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ChapterFifteen
For Francis’s plan to convince Narayan that he was a better option for Priya than Raikut, it was necessary to bring the man into his home. It was actually his mother’s idea to host the musical evening, not only for Narayan’s benefit, but so that she herself could exhibit to her friends—and those who had doubted her—that without Lord Vegas’s heavy hand pressing down on her, she could be one of the brightest luminaries of the London social scene.
“I only wish I had some sort of guarantee this will work,” Francis commented to the tight circle of his family members—his mother, Joseph, Dean, and, of course, his mother’s trump card, Nan—as they watched the specially invited guests arrive for the evening. “The maharaja must be convinced that Priya’s greatest chance for happiness will be with me and not Raikut.”
His mother hummed, taking his hand and patting it sympathetically. “I do so enjoy seeing you give your heart away at last, my dear,” she said. “But once again, I advise caution in this matter. To assume that your beloved’s father will be bowled over by a display of class and influence is a very British assumption to make. The maharaja may very well believe other things besides titles and the number of members of parliament who will accept our invitation to be important for Miss Narayan’s happiness.”
As she spoke, she nodded across the room to where MP Edward Archibald was engaged in a conversation with Mr. Martin Piper, one of Dean’s friends from the Concord Theater, and Miss Ellen Garrett, the cattle baron’s daughter from Wyoming. Joseph had blanched when he’d learned his mother had invited Miss Garrett—who had proclaimed openly that she’d come to England to find a husband, and who had taken a decided interest in Joseph, much to Joseph’s alarm—but Francis rather thought the addition of as many wealthy foreigners as possible was a good thing.
He’d issued an invitation to Prince Petrus personally when the two of them had gone to Francis’s club the other day, but for some reason, Petrus had shied away from the idea of entering Francis’s home. But that was a riddle to solve some other day.
“Don’t worry, Francis,” Nan told Francis with a charming laugh, resting a hand on his arm. “If what your mother tells me about Mr. Raikut is true, he will be so dazzled by my fame and fortune that he will voluntarily release Miss Narayan from this pseudo-marriage himself.”
Francis sent his sister-in-law a grateful smile, even though he doubted Nan had that much power. The woman’s prestige had only grown since she’d revealed to the world she wasn’t, in fact, French and that she’d been playing a role all along. Whether Raikut—or Narayan, for that matter—knew her and Dean’s story or whether Nan was nothing more than another entertainer to them, she was charming. Any advantage it gave them was a good one.
Francis wished he could have hours more to plan the perfect evening for his purposes, but everything rushed to a head when Priya made her entrance into the conservatory. She was radiant in the full costume of her native land, bedecked in jewels, some sort of red pigment in the parting of her hair. The sari made her stand out, but not as much as her natural beauty…or the clear anxiety in her expression as she searched the room for Francis.
Unfortunately, Priya was flanked by her father, brother, and Raikut. Raikut seemed dazzled by the display of opulence and society that Francis’s mother and Aunt Josephine had been certain to decorate the conservatory with, but Narayan and his son hovered by Priya’s sides like bulldogs.
Francis frowned. He needed to get Priya alone for at least a few moments during the evening. He regretted that they hadn’t been able to speak when he’d gone to her house to issue the invitation. Not only had he intended to ascertain how she was getting on with all the strain and strife around her—and, perhaps, to ask whether there were any lingering results of their night in Brighton—but after overhearing the conversation that she’d been a part of when he’d arrived, he wanted to discover what that had all been about.
Singling Priya out for those conversations didn’t seem particularly likely…yet.
Francis’s mother sent him a look as if to communicate she was ready to go into battle, then she stepped away from their group to greet the new arrivals.
“Maharaja Narayan, Raja Raikut, Mr. Narayan and Miss Narayan,” she said with all the graciousness of the queen. “Welcome to our humble home.”
