“It’s a matter of some expediency, sahib, sir,” the boy stammered, and Rhystan frowned at the Eastern form of address he’d heard frequently when he’d been stationed as an officer.

“Who is your lady? Lady Lockton, you said?”

“Lady Lockhart, Captain.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, though he could not place it. Then again, he hadn’t set foot on English shores in a while. All the names of the peerage sounded the same. “Tell your mistress to speak with Captain Brooks. He sails the day after next.”

“That’s too late.”

“Why does she wish to leave so desperately?”

“There’s been a death in the family. Your ship is the soonest on the ledger.”

The reason struck an unexpected chord of understanding and sympathy within him. Death had a way of upsetting everything. This unknown lady was racing against time for closure, while he was doing the same, only he was trying to beat the clock to get to his purportedly ailing mother in time. Rhystan could empathize more than anyone.

The boy must have noticed his hesitation because he started forward and bowed deeply. “I implore you, sahib. Please, reconsider.”

“Where are you from?” Rhystan asked, curious.

“Joor,” the boy replied and then gulped as if it was something he shouldn’t have disclosed.

But Rhystan was too stunned to dwell on his reaction. Joor. What were the odds?

Unwanted and unwelcome memories, long buried from Rhystan’s youth, rushed up to greet him. He shook himself hard and ground his jaw. What was in the past was in the past. He hadn’t thought about Joor—or what had happened there—in years. And for good reason.

A feminine lilt rose in his head: I’m yours, Rhystan.

He throttled the recollections with brute force. Sarani Rao had never been his, not when she’d jilted him for an earl. Rhystan appreciated the irony, considering he now held the most venerated title of the English aristocracy, a half decade too late. Joor and that faithless princess were parts of his past that needed to remain dead and forgotten.

“Captain Brooks of the Voyager,” he said to the servant, dismissing him and turning on his heel. “Tell him I sent you.”

* * *

Sneaking onto a ship in the dead of night wasn’t ideal. Or ladylike. Or sane.

Especially for one newly nascent Lady Sara Lockhart. But Sarani was desperate, and since the Belonging was the only one on the manifest leaving Bombay for England in short order, she didn’t have much choice.

Tej had explained that the captain had been inflexible. Sarani would have gone herself to beg, cajole, or argue, but she was short of options and time. And she couldn’t shake the sensation that one of Vikram’s men had followed them from Joor.

“Where is the captain now?” she whispered to Tej.

“At the tavern with his men.”

“Are you certain the ship is unguarded?”