main hallway of the house again, and, going to the front door, she slowly, and not without some difficulty, drew the bolts securing the entrance aside. She did not have to wait long.
There came a gentle scratching at the door, and India opened it immediately, allowing Viscount Twyford into the house with another man. He immediately picked up one of India’s trunks and headed back down to the river.
“Take the other trunk,” India instructed Adrian. “I want to rebolt the door so no one notices the door unlocked in the morning and raises an alarm too soon. I’ll go out the library window, my love, and join you in but a moment.”
The viscount took up the second trunk and India shut the door behind him, sliding the bolts back into place. She then retraced her steps to the library and exited through one of the casement windows, pushing it shut behind her. It was unlikely anyone would notice the window was unlatched if it gave the appearance of being closed tightly. Then, without a backward glance, she hurried down the lawns to the quai where her transport awaited her. As he helped her into the boat, she had only a momentary pang, but then her heart soared. They were free!
“Lift your veil, madame, so I may be certain it’s you, and not your papa hiding beneath the gauze,” he teased her.
India raised the silk fabric. “ ’Tis I, my love,” she said.
The werry moved quickly down the river into the Pool, and was rowed directly to a dock at the O’Malley-Small Trading Company. Adrian Leigh climbed from the small vessel and helped India onto the dock. Leading her to a sturdy gangway before a great sailing ship, he helped her to board. India moved slowly and heavily in her guise as an elderly widow. Beneath her veiling she might have been anyone.
“Ahh, Signore di Carlo,” a cultured voice spoke, “you are right on time, sir. And this will be your aunt? My condolences, madame, on your great loss.”
“Monypenny was old. He lived a good life,” came a gravelly voice from beneath the
