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ChapterFour
Accepting Lady Vegas’s invitation to tea was the greatest risk Priya had ever taken in her life, and that was saying something.
“I do not like this,” Jeetan grumbled as he paced behind her in the hall of the townhouse their father had rented for them near Bedford Square as Priya fastened a hat to her hair. “I do not think Father would like this either.”
“Then why did you not forbid me to go?” Priya asked with a sigh.
She dropped her arms and stared at her reflection. It didn’t matter how many times she’d tried to pin her hat or straighten the light coat she wore over her tea dress, it didn’t matter how much time she’d taken to ensure that her appearance was as conservative as possible, she felt as though she would stand out by a mile in the refined neighborhood of Mayfair.
Perhaps Jeetan was right and this was a bad idea after all.
“I could not turn down an invitation from a marchioness,” Jeetan muttered behind her, still pacing. “Nor from an earl, though I dislike the man excessively.”
Priya pursed her lips and frowned at her brother in the hall mirror, telling herself that she knew precisely how he felt.
The trouble was, she didn’t share his feelings on the matter, as much as she wanted to. She’d battled against it, used every argument of reason and logic she could think of, and swore to herself at least a dozen times in the last two days that she would send her regrets to Lady Vegas in order to avoid even the chance of encountering Lord Cathraiche again, but the truth continued to wheedle its way through her heart and stare her in the face.
She liked Lord Cathraiche. She liked him despite every bit of logic that told her she should despise the man. He was clearly trying to woo her for some reason—likely a nefarious one. But he was clever and charming, and she would have to be excessively stupid not to see that he was astoundingly handsome as well.
And if there was one thing Priya knew she was not, it was stupid.
And yet, there were times when she knew she was behaving foolishly.
“We should go,” she said, turning away from the mirror and heading to the door without looking at her brother. “I cannot keep a marchioness waiting.”
She had wanted to travel to Mayfair on her own. She was more than capable of making the journey of a few blocks unaccompanied. She could have walked the distance in half the time it would take for a carriage to drive her. But Jeetan had insisted on accompanying her, at least up to Lady Vegas’s doorstep.
“You must deport yourself modestly,” he lectured her once the two of them were seated side-by-side in the carriage their father had purchased for their use while they were in London. “You must not speak of things that Lady Vegas does not want to know about.”
Priya sent her brother a sideways look. He didn’t want her to talk about her opinions on the advancement of women, but that was precisely why Lady Vegas had invited her to tea.
“You must not say anything untoward about our family or our kingdom,” Jeetan went on. “The British already think we are little more than children, and it will help nothing if you perpetuate that wrong idea.”
“I know,” Priya said. That was one thing she and her brother agreed on. She would make her homeland proud, one way or another.
“You must promise me that if Lord Cathraiche arrives to attend his mother, you will leave at once,” Jeetan went on. “It is bad enough for me to leave you unchaperoned at the home of a lady you have only just met, but I cannot allow you to stay there if her son is there as well.”
Again, Priya sent Jeetan a flat look. “If you are so determined to maintain an appearance of propriety, why are you not staying to take tea with us as my chaperone?”
Jeetan hunched his shoulders a bit and looked sullen. “Nothing bores me more than tea with old women,” he said. “And besides, some of the lads from university have plans to attend a horse race this afternoon.”
Priya couldn’t help but grin. Jeetan might have been the next Maharaja of Koch Bihar, but at the moment, he was a wealthy young man away from home for the first time. Of course, he would misbehave when given half a chance.
She should be allowed her freedom as well, though she knew full well there were extenuating circumstances for her.
As if to underline those circumstances, as soon as the carriage drew to a stop in front of Rathborne House, Jeetan reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief.
“You will wear this as a reminder of where your duty lies,” he said, shifting on the carriage seat to face Priya.
At first, Priya frowned. But when Jeetan unwrapped the huge, gaudy, ruby brooch in his handkerchief, she groaned.
“No, Jeetan, I can’t,” she said, a bit too much of a whine in her voice. “That thing is horrid.”
“That thing, as you call it, is a token from Jogendra Dev Raikut,” Jeetan said, fastening the brooch to the high collar of Priya’s blouse, despite her protests. “It is a reminder of why you cannot foster any closer acquaintance with these people than you already have.”
Priya sighed and slumped. She was certain the gesture made her look small and sad. Those were not the emotions she felt when she touched the sharp-edged gems of the brooch, though. What she felt was anxiety and doom. What she felt was trapped and alone.
In sharp contrast to those feelings, Jeetan leaned in to kiss her cheek. “You are a beautiful woman, Priya,” he said, fraternal fondness in his eyes. “You are a queen.”
Priya gulped and nodded. She even managed a weak smile for her brother. Jeetan was young and full of himself, but he did love her. And she loved him.
“Thank you, Jeet,” she said, calling him by the name she’d used when they were small children.
Jeetan stepped down from the carriage and helped her out. He even walked her to the door and waited until the butler answered.
But as soon as Jeetan turned around and stepped back into the carriage, as soon as Priya stepped into the house, handed her coat and hat over to the butler, then waited for the man to announce her to Lady Vegas and Lady Dorrington, she unfastened the brooch and slipped it into the small reticule she caried with her. The very last thing she wanted in that moment was a garish monstrosity that reminded her of Jogendra Raikut and all the reasons she was out of her mind for doing even a fraction of what she was doing.
“Right this way, miss,” the butler said, gesturing for her to follow him deeper into the house.
Priya put on the sort of smile she thought a curious and progressively-inclined marchioness would find pleasing and followed the man.
That smile vanished the second she stepped into a beautiful, formal parlor and found not only Lady Vegas and Lady Dorrington, but Lord Cathraiche as well.
“Miss Narayan, my lady” the butler introduced her.
Priya’s heart hammered against her ribs as she stared at Lord Cathraiche. Not ten minutes earlier, Jeetan had ordered her to leave if the man appeared at tea. Teas were for ladies to enjoy each other’s company, not for men to intervene. She should have turned around and marched right out of the house.
Instead, she dragged her eyes away from Lord Cathraiche and smiled at his mother and aunt.
“Thank you so much for inviting me, Lady Vegas,” she said, falling back on the regal manners that had been instilled in her by her ayah from an early age. “You have a lovely home.”
Lady Vegas made a sound that could have been a laugh, or that could have been a huff. “It is my son’s home now, though I have been mistress of it for these thirty years.” She gestured for Priya to take a seat on a chair across from the sofa where she and Lady Dorrington sat. As Priya did, resting her reticule on her lap, she went on with, “But I suppose you and your modern ways know all about the frustrations of having the things we know to be our own taken from us by the men in our lives.”
