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They were just finishing dinner when Rahaib entered the room with his customary impassive expression. He bowed, glancing at Marie.
'A message from the palace,' he said, handing her an envelope with great gravity.
She opened it, guessing who it would be from. Stonor had not wasted words. The scrawled, impatient writing merely said: Come here at once. There was not even a signature.
Marie looked up, flushing. 'How did the message get here?'
'By car,' Rahaib told her. 'It waits outside to take you to the palace.'
'To the palace?' Jess raised her brows. 'To see the King?'
'No,' said Marie. 'Stonor Grey wants to see me.'
'Is he at the palace now? He must have some pull.' Jess stood up, pushing back her chair. 'It's rather late to issue invitations, though.'
Marie hesitated, longing to say she would not go, but knew she could not rest in peace until she had discovered what Stonor wanted.
'I think I should go,' she said. 'He may need help.'
Jess shrugged, 'Do as you like, Marie.' She sauntered away, losing interest, and Marie glanced down at her denims and shirt.
'I must change first,' she told Rahaib.
'Yes, my lady,' he said. He did not approve of her jeans—he made that clear every time he saw them, without saying a word.
She went to her room and found a cream silk dress which looked very good on her without making it seem as if she had particularly dressed up for this visit. She brushed her hair up into a chignon, applied new makeup and put on shoes which matched the dress.
The car sped to the palace along the dark, dusty roads. In the distance a jackal howled, making the hair stand up on the back of her neck. The headlights lit up the road ahead, making ghostly circles in the white dust.
When they entered the market area Marie was surprised to find it still crowded, despite the late hour. The stalls were lit by naphtha flares. The hawkers still shouted their wares, and the smell of food was stronger than ever. Only the old women no longer gossiped around the well, and there were fewer children about to stare at the car.
She was escorted through the marble corridors of the palace to a room on an upper floor. The servant indicated the door, bowed and took up a crouching position opposite it, apparently prepared to sit and wait until she appeared again.
Marie tapped on the door.
'Come in,' Stonor called.
She went into the room and found him lying on a low couch, his head and shoulders cushioned, the shutters covering the windows and a lamp burning softly beside him, making a dim circle of yellow light around the couch.
She stared at him hungrily, tracing the shadows under his eyes, the hint of weariness in his posture. He still looked ill, but there had been an improvement since she last saw him.
'Well, come here,' he said sharply. 'I can't see you over there.'
She moved over towards him, halting a few feet from the couch. 'What did that rather peremptory message mean?' she enquired coldly.
'What do you mean by staying away from me for two days?' he demanded in return.
Her heart thudded. 'Did you expect me to haunt your sickbed?' she asked huskily.
'I expected you to keep up our little fiction about my presence in Jedhpur being on your account,' he retorted.
'Oh,' she murmured, feeling angrily disillusioned. 'That's it.'
He eyed her enigmatically. 'Don't loom over me like that. Sit down.'
Marie looked around, but there was nowhere to sit. He patted the couch invitingly. 'Here…' he commanded.
She hesitated.
