‘Come and meet the young ladies,’ Nick said with a feeling of mild desperation. He just hoped George knew what he was doing. If he tried to force Anusha into the midst of the Calcutta Marriage Mart there was no knowing what she might be driven to. ‘Ladies! May I introduce you to Miss Laurens? Miss Wilkinson, Miss Clara Wilkinson, Miss Browne, Miss Parkes.’
Anusha regarded them carefully, then inclined her head a very precise one inch. ‘Good evening.’
‘I’ll...er...leave you to become acquainted.’ Nick backed off, feeling as though he had three feet and all of them left ones. It might make him a coward, but he had no intention of being within earshot if they asked Anusha about eunuchs.
* * *
‘Do you know the major very well?’ the skinny blonde one asked. Parkes, that is her name. ‘He is terribly handsome, is he not?’
‘I do not know any men except my uncle, the raja, and my father,’ Anusha said with a sweeping disregard for the truth. ‘I find it most immodest the way one is expected to mix with men not of one’s family in English society. And I find all Englishmen too big, too pale and not—’ she gestured with both hands, seeking for the word ‘—not elegant.’ Except Nick. He moves like a tiger and his hair is moonlight on gold. My love, don’t leave me here and walk away.
‘Oh.’ Miss Parkes seemed somewhat crushed by this observation. ‘But how will you find a good husband if you do not meet men?’
‘My father will find one for me. Will your father not do the same?’ These girls were the best way to find out how the English really did go about matchmaking.
‘Well, yes. Papa will approve him. But how do I meet men so I can decide who I want if I do not move in society—and how can the men decide which ladies to court if we do not meet?’
‘But your father will refuse any man who is not rich enough, or well born enough or who has a poor character, even if you like him. So why do you meet them all first? What if you fall for a man and he is not suitable? Much better never to meet them and to rely upon your father’s judgement.’ Hypocrite, she thought to herself. Still, it was interesting to provoke these girls into telling their true feelings.
‘Yes, but...’ Clara Wilkinson was frowning, ‘...but it will make for a much better marriage if there is mutual liking first.’
‘You mean it will stop the man having mistresses? I doubt it.’ The girls all went pink. Interesting—obviously one did not mention mistresses. ‘At least your husbands will only have one wife apiece.’ What if she married Nick and he took mistresses? It would break her heart. But he would do, of course he would. She could hardly expect him to be faithful to her. Why should he be? Not that he would marry her. The death of his wife had hurt him too much. She did not believe him when he said it had not been a love match.
‘Um... That is a very elegant gown, but do you not have any jewellery?’ Miss Browne asked with the desperate air of someone turning the subject.
‘Oh, yes, a great deal, but it is all Indian cut and the settings are not suitable for this European gown.’
‘But do you not have Lady Laurens’s jewels?’
‘I would not wear hers,’ Anusha said flatly. ‘My mother’s, of course, are Indian, too.’ That produced a flurry of coughs, strategic fan-waving and pink cheeks. Apparently her irregular birth was another unmentionable.
Ears attuned to the pad of bare feet on thick carpets heard the masculine tread behind her. It was not Nick. ‘Ladies, I have been studying the seating plan and have come to inform you of your good fortune in your dinner partners tonight.’
Anusha turned and found herself almost toe to toe with a young man, close enough to assess the diamond stick-pin in his neckcloth and smell the oil he used on his hair. He seemed to find her mouth fascinating, so she lifted her fan as a barrier between them. His eyes slid lower and she restrained the urge to kick the insolent youth on the ankle. But of course this was not insolence, this was permitted.
‘Oh, Mr Peters, do tell.’ Miss Wilkinson was positively simpering. ‘Who is your lucky partner?’
‘Why, you, ma’am, and I am the lucky one.’ He bowed and managed to take a comprehensive look at Anusha’s cleavage as he did so. She folded her fan, just missing his nose.
‘I am so sorry. Did I hit you?’
‘No, not at all, ma’am. Miss Laurens, is it not? Will none of you ladies introduce me?’
‘Miss Laurens, The Honourable Henry Peters,’ Miss Wilkinson said with a hint of a pout. Apparently she had her eye on the gentleman himself.