Page 49 of The Language of Love

“Why are you frowning?” he asked.

Annis shook herself; she could dwell on her miserable status and frumpy clothing later. Right now, she was sitting right beside Henry and the day was beautiful.

“This is a very fine carriage,” she said.

He stared so hard that, for a moment, she believed he might pursue the matter. But finally, he faced forward, taking away the not inconsiderable pressure of his gaze.

“It is Lord Rotherhithe’s carriage," he said.

Oncoming drivers and passengers eyed him with open curiosity, a few with recognition and disdain.

Annis struggled for something to say, some way to distract him from their rude stares. “You are not much like his lordship.”

That got his attention. “In looks, you mean?”

“Oh, well, yes, in looks of course, but I meant, er, in disposition and turn of mind.”

A smile softened his severe expression. “No, his lordship does not have a serious turn of mind.”

“And yet he has amassed a substantial fortune.”

“His father was in India many years ago and acquired a favorable parcel of land as well as establishing his interests in textiles at the right time.” He cut her a quick smile. “So, although his lordship worked hard, he had lots to work with.”

“And you, Mr. Parker, what drew you to India?”

He cocked one eyebrow at her. “Mr. Parker?”

“Henry," she amended.

“I was born in India—in Dacca, as a matter of fact. But I returned to England when my parents died in a typhus outbreak. I moved back to India five years ago to take a Company position in Dacca.”

“Your story is like Lord Rotherhithe’s.”

“Yes, a bit.” His lips twitched. “Although my tale is markedly without wealth or a title.”

“Were you sad to leave India?”

“There are things I will miss about India.” He looked down at her, his expression thoughtful. “It is a huge and beautiful country with a rich history. But the tension between the English and native population is always simmering and each expansion by the British is a loss for people who have ruled themselves for thousands of years.” His lips pulled into a frown, and he looked like he was going to say something else but shook his head. “Let us not talk of politics.” He smiled down at her. “You asked the first time we met if his lordship spoke Urdu or Hindi. It just so happens that I do.”

“Oh, how marvelous! I understand both are very similar when spoken?”

“Yes, the spoken languages are very much alike, but when it comes to writing or reading, they utilize different alphabets.”

“Will you teach me a few words—perhaps even some phrases?”

“I will, although you will not find many people among the ton to practice with, I’m afraid.”

“But I can practice with you.”

“If the past two weeks are anything to go by, that will not happen often.” He cocked his head. “Or do you think that will change in the days ahead, Annis?”

Something about the way he said her name made her heart hammer. “Unfortunately, I am not my own mistress.”

He gave her a penetrating look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He hesitated and then said, “It is nothing. What words and phrases would you like to know?”