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After a pause, Bhadra replied. “I am satisfied with England.”
Though the maid had spoken in a noncommittal manner, Deana respected her reserved nature and did not press for more details.
Bhadra tended to her hair next.
“One does not tend to craving when grateful to be alive,” she said after some silence.
The sentiment tugged at Deana’s heart. She could not despair the inconveniences of her own situation knowing what the maid had had to endure.
“You have family back in India?”
Bhadra nodded. “My mother and grandfather. We write to each other, but letters take so very long to travel between us.”
Deana had a dozen questions at the tip of her tongue, but as this was the most the maid had spoken in one spell, she allowed Bhadra to dictate the pace.
“His lordship offered to bring my family to England, but my grandfather is too old to make the journey.”
“How kind of Baron Rockwell to have offered.”
“His lordship is beyond generous.”
Bhadra spoke with a wistfulness that made Deana suspect that the maid had some tender feelings toward Rockwell. She considered her own experiences with the man and his gift to her of the ivory elephant. While it was true he had the means that made generosity easier, he had had no obligation to do what he had for Bhadra. Despite her earlier anger with his lack of position when it came to Company policy, deep in her bosom she knew he could not possess any evil or he would not have been able to arouse her as he had.
“My mother had watched over him since his days in leading strings,” Bhadra added.
Deana smiled at the thought of a young Rockwell and was about to ask what sort of boy Rockwell had been, but a knock at the door interrupted them.
The Baron was dressed simply in white trousers, a high cravat, and dark cut-away dress coat with high collars. Deana felt a twinge of vanity knowing that she would be escorted to dinner by such a fine specimen of man. From his appreciative appraisal of her, she could be satisfied that she did him some justice as well. He presented an elegant arm. She slid her own between its crook, her heart palpitating a little more rapidly. Perhaps it was the dress, or his fine manners, or the triumph that came from having pleased his eye when no doubt he crossed paths with women who had her countenance tenfold, that made her feel rather like a princess.
The dining room proved more intimate than Deana predicted from such a stately structure, but she found the lack of fancy appealing. The table was adorned simply with two vases of roses spaced perfectly so as not to obstruct view and discourse across the table and china that gleamed with luxury but averted the ostentatious. The proprietress, wearing a feathered tocque and large gold hoop earrings, presided at the head of the table. To her left sat a pretty young woman who seemed to have eyes only for Madame. To her right sat an officer of His Majesty’s Army in full regimentals. Beside him was a brunette who could not stop giggling.
Though she did not think to find anyone she knew, Deana was relieved to find her hope confirmed. After seeing her to her chair, Rockwell took his seat opposite her. Lord Devon and Lady Isabella were similarly situated across the table from one other with the former beside Deana and the latter beside the Baron. Deana could not help wonder if that had been by design. A server came to pour her a glass of wine. She glanced at Rockwell, who nodded his head ever so slightly.
Sitting across the table, Lady Isabella appeared nothing short of radiant in a gown of embroidered tulle, breasts pushed high above the décolletage as to almost touch her chin. She leaned in close to Rockwell and spoke in low tones. Unable to hear, Deana could only observe Rockwell respond with equal intimacy. Lady Isabella smiled. Deana took a long sip of her wine.
“Miss Sherwood,” Lady Isabella said, “I could not help but think on the remark you made regarding gaming hells. Are you yourself a patron of gaming hells?”
Her ladyship arched a shapely eyebrow. Deana smiled politely. “With such frequency, they could pass as a second home.”
Their exchange perked the interest of others around them.
“You must be an accomplished gamer,” Lord Devon noted.
“Lady Luck has been more often gracious than not.”
She felt but avoided the gaze of Rockwell.
“How refreshing that your admittance is given so freely. You must be quite daring to be an unmarried woman patronizing a gaming hall,” Lady Isabella commented before turning to Rockwell. “I had no idea you trolled such places.”
“If my gracious hostess will allow,” Deana said, “what infamy may come from frequenting a gaming hall could hardly be compared with a visit here.”
“Too true, my dear!” cried Madame Follet, “and I should be deeply saddened if my Chateau could not best a gaming hell.”
The guests chuckled. Lady Isabella did not laugh but maintained a tight smile.
“How interesting you are, Miss Sherwood,” she purred. “Pray tell us more about yourself.”
“On the contrary, I am most uninteresting.”
