"But camping is stimulating," she replied with a smile. "We've been looking forward to it for weeks. Father says that touring the district is the most important part of his job."
Eyes downcast, Emery stirred sugar into his tea. "I... we'll miss you and your father here at the station."
"We'll be back before you know it," she said briskly.
"Not until almost Christmas." He hesitated, as if trying to work himself up to say something important.
"With pig-sticking season coming, I'm sure you'll be busy," Laura said, craftily changing the subject. "Father said you've gotten a wonderful new horse from an Afghan trader?"
Emery brightened and began describing his new mount, a topic that saw them safely through the tea and cakes. Laura sipped and nodded at the appropriate places, but most of her attention was on the unwelcome knowledge that sooner or later, in spite of her attempts to keep him at bay, Emery would offer marriage.
There was nothing very complimentary about such an offer, for at least half the British bachelors she had met in India had proposed to her. European girls were so scarce that even the most horse-faced and sharp-tongued received their share of proposals.
Though an offer seemed inevitable, she preferred to postpone it as long as possible because her refusal would create awkwardness. The handful of Britons in Baipur saw a great deal of each other, and anything that caused tension was to be avoided.
She might be tempted to accept, for Emery was amiable and very good-looking. More than once she had caught herself thinking that he was not at all like Edward, so perhaps it would be safe to marry him. It would be a pleasure to have his strong arms around her, to feel his lips and his hands...
Whenever her thoughts reached that point, speculation was drowned by a wave of panic. The problem was not Emery, but her, and marriage was out of the question.
Finishing her tea, she stood and offered her hand. "I don't want to seem rude, Emery, but I must get back to work. Otherwise we may find ourselves deep in the country without tea, or quinine, or something equally essential."
"If you need anything, send me a message and I'll see that it's sent immediately." The magistrate clung to her hand, not wanting to release her. "Laura... there's something I must say."
Before he could say more, salvation appeared in the form of Laura's stepfather. As Kenneth Stephenson climbed the steps to the veranda, his perceptive gaze evaluated the tableau and a glint of amusement appeared in his light blue eyes. "Good day, Emery. You're just leaving?"
The young man flushed and released Laura's hand. "Yes. I... I only stopped by to wish you both a good journey." His longing gaze touched Laura for a moment before he turned away. "I'll look forward to your return."
As the young man collected his horse and rode away, Laura ordered another tray of refreshments. "You came in the nick of time, Father. I think Emery was about to declare himself."
His voice serious, Kenneth Stephenson said, "You could do much worse. He's a bit callow, but he'll make some girl an excellent husband. He comes of a good family, he has an easy disposition, and he's very good at his work. He'll go far."
"The farther the better," Laura said lightly. "I'd rather stay with you. You're much better company."
Her stepfather smiled a little wistfully. "You should find a husband and have a family of your own, Laura."
It was an old argument. "You're my family," she retorted. "You need me to take care of you and see that you eat properly."
He toyed with one of the crisp jelabis. "I won't always be with you, my dear."
Concerned at his tone, Laura studied her stepfather's face. It was easy to overlook the subtle changes in someone she saw every day. It was a shock to realize how thin he had become, how many lines there were in his sun-browned skin, and how his hair was now more gray than brown. He was older than most district officers, and living in India was arduous even for those who were young and strong. "You work too hard. Perhaps it's time for you to retire so we can go back to England."
"How do you really feel about India?" he asked. "I'd be content to spend the rest of my life here, but it's a hard life for a young woman. I sometimes wonder if you're just pretending to be happy so I won't feel guilty about bringing you here."
"You didn't 'bring' me—I insisted on coming with you, remember?" Laura gazed absently at the lush green countryside as she considered what to say. "I'm not sorry to live here. The land and people are fascinating, and I understand why you love them so. Yet even after five years, I find this country alien. I'll never understand it."