The Duke’s Indecent Match (Indecent Dukes #2)

Prologue

Kalina

The whispers followed Kalina as she hurried down the path to her parents’ bungalow, the sun beating down on the back of her neck, as if the cruelty had taken form and was burning her.

Mean whispers.

Waiting whispers.

The whisperers wanted to see her tears.

She would not give them the satisfaction. Her heavy braid bounced on her shoulder as she marched away.

“Why would she think she can play with us?” One of the children asked loudly in English, their crisp British accent distinct, making Kalina’s back stiffen as the ensuing laughter echoed in her ears.

It did not matter that her grandfather outranked any of their parents; word of her father’s estrangement had come, even to here.

But she knew better than to turn around. Doing so would only invite more taunts.

Lifting her chin high in the air as if she did not care about their rejection, Kalina turned down the path. The safety of their new bungalow loomed ahead. She had hoped that moving to a new area would mean the possibility of making friends, but it was proving as impossible as it had in Chennai.

Though her father was English, her mother was Indian, and that was enough for the other English children to reject her. Both in Chennai and here. It did not matter how well she spoke or read or practiced her manners, she was always on the outside. Always standing out among them.

She had tried to play with the other Kshatriya children because her mother’s family was Kshatriya, but they did not want anything to do with her, either. Perhaps because, although she looked like them, she was too different from them as well. She spoke mostly English, and her Urdu was accented.

Mother’s family did not speak with her anymore.

She had defied them for love, to marry Kalina’s father.

Their love shone through everything, even the disapproval of those around them.

Kalina loved them just as dearly, though she wished that there were more than just them and her brother to spend time with.

Hearing the sound of children playing, Kalina turned her head to look.

Kshatriya children. She could tell by their dress and the way they were so freely moving around the bungalows. They must live nearby.

She paused, then took a step toward them.

Something about her movement must have alerted them, and the children stopped playing.

Two girls and a boy, all looking to be a little younger than her, but that did not matter to Kalina.

They were close enough in age. She did not mind playing with children younger than her.

She could not. Her younger brother Ashwin was the only child who would play with her, but he was learning how to ride a horse today.

“Good afternoon,” she said in Urdu, smiling brightly to try to hide her nervousness.

The children stared at her. Kalina tensed as their gazes went down her clothing.

It was a proper English pinafore in her favorite color, the same rose pink as the diamonds that came from her father’s mine.

The other two girls were wearing brightly colored skirts and blouses trimmed with beads.

Kalina had always wanted something like that, but her mother always bought English dresses for herself and Kalina.

One of the girls leaned in toward the other and whispered something, shaking her head as she did so.

Kalina felt her heart sink. If she’d been wearing clothes like theirs, perhaps… but the English children thought her too Indian, and the Indian children saw her and thought her too English.

The three turned and ran off, leaving her there alone.

Again.

Always alone.

Dropping her head, Kalina slowly turned back on her path to the bungalow.

There would be no friends here, either, it appeared.

Her mother liked to say that Kalina and Ashwin were of two worlds, but most days, Kalina felt like she belonged to neither. Not for lack of trying, but because neither would accept her.

“There is my little princess!” Kalina’s father appeared in front of her, grinning with pride as he looked down at her. Her heart lifted, and she ran to him, arms up in the air to greet him. He caught her, lifting her against him. “Oof. I swear, little princess, you are getting bigger every day.”

Kalina giggled.

“Of course I am, Papa; that is what is supposed to happen.”

“Ah, well then. I suppose it is a good thing, though I will miss it when I can carry you like this. Were you making your way home?” He turned toward their bungalow.

“Yes.”

“Where were you? You know you are not supposed to be out by yourself.” The scolding was far gentler than the one she would have received from her mother. “You need to take someone with you.”

“I am sorry, Papa,” she said, laying her head against his shoulder, rather than admitting out loud that she had not wanted someone with her. She had not wanted anyone to see her rejected over and over again.

Or worse, accepted because there was someone watching, only to be abandoned later.

“Do not do it again, Kalina.”

“I will not.”

He hitched her up on his hip, pausing for a moment before speaking again.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked gently.

“No.” She did not know if he knew she had been looking for friends or if he just knew better than to ask exactly what she had been looking for.

Papa sighed. Not out loud. But she felt it as his chest moved against her body. She tightened her hold around his neck.

“I am sorry, Kalina,” he said gently. “One day, we will move to England. Things will be easier there.”

That was what Papa always said.

“Will it?” she asked. “The English children do not want to play with me. They think I am too Indian. But the Indian children think I am too English.”

Still carrying her, Papa was silent for a long moment, and she knew he was thinking.

“In England, it is your rank that matters. And my father is among the highest,” he said after a while.

“That is your grandfather. Here… things are more difficult. Not everyone is in favor of the English presence in India. There are… things that have been done that make for ill feelings between our people. Not everyone, of course. Your mother still fell in love with and married me, after all.”

“What things?” Kalina asked. She could always tell when her parents were talking around the important details, but they rarely explained what they meant.

“When you are older, we will talk about it,” Papa said, the way he always did.

Now, it was Kalina’s turn to sigh. She was older every day, but that did not seem to matter. No one would tell her, not even the servants. She wondered whether the other children knew. The ones who would not play with her. Maybe that was why they would not play with her.

But why would they know when she was too young to know?

But then, why would they not play with her?

It was all very confusing. And frustrating.

Rather than going into the bungalow, Papa took her around to the verandah. A cool breeze was blowing over the stone, the shade easing some of the day’s growing heat. Soon, it would be time to rest. No one would be playing or doing much of anything at all.

“Do you want to hear more about England?” Papa asked eagerly.

Kalina could tell he wanted her to say yes. He loved to talk about his home. And despite the fact that she had never lived anywhere but India, and he had lived here since before she was born, he still referred to England as home.

“Yes, please, Papa,” she said as he sat down in one of the chairs, still holding onto her. She snuggled against him, grateful he was there. How could she feel lonely when her Papa and Mama loved her so much? Perhaps she was feeling greedy in wanting friends, too.

Not everyone had a Papa and Mama who loved them as much as hers did, or perhaps they were just not as open with demonstrating their love. Kalina had observed many parents who were cold, impatient, or even cruel to their children. Most were not as open and loving as hers.

Maybe it was a trade?

“First of all, England is far cooler than this heat, even in the summer,” he began. “There will be lords bowing over your hand and ladies flocking to admire your dresses and jewels.”

Kalina giggled at the image he put in her head.

“Will everyone there be English and look like you?” she asked. Normally, she did not interrupt her father, but moving to this new home with such high hopes, only to be disappointed, had her feeling bolder than usual.

Papa hesitated.

“Perhaps among the ton,” he said. “But when I left, there were already large communities of citizens moving from Africa and India to Britain, just as there are large communities of British moving to Africa and India. That will make you different. Special.”

“I am tired of being different,” she admitted.

“You speak perfect English, and your manners are impeccable. You will have all the social graces you need to be a success with the ton, so you will be similar to them as well.”

“Because your father is a Marquess.”

“Yes.” He hesitated again, and for a moment she thought he might say something about the difficulties, explain further, but then his arms tightened around her. “I will make sure you have the life you deserve, my little princess.”

But her father could not force anyone to be her friend. Not truly. He had tried to arrange friendships for her in the past. None of them had been real. None of those children had ever truly accepted her, though they’d been forced to spend time in her presence.

Kalina did not tell him that. It would have hurt him, and she would do anything to avoid hurting her Papa.

“Thank you, Papa,” she said, because there was nothing else to say.

Leaning her head against his shoulder, she listened to him describe the joys of England… and she dreamed.