Streetlamps cast flickering shadows in the deepening twilight. Traffic on the streets had picked up as London came alive. Her brow wrinkled. She had never experienced anything remotely resembling a normal existence. The very normal things that Londoners did, theater, opera, balls, soirees seemed as foreign to her as her life did to them.
The mere thought of moving amongst such large crowds nearly sent her into a fit of panic. She couldn’t bear to be alone and in the dark, but the idea of so many people was equally discomfiting.
She was doomed never to fit in anywhere.
She opened the window and was rewarded by a cool breeze. Below her, the sounds of the night wafted up to her. The clip clop of horses’ hooves on the cobblestone streets. In the distance she could just hear the strains of an orchestra, no doubt from a neighboring residence.
As she stood watching, a carriage pulled to a stop in front of the viscount’s house and an elderly gentleman descended then strode rapidly up the walk. She quickly withdrew and closed the window.
After glancing back at the bed, she was almost tempted to take the laudanum that Udaya had tried to force on her a mere hour ago. It would ensure she would sleep this night. After a moment’s contemplation, she discarded the temptation and began to shed her trousers. She pulled on her only dress and quickly checked her appearance in the mirror. She smoothed the tendrils of hair behind her ears then reached over for the paper she had written the translation on. The viscount would be eager to see it. Even if it wasn’t the true account.
###
Ridge ate his dinner alone in the dining hall. Many evenings he took it in his study, but tonight he harbored the secret hope that India would join him. But he’d heard nothing from her since he left her to write down the contents of the journal.
A noise at the door brought his head up, but to his disappointment, Moreland entered.
“My Lord, the earl is here to see you.”
Ridge sighed. The earl could only mean his father. Otherwise Moreland would have specifiedwhichearl. He threw down his napkin in disgust as dread curled in his stomach.
He rose and followed Moreland to the drawing room where his father paced before the fireplace in agitation. As soon as Ridge entered the room, the earl whirled around, his face dark with anger.
“Tell me you haven’t done it. Tell me you haven’t.”
“Whatever are you referring to?” Ridge asked mildly as he stopped at the sideboard to pour himself a drink. He found a good stout brandy helped his tolerance of his father.
“Care for one?” he asked, throwing a glance in his father’s direction.
“No, I do not,” he bit out. He stopped pacing a few feet away from Ridge and stood glowering at him. “Robert tells me he is going with you on this far flung adventure.”
Ridge set his glass down then turned his full attention to his father. “Yes,” he said slowly. “That is true.”
“How could you?” the earl spat. His face purpled in rage and his cheeks puffed in and out with his obvious effort to control his anger.
“How could I what, sir?” Ridge asked mockingly. “Robby asked to go. I couldn’t very well say no.”
“You did this on purpose,” his father hissed, wagging a finger in Ridge’s face. “You did this to get back at me.”
“You give yourself far too much credit,” Ridge said, walking past him.
“Don’t you turn your back on me!”
Ridge froze then slowly turned around to face his father. “It is not I who have turned my back,” he said softly. “You on the other hand, turned your back to me the minute I chose my own way in life.”
“Poppycock! This is all part of your hair-brained scheme to further infuriate me. Robert is married for God’s sake. He has a duty to provide heirs since you seem incapable of doing so,” he sneered with a deriding look up and down Ridge. “How on earth can he see to heirs if he’s gadding about the world with you?”
“I suggest if you’re so interested in the state of Robert’s personal life that you ask him,” Ridge said in a barely controlled tone. His father’s words were purposely meant to goad him, and he’d be damned if he gave the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how they affected him.
“You couldn’t be satisfied to ruin your own life,” his father railed. “You had to take Robert from me as well. He was perfectly content to do his duty until you planted these absurd notions in his head.”
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.” India’s soft voice sounded from the door.
Both men turned to survey the young woman in the doorway. Ridge’s humiliation was now complete. He could take his father’s rantings, but damned if he wanted the rest of the world to hear his shortcomings.
“Who the devil are you?” his father demanded.
“Someone who takes exception to the way you are speaking to Lord Ridgewood,” she said calmly, as she stepped farther into the room.
