words were spoken with some feeling. The Prince looked as if he would prefer them unsaid. Tempted as she was—very tempted—to pursue the matter, Constance decided not to risk a further retreat into that haughty shell of his. Her fingers strayed to her wound, which was beginning to throb.
‘Does it pain you? Will I call a physician? Has the journey exhausted you? Would you prefer to postpone this discussion until you are rested?’
‘No.’ She smiled reassuringly, for the Prince looked genuinely concerned. ‘No and no.’ Constance sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees as butterflies started up in her stomach again. ‘Please continue.’
‘Very well,’ he said brusquely. ‘First of all, I should inform you most regretfully that there were fatalities. Twenty-seven—twenty-six, now that we know you are not one of them, a small percentage from a ship’s complement of six hundred. The captain managed to steer close enough to our waters for our fishing dhows to rescue the vast majority of people on board, and to recover the bodies of all those unfortunate souls who perished. You are the only one who seems to have been swept so far from our main port. The piece of broken mast you were found clinging to in all likelihood saved your life.’
‘Is Captain Cobb among the survivors?’
‘Yes, it is from him that we gained some basic knowledge of you. Your name, your place of embarkation, your destination, and your companion for the journey. I am afraid, Lady Constance, that she was one of the souls who perished. Please accept my condolences for your loss.’
‘Oh, dear. Excuse me.’ Constance dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. ‘Mrs Peacock was returning to India to rejoin her husband after an extended visit with her family in England. Poor woman.’
‘We had assumed she was a relative.’
‘No, I met her only the day before we boarded, but I am truly sorry to hear that she has perished. My father paid her to play companion to me. We shared a cabin. It would not have been proper for me to have travelled alone.’
‘Your father is in England, then, and not in Bombay?’
‘Both my parents are in England. Why do you ask?’
Prince Kadar looked grave. ‘A full report of the fate of the Kent, its cargo, its passengers and crew, and the numerous steps my kingdom has taken to provide assistance, has already been sent to your Consul General in Cairo. I am not sure how long it will be before that report arrives in England, but I fear it will be before we can have an addendum sent.’
‘Addendum?’
‘Lady Constance, in my report you are listed as missing, presumed dead. Yours was the only body from the ship’s complement unaccounted for. As time passed it became ever more certain that you had perished, unfortunately.’
Constance stared at him in dismay. ‘You mean my mother will be informed that I have drowned?’
‘I am afraid so. And so too will whoever was to receive you in Bombay when Captain Cobb arrives to break the news.’
‘Captain Cobb? Arriving in Bombay? But...’ Her head was beginning to reel. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
‘We were most fortuitously able to provide the captain with a replacement ship. He was most anxious to reach his destination, and since all hope of finding you alive had been abandoned, there was no reason for them to delay their journey further. They set sail almost a week ago.’
‘A week! A whole week! Then there is no chance of my joining them?’
‘No chance whatsoever,’ the Prince replied with an air of finality. ‘May I ask, Lady Constance, why you were aboard the Kent? These East India ships have a very high attrition rate. Your parents must have been aware of the risks when they made arrangements for you to sail east.’
‘They were assured that I was in safe hands, since Captain Cobb enjoys an excellent reputation as one of the finest captains in the entire fleet and—and it seems it was deserved, for to only lose twenty-six lives from six hundred, when it could have been so much worse, is admirable seamanship.’
‘Assured by whom?’
‘The man who arranged my journey, who as a major shareholder is therefore extremely well versed in such matters.’
‘Ah, you mean this man is a merchant of the East India Company?’
‘Yes. Mr Gilmour Edgbaston.’
‘A relative?’
‘Not as such. Mr Edgbaston and I are— We are— The fact of the matter is that I was on my way to India to marry Mr Edgbaston,’ Constance said faintly. ‘And now when Captain Cobb arrives he will have the sad task of informing my future husband that his bride has drowned at sea.’ She swallowed a bubble of hysterical laughter. ‘You can have no idea, Your Highness, how convenient that would be if it were true.’
* * *
Having absolutely no idea at all what to make of this last remark, Kadar studied the Englishwoman in some consternation. When he had first spotted it on the list of those who had perished, Lady Constance Montgomery’s name had conjured up an image of a very proper middle-aged matron. He could not have been more wrong. The rough peasant’s tunic she wore was far too big for her slim figure. Her hair, a deep glossy brown, tumbled down over her shoulders in wild waves. There was a roundness to her cheeks, a fullness to her lips quite at odds with the rather fierce brows. Her brown eyes were wide-spaced, fringed with thick lashes. Her gaze was direct and intelligent, a striking contrast to the vulnerability of her softer features and one which Kadar found unexpectedly—and most inappropriately—beguiling.
‘You cannot mean that you wish yourself dead,’ he said, wondering if the raw pink scar on her forehead had deranged her mind.
She shook her head slowly. ‘No, no, of course I don’t mean that literally only—oh, I don’t suppose you will understand. Being a prince, I expect you are accustomed to arranging your life exactly as you wish it, but...’
‘You are mistaken,’ Kadar answered with some feeling. ‘I had a great deal more freedom when I was not a prince.’
‘Oh?’
Her gaze was curious. He was oddly tempted to explain himself, which was of course ridiculous. Instead, he found himself contemplating Lady Constance’s feet. They looked vulnerable, her dainty little toes peeping out from her tunic. But he should not be looking at her toes, dainty or otherwise. ‘You were telling me why you wished yourself dead.’
‘I was telling you that I don’t truly wish that. Only that I wish— Oh, it sounds silly now. I wish I could have remained undiscovered. Missing presumed free, so to speak.’ She gave a wry little shrug. ‘My marriage was arranged by my parents. I’ve never met Mr Edgbaston, and know very little about him at all, save his name, age and circumstances. When I left England, I thought I had resigned myself to making the best of the situation but I’ve had the whole sea voyage to—to reconsider.’
‘And while you were—what did you call it?—undiscovered you could pretend that it would never happen, is that it?’
Lady Constance nodded. ‘As I said, it was silly of me, but...’
‘But
