Chapter 13 #2
“It is complicated, I suppose. It is strange to miss a place I have never been, or a life I never lived. Father became a ruler at five and then two years later the British declared war. He came here at sixteen, but he could never decide if he wanted to be an Englishman or if he wanted to be a Maharaja. But he knew he wanted to live an extravagant life, so his spending probably didn’t help anything.
I have never known anything else. None of his children even know Punjabi.
But lately I do connect with Indians who have moved to London or are visiting, and that has felt nice, to hear them speak of this place. I would like to visit it one day.”
The grief is thick in her voice, and I do some mental math to realize he passed two years ago.
In Paris with his second wife, an English hotel maid he started an affair with before his first wife died.
Duleep certainly made some…choices. And the English didn’t live up to their own treaty with him either.
Also, they stole a kid from his mother. And the Koh-i-Noor diamond from that kid’s treasury.
And then cut it up to place it on one of their crowns. Very rude.
“Your Royal Highness,” another voice calls out from behind me, dragging me from the past into…well, still the past. This time it’s a man’s voice.
“Leo…I mean Lord Basildon. Good evening.”
Leo bends low over my hand as he bows, touching his lips to my hand like I wished his lips had touched mine earlier. Even now, the stupid glove gets in the way of me feeling his actual lips on my skin.
“It is lovely to see you again.” Leo bows over Sophia’s hand too. But with less lingering, thankfully.
“Lord Basildon. It is always a pleasure.” Right, they must know each other. Victoria does have a habit of seeing two brown people and try to marry them off to each other. Case in point. Although that is helping me, so I shouldn’t complain about it.
“If you’ll excuse me, I see some friends. It was a pleasure to meet you, and please do call on me if you need any help while you are here,” Sophia says.
“Thank you.” I belatedly look up at Sophia, only to see her smiling at me. Then she walks away, leaving me alone with Leo.
“You got Her Majesty’s letter?” I ask, even though he must have, because he’s here.
“Yes. I received it just as I was getting ready for the evening, so I thought I would answer in person.” He extends his hands out as if presenting himself. “I would be delighted to come.”
“Good. Although it would have been awkward if you showed up just to tell me you weren’t coming.”
“Hmm. I could see how that would be. Since I am here, would you like to dance?” He extends his arm to me.
“Yes.” I tuck my hand in the offered elbow. “Wait. Is it an easy one?”
“I will pay the orchestra to change it, if it isn’t.”
“All right then.” Leo walks me down the stairs and past the room with refreshments, and one that has been taken over as a card room, until we get to the ballroom.
Leo stands with me while the current song finishes, and then tugs my arm when the music starts up again. “Perfect. It is indeed an easy one.”
In theory, I know the steps for these dances. But only in theory, not in practice. My books are very different from this dance floor with music, which takes the steps and translates them to the groups of dancers moving together like waves in the ocean.
Maybe I need to start going to events that do this type of dancing, just to fill the gap in my historical knowledge. There are probably some groups in England who are keeping the tradition alive.
Like the last time, Leo is confident and graceful. I, on the other hand, have all the confidence and grace of a newborn baby giraffe. To give baby giraffes their due, it is impressive what they can do so soon after entering the world, but they don’t do it with either confidence or grace.
But like the baby giraffe, I persevere until the music stops. When it does, I breath out a sigh of relief and move faster than I ever have to walk back to the outer edges of the dance floor.
“You are in such a rush to get away from me. I think I should be offended,” Leo says from behind me.
“No. In a rush to be done with the dancing part.” But when I turn around he’s smiling. I should have known it would be almost impossible to insult Leo. He lives encased in a hard shell of his privilege, where almost nothing can touch him.
Except debt. But even then, he continues on with a smile, going to parties and ready to sacrifice his body to find the solution.
I can’t fully understand his cheerful attitude. It just seems frivolous, when my work has always been so serious. Even though I do find it fun, it’s never been this carefree. I always have to worry about getting published in the next journal or getting tenure.
