Toward the end of the afternoon, the derzi that David had summoned came and measured Laura for her ball gown. Then she thumbed through his motley assortment of fashion plates. Wanting Ian to be proud of her, she selected a gown that was more stylish than her usual conservative garb. It was hard to choose among the derzi's fabric swatches, for he had some gorgeous materials. Eventually she settled on a luscious blue silk that shimmered with subtle peacock highlights.
It had been a full day, but it turned out that there was one last visitor in store. Bhawar came and announced, "There is a female who wishes to speak to Falkirk Sahib. When told he was from home, she asked to speak to the sahib's wife."
"Send her in." To Laura's surprise, the visitor was a young Indian woman with a child in her arms. Dressed in a threadbare but neat crimson sari, she was very lovely.
The young woman set her child down, then pressed her hands together and bowed her head over them in the traditional Indian greeting. "Namaste. I am Leela. You are the wife of Major Cameron Sahib?" She spoke English, and spoke it rather well.
Laura returned the greeting. "Namaste, Leela. I am Mrs. Cameron. Is there something I can help you with? If you prefer to speak to my husband, he will be home soon. You may wait, or call again after dinner.''
Leela debated for a moment, then shook her head and gestured at the little boy who clung to the skirt of her sari. "My son would be restless waiting. Please, lady, will you ask Cameron Sahib to call on me? It is most important that I speak to him."
Laura glanced at the boy, then froze, her stomach twisting. The child was perhaps a year and a half old, and he was Eurasian, with a complexion several shades lighter than that of his mother.
She studied the child's face intently, looking for a resemblance to Ian. Well-cut features, a strong jaw—it was quite possible that the boy had a Scottish father.
Lips stiff, Laura said, "I shall give my husband the message. Does he know where you live?"
"Tell him that I am in the same place. He will know. Thank you, lady. Please, do not forget. My need is great." Then Leela bowed, hoisted her son in her arms, and left.
* * *
Laura was curled in a chair in the shadowed sitting room when her husband returned a little later.
"It's dark in here." Ian struck a match and lit one of the lamps. "Dinner won't be for a couple of hours. David wanted to spend some time with his company. Though he got excused from duty for today and tomorrow, he doesn't like to neglect his men.''
After hanging his topi by the door, Ian kissed Laura on the forehead. "You look tired. Were you overwhelmed by army wives? I should have overruled David and stayed with you."
Laura surveyed her husband. His time with his brother must have been rewarding, for he looked relaxed again. "The parade of visitors started with Mrs. Baskin," she said flatly, "who wanted to know what you were like in bed."
Ian stepped back as if she'd slapped him. "Sorry you had to face that," he said after regaining his composure. "Even for Blanche Baskin, it's an unusually crude remark. Blanche isn't really a bad sort, though shocking people is her greatest pleasure in life. After her, other visitors must have seemed like models of propriety."
"Quite. Especially the Indian woman who was here a few minutes ago. Leela, her name was. I gather that she's an old and dear friend of yours." Laura's eyes narrowed. "She had a little boy with her, perhaps eighteen months old, and half European if I'm any judge. Leela asked that you call on her. I gather that it's a matter of some urgency. She said that she still lives in the same place, and that you would know where."
As Laura spoke, the atmosphere between them solidified, twanging with tension. "I see." Ian's face was as opaque as granite. "I'll call on her now. Her cottage isn't far."
"Very thoughtful of you," Laura said, making no attempt to keep the edge from her tone.
Ian picked up his topi. "Laura...," he said hesitantly, then stopped, as if not sure what to say next.
"Don't waste time here. I'm sure that Leela is anxiously awaiting your visit." Laura got to her feet and stalked to their bedroom, closing the door with elaborate care.
With her husband was safely out of earshot, she lifted a pillow from the chair and hurled it across the room, where it knocked a startled lizard from the wall. Ian might have been a stickler about not committing adultery with army wives, but little Leela was proof that he was a man, with a man's needs. At least, Laura thought savagely, he had been. Given what had happened to him in prison, she didn't have to worry about him bedding his old mistress during his evening's visit.
Shock at the wickedness of her thought extinguished Laura's anger, leaving only hurt behind. She pushed aside the mosquito netting and curled up on the bed, reminding herself that even if Leela had been Ian's mistress, it had been long before he had met Laura. But reason did nothing to assuage her sense of betrayal.