Forbidden Jewel of India

* * *

‘So you are Anusha! Welcome to Calcutta, my dear.’

‘Ma’am.’ Anusha dropped a curtsy. It felt very odd, her legs were still shaky after last night—the only thing that convinced her it had not all been a dream—but apparently it was correct, for Lady Hoskins smiled and nodded in approval.

‘What a charming young lady, Sir George. I am sure we will get along famously, will we not, Anusha? How is your English? Do we need an interpreter and a tutor?’

‘No, ma’am.’ She dragged her thoughts away from memories of Nick’s naked body, of his hands, his mouth... This was nothing to do with Nick, this was all about her father’s plans for her and she must be constantly on the alert. But when she saw him again, would he say anything? Could he possibly have discovered that he loved her, too? No, do not hope.

‘I recall my English from before I was sent away, and I spoke it often with my mother.’ That was deliberately tactless. She noticed her father’s lips draw tight and Lady Hoskins shift as though uneasy. Anusha kept her face innocently blank. She was not going to mention talking to Nick in English, she had no wish to compromise herself, not yet at any rate. Later it might be useful. Later I might not be able to help myself.

‘Er...excellent. And your maid is satisfactory? She has turned you out very well this morning.’

‘Thank you, I am very happy with her.’ Anusha knew she had been difficult enough that morning to excuse outright mutiny on the part of Nadia as the maid had patiently dressed her in chemise and corset, petticoats, more petticoats to make her skirts bell out, stocking, garters and shoes that pinched her toes. And over the top of it a gown in cotton chintz with wide skirts and a tight bodice and sleeves. How anyone was expected to move in all this she had no idea—standing still and curtsying were simple by comparison.

‘A new hairstyle is the first priority.’ Lady Hoskins circled her. ‘That weight of hair is impossible to do anything with.’

‘I do not wish to have my hair cut, ma’am.’ But the older woman was already gesturing to the maid. Before she could protest further, the plait was undone and shaken loose.

‘It waves, it is an interesting colour, but we must have at least a foot off it. More, perhaps.’

My hair, my beautiful hair! It reached below her hips when it was loose. She’d had fantasies of letting it hang over Nick’s naked body, of sweeping it back and forth until he... But that was when he had not known how keenly she desired him—he would avoid her now, she feared.

‘Very well.’ Whatever it took to lull her father into believing she meant to stay, meant to be a dutiful daughter. Anusha watched him from the corner of her eye. He was taking more of an interest in Lady Hoskin’s attempts to turn her into an English lady than he had in anything else about his long-lost daughter, she thought resentfully.

‘Excellent. Then, Sir George, with your permission, I will send for my coiffeuse and my maid and together we will deal with the question of hair and go through Anusha’s wardrobe. I thought dinner at our house tonight? Just a small gathering of twenty to get her into the way of things.’

Anusha found that she was gazing hopefully at her father’s retreating back, as though he might turn round and rescue her. But of course he did no such thing and, of course, she did not wish him to. What she wanted was to ask where Nick was, why he had not been at breakfast.

‘Now, the first thing is to lace that corset properly,’ Lady Hoskins said, advancing on her as the door closed. ‘Your figure is far too natural.’ Anusha clenched her fists and managed to smile.

* * *

‘I declare it is a positive age since you came to any parties, Major Herriard. I was saying only the other day to my sister that we must quite give you up, which is such a pity, for we are always in need of handsome men in red coats.’ The elder Miss Wilkinson finished this piece of inanity with a giggle and batted her eyelashes at him over the top of her fan. It was a pretty fan and a pair of charming blue eyes and she knew it.

Nick managed a smile through gritted teeth. To think that he had spent hours sailing down the Ganges instructing Anusha in how to produce just such pointless chit-chat! At the thought of her his groin tightened and he forced his concentration back to the women in front of him—they aroused no desires at all.

‘Alas, duty calls only too often, Miss Wilkinson, and drags us poor men away from the delightful company of Calcutta’s ladies.’

That was apparently an acceptable response. Miss Wilkinson moved a little closer and then, to his surprise, gestured to a group of young ladies nearby. Nick found himself surrounded.