Chapter 40
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Forty
Constance stood amid a noisy crowd of elegant silk-clad bodies in the Rani Salon of her uncle’s royal palace. The spacious room glittered with mirrors, crystal, and Maratha tile.
It had taken them three days to reach Nandapur, including a stop in Vanika’s village where they had joined a raucous celebration of the girl’s safe return.
For most of the trip, Constance had been too exhausted to think.
When they finally returned to the palace late the night before, she had collapsed into her bed and slept until two in the afternoon.
That little lie-in had left her with just enough time to dress before her nephew’s birthday party.
The festivities were extravagant. The salon was packed with glittering dignitaries and extended family, all chatting and laughing.
The men were decked out in gorgeous kurtas and silk trousers while the women wore brilliantly patterned saris or gem-studded shalwar kameez.
Hues of peach and saffron mingled with peacock blue and emerald green.
Constance’s own gown was a new acquisition that her Aunt Parvati had secretly ordered for the party.
The costume was cut like a fashionable British evening dress with capped sleeves and a structured bodice, but it had been made with a beautiful sambalpuri weave in royal purple and sunset gold—the royal family colors.
She might have teared up a bit when Parvati had presented it to her.
The guest of honor, the now-ten-year-old Arjuna, held court in his jeweled turban and gold slippers, receiving the cheerful well-wishes of his guests with the regal air of a future maharaja… until Vanika popped up from behind his chair to drop a lizard down his shirt.
Arjuna leaped up with a howl of righteous outrage, tearing after her as Vanika darted away, her dress tunic and trousers still giving her ample flexibility for a sprint.
Ellie squeezed through the crowd to join Constance by the window.
She clutched a book to her chest and only slightly favored her wounded leg.
Her bite wounds had calmed down during the rest provided by her three-day ride home—not that Ellie had been remotely happy about being stuck on top of an elephant.
“I don’t think I have ever been introduced to this many people at once in my life,” Ellie complained.
Her emerald dinner gown had been tidied and repaired since its romp through a bat-infested attic. The color drew out the earthy tones in her hazel eyes and the slightly mortified flush to her cheeks.
She and Adam had been relieved of their dog for the evening in the interest of keeping the Seluki off the tables of food that packed the adjacent chamber. The animal had been hauled away by a sighing servant as he sniffed the air for treats.
Constance took a sip from her flute of champagne. “I hear there’s going to be dancing later.”
Ellie frowned. “I didn’t go to finishing school, Constance. I don’t know how to dance.”
“You should try anyway. It works differently here in India.”
Ellie cast her a skeptical look.
Adam slipped up next to them. Even though he wore an ordinary jacket rather than a dinner one, he appeared perfectly dashing—if one ignored the bruises on his face and the eighteen-inch machete hanging from his belt.
“Are you really wearing that to a child’s birthday party?” Ellie nodded at the blade with a note of exasperated indulgence.
“What?” Adam pushed back. “Some of her uncle’s guys here are wearing swords.”
“Those are ceremonial,” Constance pointed out.
Adam gave the hilt of his knife a possessive pat. “Who says this one isn’t ceremonial?”
Constance shrugged. She was hardly going to call him out for carrying a weapon around. She had two knives in her garters as they spoke. “What are your thoughts on dancing?” she asked instead.
“Love it,” Adam replied.
Constance shot Ellie a challenging look. “You have to dance if Adam’s going to.”
“Why?” Ellie retorted.
“Well, I can’t dance with him,” Constance countered. “I have to partner with my… er…”
Her gaze shifted to her fake fiancé.
Neil had cleaned up. His shoes were polished and his jaw clean-shaven—not that it made a great difference. He wore the saffron dupatta that Constance had bought for him at the Jagannath festival over his dinner jacket and white waistcoat.
He was pinned to one of the settees by a pile of Arjuna’s elegantly dressed younger siblings.
A six-year-old boy sat beside him with an enormous book, pointing at it and peppering Neil with questions that held an air of royal command.
Neil adjusted his spectacles as he held the tome up for a better look.
A two-year-old crawled up his shoulder to pluck at his glasses. She started to slip, and he caught her automatically with his free arm.
She succeeded in snatching the gold wire frames from his face, which she promptly put into her mouth.
Neil handed the book back to the boy. He plucked his eyewear from the toddler’s grip, substituting it for a spoon, which she happily accepted as an alternative object to gnaw.
A five-year-old girl with a jeweled nose ring pressed a treat at him with a sticky hand. Neil accepted it distractedly, gave it a cursory examination, and popped it into his mouth.
