“I trust your...friend,” he said looking at Udaya, “is a sufficient chaperone in your mind.”
India stared at him in total confusion. What was the man babbling about?
“Your reputation,” he said patiently. “Surely you realize this is the middle of Mayfair. Polite society, if you will.” He stared pointedly at her.
Ridge watched as realization set in, and to his surprise, she laughed. A full throaty laugh. No light giggle. A husky beautiful sound. Full of life. The sound cut straight through him, his body reacting immediately to her smile.
“I have no reputation, Lord Ridgewood. Surely you must know that though. Your attempts to shield my modesty are quite unnecessary.”
She smiled again, dimples deepening the corners of her mouth. Her expression was rueful as if she laughed at herself.
“Polite society regards me as a heathen. More comfortable digging in the dirt than discussing the latest fashions over tea.”
Yes, he could see that, but it wasn’t the detriment she made it sound. He was bombarded with images of them digging in the dirt. Together. The idea certainly had merit.
“I’ve heard stories that I was a member of a harem, and another that I possessed a harem of Indian men,” she continued on.
Did she have to say harem? Good Lord, had she actuallysaidharem in his presence? He didn’t know whether to be shocked or incredibly aroused at the images her words evoked.
“According topolite society, I am little better than a savage.”
Her face was alight with amusement, but he could see hurt register in her soulful eyes. Ballocks. He was waxing poetic about her eyes.
“And then there’s the story of how I walked naked to the British High Command in Calcutta. So you see, my lord. I have no reputation to salvage, nor do I particularly care whether people assume I am your mistress. Unless you have an objection?” she asked lightly. “Though I’ve been given to believe men do not have the same concerns over their reputation that women do.”
His throat tightened. Hell, his whole body tightened. Naked. Must she plant these startling images in his head? Mistress? He nearly groaned aloud. Hellfire.
Some devil prompted him to ask, “And did you, Miss Ashton? Walk naked to the consulate?”
Pain filled her eyes. Raw emotion swamped her face before she adopted a bland expression. Then she shrugged. “Yes.”
He snapped his jaw shut when it would have gaped open. His chest tightened at the agony expressed in that one little word. He wanted to press the subject, sate his curiosity, but he didn’t want to cause her undue pain. “Perhaps your companions would like to retire?” he asked, desperate to change the subject. “You and I have much to discuss.”
She glanced over at the Indian woman. “He’s right, Udaya. You and Kavi retire. Lord Ridgewood and I will decide on our course.”
Kavi stared suspiciously at Ridge. “I do not think it wise to leave you,Mem-sahib.”
The man was extremely protective of Miss Ashton. Certainly a complicating factor in gaining her help.
“Go on to bed,” Miss Ashton said firmly. “I have need to speak with Lord Ridgewood.”
“I’ll have Moreland show you to your rooms,” Ridge inserted smoothly.
The couple reluctantly followed Moreland a few minutes later. When they disappeared from view, Ridge turned back to Miss Ashton. “Now, where were we?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “You were about to voice your belief that I am a greedy, grasping person. Not surprising that you hold me in such high esteem since you think my father a ‘delusional old fool.’” Her eyes dared him to refute her statement.
“I wouldn’t use delusional,” he said mildly. “Whatever my disagreements are about your father’s theories, I have enormous respect and admiration for him.”
Her eyebrow lifted delicately in disbelief. “How interesting that you would decide a man who has spent his life traveling the world collecting artifacts and researching his theories is wrong when you have no evidence to do so.”
She leaned forward slightly before continuing. “Tell me, Lord Ridgewood. What have you based your suppositions on? Have you traveled much? Have you conducted any research outside your stuffy historical society?”
Heat rushed to his cheeks, and he struggled to control his embarrassment. The chit’s directness was discomfiting. More so because she was correct. He had no basis for his ideas other than the countless hours he had spent reading others’ opinions. First hand knowledge...experience was what he craved.
“The luxury of an opinion, Miss Ashton, is that we are entitled to one. Mine just doesn’t happen to agree with yours or your father’s.”
“You are free to have...to voice your opinion. But when you do so at the expense of my father, I find it not only deplorable, but beneath your station as a scholar and a gentleman.”