It’s hard not to get swept away with Leo’s always good mood. I’m in an awful place right now, trapped in this time, no way home, could be exposed at any second, yet when I’m with him, I’m…lighter. It’s nice.
“Then you will be happy with my news: rich heiresses have agreed to dance with me. Our plan is working. Are you going to be all right alone for a while?”
I scoff at the through that I can’t handle some alone time.
Not only did I have two parents working full-time growing up, I’ve lived alone since college.
So I think I can handle a ball. Plus, now that Leo’s going away, I can direct my attention to what matters: the Duke of Norfolk’s wallpaper, decoration, and furniture combinations and how they’re received by contemporaries.
But even though that makes a good distraction, it isn’t perfect. My eyes keep shifting to look at whatever items mean that Leo is still in my peripherals. And whatever beautiful (and rich) woman is in his arms.
Leo starts a waltz with one of his admirers, and I immediately turn into a Victorian chaperone, concerned that they’re too close for propriety and he’s going to ruin himself on this damn dance floor. Forced to marry someone who can’t even help his money problems.
I move with Leo, forced to if I want to keep in him my line of sight. I’m so focused on the décor and Leo that I don’t notice Charles until I almost bowl him over.
“Oh. Hello, Lord Wellesley.” He can’t even let me enjoy this beautiful, if dimly lit and hot, room in peace.
“Miss Chopra.” He inclines his head, lips turned down in a pout. And he didn’t use my title. My fake title. Rude.
“How are you enjoying your evening?”
“It is fine. I hope you’re enjoying your time as the shiny new object that the ton shall soon get bored with.”
My smile, already fake as hell, become more teeth than lips, more snarl than sunshine. “It’s great. Thanks for your concern.”
“Enjoy it for now. There is still the matter of the telegram we’ve sent to India regarding you. I personally made sure it was expedited, so we will not be waiting long for the response.”
Lucky for me steam’s still not the most reliable method of transportation, carriages are always slow, and the only thing reliable about wind is it does what it wants, which is rarely what a ship captain wants.
And maybe the people in a telegram office lose the message or it gets misfiled or sent to the wrong place.
A lot of things have to go right for him to get a fast response. And a lot can go wrong to delay it.
“You’re ever so kind to check for Her Majesty.”
Charles narrows his eyes at me, not getting the reaction he wants. It’s irritating him that I’m not terrified of him, and it makes me even more resolved to be strong. Pettiness is a great motivator. “The penalty for lying to our monarch is a hefty one.”
I feign innocent earnestness, eyes so wide I’m channeling Bambi. Who doesn’t like Bambi?
“Of course.” My voice raises a few octaves to levels of neutral customer service employee, ready to agree with everything so I can get off the call and get to my fifteen-minute break. “We have to make sure that liars are punished.”
Then I look at him with knowledge. Knowledge of everything he’s done wrong in his life, all available to me in my crystal ball—or more like my crystal book.
He’s going to become prime minister. An accomplishment for him and a tragedy for England, but a boon for me.
Because prime ministers get written about in a lot more depth than if they had stayed the Secretary of State.
Who get written about a lot more than if they had stayed an anonymous aristocrat.
“Shall I ask Lady Dumfries how she feels about liars?” I ask quietly.
“You will stop speaking to me about the good lady. I’m sure I have no knowledge of her.” But he’s scared. He thought he was hiding his secret, and to be fair, he is to everyone in this time. He doesn’t know if I know or how I could even know, but it’s stressing him out that I might.
He mumbles something about seeing a friend and flees. I watch with satisfaction; glad I paid attention in my history classes to people other than my maharajas.
Leo dances back into my line of sight. He didn’t seek public office, or any other highly publicized position. He also didn’t make enough of a splash that I could see the ripples in the twenty-first century.
My life would be easier if he had.
Maybe knowing he’s going to marry some heiress and save his house, sister, and tenants would help me keep my distance.
It would be hard to lust after the man if I had studied him and his family in detail.
Or if I had analyzed all the negative traits he had and the bad choices he made.
Watch his children squabble over his estate when he died.
But he’s a mystery to me. And in a place where I know a lot about everyone, that’s…refreshing.