“Marchioness Vegas,” Raikut said, immediately stepping forward and clasping Francis’s mother’s hands in his. “How splendid it is for us all to be here this evening. I have never attended a musical event before in my life, but I have read all about them in your fabulous literature.”
Francis’s mother’s mouth twitched as she tried to maintain her composure in the face of Raikut’s enthusiasm. “You honor me by saying so, sir.”
“I was just telling your esteemed husband yesterday that I have so much to learn about the British aristocracy, and so much to experience,” Raikut went on.
Francis’s mother’s smile dropped. “You’ve been speaking with my husband?”
“Yes. He is quite diverting,” Raikut said. “He says the most amusing things.”
Francis frowned at that. His father was anything but amusing. He wondered what the substance of Raikut’s conversations with him could have possibly been.
It hardly mattered in the moment, though. What mattered just then was impressing Narayan and stealing Priya away from him.
“Welcome to my home, sir,” he said, approaching Narayan as the lord and master of all he surveyed, but also as a welcoming host. “It is our pleasure to have you here this evening.”
“Indeed,” Narayan said, his back straight and his brow furrowed. He glanced around, his lip slightly curled. “Is this all?” he asked.
Francis scowled. Rathborne House was nothing to sneer at. It was one of the finest properties in Mayfair. Despite the financial hardship Lord Vegas had thrown them all into, he’d been able to maintain the elegance and comfort of his home. Narayan was clearly playing the same game of nonchalance that Lord Vegas was and pretending not to be impressed.
“This is merely the conservatory, sir,” he said, pretending far more acquiescence than he felt. “My home has several more parlors, two dining rooms, a library, and my private office, not to mention over a dozen rooms upstairs.”
“I see.” Narayan sniffed outright at that. “My palace in Koch Bihar has fifty private rooms and over a dozen public rooms much larger than this, as well as extensive gardens.”
Francis clenched his jaw. The man wasn’t going to give him an inch. “I also have an estate that fits that description in Hampshire.” He was getting nowhere with Narayan, so he switched tactics. “Raja Raikut, have you had a chance to do more sightseeing?”
“Oh, yes, a great deal,” Raikut said as Francis gestured for them all to move deeper into the conservatory. “Yesterday, your esteemed father, Marquess Vegas, took me on a tour of racecourses in the area. We made several bets, and do you know, I won!”
Francis fought not to close his eyes. He could only imagine that his father had taken Raikut to places where he could make bets, and the bastard had probably found a way to pocket the profits, if there had been any, as well.
The conversation was instantly abandoned when Raikut gasped at the sight of Nan and said, “Good gracious, is that the famous actress, Nanette D’Argent?”
“Yes,” Francis’s mother said, sweeping in and directing Raikut toward Nan. “She has recently married my son, Dean. Let me introduce you.”
As Raikut, Narayan and his mother moved forward, Francis attempted to take advantage of the splitting of Narayan’s party to step closer to Priya. Priya glanced toward him as well, the eagerness to get away and have a moment with Francis clear in her eyes. But no sooner had Francis inched toward Priya than her brother stepped between them.
“Do not even try,” Jeetan said in a low growl.
Francis let out a frustrated breath and backed off. “I do not know what you mean,” he said, though without any enthusiasm, because they all knew precisely what he meant.
Jeetan narrowed his eyes before taking his sister’s hand and pushing her on to where their father and Raikut had gone.
The only consolation Francis had was that Priya immediately glared at her brother and yanked her hand out of his, saying, “Don’t you dare. I am not some toy to be pushed around by a boy in leading strings.”
Jeetan’s eyes went wide, but Priya’s glare was too much for him to stand up to. He hunched his shoulders and shuffled the rest of the way to Narayan and Raikut.
Francis’s mother was in the process of introducing them to Nan—who was playing her part excellently as usual and keeping the two older men thoroughly distracted. Priya and her brother joined them, but Priya glanced back to Francis with a look that said she was desperate to get away.
