ridhima,my love~~part 5~~ pg 22~~26/03/10 - Page 16

EXACTLY FOUR WEEKS AFTER THE ARMANDS' MASQUERADE, Arjun kapoor left his office and stepped into a splendid a royal palace. Walking across the thick Persian carpet, Arjun sat down in one of the high-backed leather chairs facing the desk, and placed the deerskin case on the floor beside him.
The library doors opened, and Arjun came swiftly to his feet, stealing a quick, appraising look at the dark-haired man upon whom his future depended. Armaan Malik was in his early thirties, uncommonly tall, and decidedly handsome. There was a vigorous purposefulness in his long, quick strides that bespoke an active, athletic life, rather than the indolence and overindulgence that Arjun normally ascribed to wealthy gentlemen of the peerage. An aura of carefully restrained power, of forcefulness, emanated from him.
A pair of penetrating gray eyes leveled on him, and Arjun swallowed a little nervously as the duke came around behind the desk and took his seat. The duke nodded at the chair across the desk, inviting Arjun to be seated, and said with calm authority, "Shall we begin, Mr. Kapoor?"
"Certainly," Arjun said. He cleared his throat. "As you instructed, your grace, we have made inquiries into the young woman's family and background. Miss Ridhima is the daughter of pallavi Sharma-who died when Miss Ridhima was five years old-and Vikram Sharma, who is still living. She was born on June thirtieth, eighteen hundred, at the family home near the village of Morsham, approximately seven hours from London.
"The Sharma estate is small but productive, and Vikram Sharma has lived in the usual style of the landed gentry. However, about four years ago, his financial situation altered drastically.
"Our reports indicate that Sharma then made some extremely large and unwise investments in a variety of risky ventures and, when those failed, he doubled and tripled his investments which failed as well."At this time, he is heavily mortgaged and deeply in debt, not only to the cent-per-centers in London, but to the local shopkeepers as well. The estate is quickly falling into disrepair, and there is only a skeleton staff of servants left on the place."
Reaching into the deerskin case, Arjun extracted a sheaf of papers. "This is an itemized list of his creditors, although there are bound to be more that we didn't discover in the brief period of time we had to make our investigation."
Leaning back in his chair, Armaan Malik scanned the lists, his face impassive. "How bad?" he asked when he finished reading the last page.
"Altogether, I'd say he's about 100,000 in debt."
The staggering sum made no apparent impression on the duke, who handed the papers back to Arjun and abruptly switched the subject. "What were you able to learn about the girl?"
Who, Arjun wondered as he extracted the file marked "Vikarm," should know more about the girl than the man whose mistress she was about to become? Although the duke had not actually said it, Arjun had already guessed that Armaan intended to take the young woman under discussion as his mistress, providing her with a comfortable establishment and an income of her own. He interpreted the duke's interest in the girl's family as curiosity over what kind of opposition, if any, he might expect from them.
Arjun flushed as he realized that he'd been silently staring at the girl's open file, and he began at once. "While it was difficult to learn, much of a personal nature, without awakening unwanted suspicion, we did discover that Miss Ridhima was considered rather a difficult child, of an... er . . . unpredictable disposition. She is apparently well-read and uncommonly well-educated by a long string of tutors. She speaks fluent French, of course, as well as being proficient in Greek-enough so that she occasionally assists her uncle as translator during social functions where Greek diplomats are present. She reads Italian, Latin, and German; she may also speak them, but we aren't certain."
Arjun hesitated, feeling utterly absurd for telling Lord Malik what he must already know. "Go on," the duke said with a faint smile at Arjun's obvious discomfiture.
Nodding uncomfortably, Arjun continued. "Many of the individuals we contacted mentioned that there was considerable dissension between the young lady and her father.
A few of them put the blame at his door, but most sympathized with Vikram Sharma as an unfortunate man who had fathered a rebellious, unbiddable child. At the age of fourteen, Miss Ridhima evidently developed an ... er ... rather violent infatuation for a gentleman named Abhimanyu Modi. Modi was ten years her senior and apparently he was no more pleased with Miss Ridhimas's girlish attachment to him than her father was. Because of that, and because Sharma apparently couldn't deal with her any other way, her father eventually sent her to France with her aunt and uncle when she was nearly sixteen. They then presented her to French Society at the customary age of seventeen. Since that time, our sources indicate that she had enjoyed an extraordinary popularity here. Of course, if her father's financial circumstances and her lack of a dowry were known, that situation would change drastically," Arjun conjectured aloud, then he glanced apologetically at the duke, and returned to the facts. "Miss Ridhima hasbeen on the verge of receiving numerous offers of marriage, but has discouraged those suitors as soon as their intentions became apparent to her. Those gentlemen who persisted to the point of actually speaking to her uncle, Lord Shashank Gupta, were turned down by him, apparently on behalf of Vikram Sharma. Her manners are reported to be perfectly acceptable to society, although somewhat out of the ordinary. Is there some mistake in this?" Arjun inquired when the duke burst out laughing.
