Some Enchanted Evening

After a few steps, however, she turned and glanced over her shoulder to Francis with a desperate look. It felt as though she’d lost the battle and would never see him again. Francis stared back at her with a look she was certain was supposed to be reassuring, but Priya still felt as though she’d let her last chance slip away.

That feeling only grew as her brother drew her out of the conservatory and into the hall, where they waited for their father and Jogendra. Part of Priya hoped that her father and Jogendra would take their time and speak to as many of Lady Vegas’s other guests as possible. That way, she might come up with a way to break free of Jeetan and to steal some time alone with Francis to decide what to do next.

She was disappointed when, after only a few minutes, her father and Jogendra joined them in the hallway.

“We are going home,” her father said.

When Priya moved and opened her mouth as if to appeal to him, he held up a hand, silencing her.

She remained silenced the whole way through fetching their coats and hats, then through the ride back to their rented townhouse. She wanted to speak, but Jogendra spent the whole time relating each conversation he’d had to the three of them, as if his voice were the only thing holding back the tide of anger and reprisals that felt ready to burst through the Narayan family.

Finally, when they returned to the house, removed their hats and coats, and stepped into the family parlor, Priya could hold her tongue no more.

“I must speak,” she said, breaking the uneasy silence that they’d all entered the room with.

“I know what you are going to say, beti, so you can save your breath by not speaking,” her father said, pressing his fingertips to his temples.

“And go to my room?” Priya suggested. “Should I be treated as a child simply because what I want in my life is not the same as what you want?”

“Priya!” her father snapped.

“Now, now, Jitendra,” Jogendra said, gesturing with his hands for calm. “Let little Priya speak.”

Again, the bittersweet feeling of having the man who stood in the way of her finding happiness with Francis speaking up as her defender twisted Priya’s gut. She nodded gratefully to Jogendra, then stepped in front of her father, facing him defiantly.

“If you know what I am going to say, then you know that I love Lord Cathraiche,” she said. It felt as though she’d flung herself off a cliff with that declaration. There was no turning back and no concealing the truth now, even if she had wanted to. “I love him,” she repeated, “and he loves me. He wishes to marry me.”

“You are already married,” Jeetan reminded her.

Priya glared at him so hard that Jeetan stepped back.

Her father, on the other hand, went from pressing his fingertips to his temples to rubbing his entire face with both hands.

“You do not love the earl, beti,” he said, as if forcing himself to have patience. “It is an infatuation.”

“It is love, Father. True love,” she insisted.

Her father pulled his hands away from his face and used them to gesture at her, as if she’d proven his point. “Only an impetuous young girl would speak of such things as true love. You have read too many books, Priya. You are mistaking flights of fancy for love and flying in the face of duty as you do it.”

“Just because you do not believe in love does not mean it does not exist,” Priya said, balling her hands into fists to contain her frustration. “I love Francis and he loves me. He wishes to marry me. He has gone out of his way in the last few days to prove to you that he is worthy of my affection and my hand.”

“We’ve barely seen the man,” Jeetan argued, throwing his arms out. “You hardly know him. How can you claim to love a man when you hardly know him?”

“You have known Jogendra since you were a girl,” her father added to Jeetan’s argument.

“I have had more interaction with Lord Cathraiche than you know,” Priya said, fighting not to shout. “And yes, Jogendra has been your friend, Father, for most of my life, but that is the only way in which I know him, as your friend.”

Priya sent an apologetic look to Jogendra. He was the incongruous element in the whole argument. She didn’t dislike him. If Francis had never come into her life, she might have been content to be his wife. But now he was merely an impediment to her.

Jogendra said nothing. He watched the argument with an unreadable look in his eyes.

Priya turned back to her father. “Would you really deny me this chance to be happy?” she asked, trying to be calmer. “When there is a man, an English earl, who loves me and whom I love? Would you really deny me a life beyond anything I could have expected?”

“How do I know this young man’s words are more than just words?” her father argued. “He has not been honest with me from the start. He has not spoken to me about your hand, he has not attempted to make proper inquiries about you at all.”

“Because you brought Jogendra with you,” Priya explained.

“He is your husband,” Jeetan reminded her.

“The marriage isn’t legal,” Priya snapped back at him.

“How dare you say that?” their father gasped. “All of the proper rites were performed. The marriage ceremony was witnessed by dozens of people.”

“But I was not there for it,” Priya said. She sent Jogendra a guilty look, then said, “Our marriage is not legal in England.”

“It is legal in the only places where it needs to be legal,” her father insisted, visibly more frustrated with each passing moment. “That is the last I will hear of this. I contracted this marriage for you, and you will abide by my wishes.”

“I love Francis,” Priya insisted. It was on the tip of her tongue to confess that she had gone to bed with Francis as well, but she knew if she played that card, she could lose her family entirely. Her father might very well be traditional enough to throw her out and disown her for it.

“You are a foolish girl who does not know her own mind,” her father snapped. “I will hear no more of this argument. You will not see Lord Cathraiche again. Ever.”

He started toward the door.

“Father, no,” Priya said, chasing after him.