Constance’s stomach felt a bit fluttery.
It must have been the champagne.
Adam’s voice called her back to herself. “Princess, you can’t read at a party.”
Constance drew her attention back and saw that Ellie had stuck her nose in the book.
“I most certainly can,” Ellie retorted.
Constance checked the writing on the spine. “Mystical Powers of the Hindus?”
Ellie snapped the book shut and shielded it against her bosom. “It’s a very interesting subject.”
“Does that mean you finally found Uncle Vijay’s library?”
Ellie’s reply was clipped with frustration. “Not yet. Someone was using this one as a paperweight.”
“Hope they weren’t important papers,” Adam quipped.
Constance couldn’t blame Ellie for wanting to learn more about the world of supernatural wonders they had all recently plunged into.
Her friend was a scholar, after all. Even Constance, who had always had a fairly open mind about such things, had been surprised by the wondrous discoveries of the last few weeks…
including those that related to people rather close to her.
She looked back at Neil.
He was trying to stand up. The children responded by clinging to him like monkeys. She saw the moment when he gave up and allowed them to use him as a climbing gym.
Her view was cut off by her royal uncle as he walked past with Mr. Chowdhury. Vijay was gorgeously decked out in a sherwani richly embroidered with purple and gold. For once, Mr. Chowdhury also wore Indian dress, though his kurta and trousers were a more soberly elegant dark blue silk.
Ellie stepped out to intercept them. “Your Highness, have you any more books like this one?”
She held out The Mystical Powers of the Hindus.
Vijay held Mr. Chowdhury’s arm, his eyes merry. “That one’s not even mine.”
Ellie seemed thrown. “It isn’t?”
“That mad Scotsman left it here four years ago.” Vijay looked to his companion. “You remember him. Don’t you, Nawaz?”
“Your pet hermit?” Mr. Chowdhury returned dryly.
“He made a very charming addition to the eastern gardens,” Vijay explained.
Mr. Chowdhury’s voice held a note of affectionate exasperation. “He only meant to be here for a month.”
“I’m sure I would have convinced him to stay on if he hadn’t wandered off in the middle of the night,” Vijay complained.
“What else did you expect a pet hermit to do?” his companion retorted.
“Who are you two going on about?” Constance demanded.
Mr. Chowdhury answered. “The gentleman in question was a traveler interested in studying the region’s ascetics.”
“Looking for swamis who could float,” Vijay elaborated helpfully.
“How did he put it? ‘A study of individuals possessed of exceptional mythic abilities,’ or some such thing. I gather he’d made it his beat.
He’d been over half the world digging up dusty manuscripts and hunting for monks holed up in caves living on a single grain of rice. ”
Ellie’s arms tightened around her book.
Adam glanced down at her thoughtfully. “This guy still in India?”
Vijay sighed. “Alas, no. He rejected my hermitage after he had interrogated all the half-naked gurus of the hills and moved on to someplace else.”
“He was in Korea, last I heard,” Mr. Chowdhury filled in.
Adam went still.
Ellie didn’t seem to notice. Constance wondered if she had even heard the rest of the conversation. Her expression had grown fiercely thoughtful as soon as Uncle Vijay had mentioned that the traveling scholar had been looking for strangely powerful gurus.
Vijay cocked his head at his companion. “How do you know where my uncooperative hermit is?”
“Because he keeps writing to ask you to forward him his books,” Mr. Chowdhury smoothly retorted.
The maharaja cast a slightly guilty look at the volume in Ellie’s arms.
“We’ll get around to it,” he concluded lightly.
“But who was he?” Ellie demanded urgently.
Vijay frowned. “The hermit? I can’t say I recall. It was something dreadfully Scottish.”
“Cairncross,” Mr. Chowdhury filled in.
Cairncross. The name sent a tickle up the back of Constance’s neck.
What an odd fellow he must be.
“Whatever would I do without you?” Vijay gave his companion a wink.
The stoic solicitor’s lip quirked with affection as he set a gentle hand to the maharaja’s back, steering him toward a cheerful greeting from across the room.
Padma’s authoritative voice rang through the salon. “Kondi!”
“Go on,” Adam said with a nod.
Ellie shook her head, coming out of a momentary fugue. “Yes, don’t mind us.”
With a curious frown, Constance left them behind.
Padma looked perfectly regal in a mauve sari with a Rajput drape. Jewels glittered at her nose, ears, and wrists. She dismissed a bevy of other bejeweled aunties with a few gracious words before drawing Constance aside. “Why do I feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”