"No. No mistake," Armaan chuckled. "I'd say your information is entirely accurate." In his memory, he could still see her green eyes glowing with laughter as she scoffed at noble titles-his in particular. "Is there anything else?" he asked finally."Only a few remarks, your grace. Her uncle, Lord Gupta, as you already know, is attached to the British Consulate here and enjoys an unblemished reputation. Miss Ridhima is reportedly on excellent terms with him, and with his wife, Lady Padma Gupta. At present, it is the consensus of opinion that Atul Joshi is on the verge of offering for her hand-an offer which Lord Gupta will undoubtedly find most acceptable. The Joshish, as I'm sure you know, are one of France's leading families, and Atul is their son and heir."
Arjun closed the file. "That's all we were able to team in the time you allotted us, your grace."
Leaving the solicitor to his own thoughts, Armaan got up and walked over to the wide sweep of windows overlooking the rolling green hills. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned a shoulder against the window frame and gazed at the magnificent view, while he considered for the last time the plan which, if put into words now, would become a reality.
Time after time, whenever he was in France and bad seen Ridhima, he had been drawn to her, laughing silently at some of the setdowns she gave her too persistent suitors. Twice they had been introduced; the first time she was too young for him to consider, and the second time she had been surrounded by a group of beaux all vying for her attention. She had nicked a distracted glance in his direction without really looking at him or listening to his name.
After that, he had avoided further contact with her, sensing that Ridhima would require considerable time and courtship to lure into his arms. Of time, Armaan had little. When it came to courtship, he could not recall ever having had to actively court a woman in his adult life, at least not a reluctant woman. They were all too ready and eager to court him.
And then, four weeks ago, he had stood in the Armands' garden, drinking in her presence and fighting down the insane impulse to bend his head and slowly, endlessly, kiss the irreverent laughter from her soft, inviting lips, to carry her into the darkness and make love to her right there.
She was a natural temptress, alluring and provocative, with the smile of an angel, the slender, voluptuous body of a goddess, and an unspoiled charm that made him grin whenever he thought of her. And she had a sense of humor, an irreverent contempt for the absurd, that matched his own.
Armaan gave up trying to understand his reasons for the step he was about to take. He wanted her, that was reason enough. She was warm and witty and elusive as a damned butterfly. She would never bore him as other women had; he knew it with the wisdom born of years of experience with the fair sex.
His mind made up, he turned and strode briskly to the desk. "I will need some documents prepared, and there will have to be a transfer of a considerable amount of money when Stone accepts my offer."
"If Sharma accepts it," Arjun corrected automatically.
The Malik brow quirked in sardonic amusement. "He'll accept it."
Armaan stood at the windows, absently watching the coach bearing Arjun back to Paris make its winding way down the hillside. Already he was impatient to have everything completed. He wanted Ridhima, and he wanted her immediately, but he'd be damned if he'd court her in France, standing in line, playing the fop and bowing like an ass. That he would not do for any woman, even Miss Ridhima. Besides, he'd been away from England too long already. In order to manage his business affairs, he needed to be closer to London.
Since the Sharma estate was only seven hours from the city, he could manage his business and his courtship very nicely from somewhere near her home. That being the case, he decided to have Ridhima's father summon her back to England as soon as his signature was on the documents and the money had changed hands.
Not for one moment did Armaan think Vikram, would refuse his offer, nor did he have the slightest doubt of his own ability to lure Ridhima into his arms.
What did concern him was the reported dissension between Ridhima and her father-there was a small chance that if she learned of the arrangements to soon, she might rebel against it merely to defy Vikram. Armaan's instincts warned him that if Ridhima were ever forced into the position of opposing him, she could become a very determined young adversary. And he didn't want to do battle with her, he wanted to make love to her.
Since Ridhima had such a low opinion of the nobility-and dukes in particular-Armaan began to wonder if it might be wise to keep not only the arrangement with her father, but his identity as well, a secret from her until he had won her over.
Seven days later, Arjun returned to the duke's country house in France and was shown out onto a wide veranda where Malik was seated at an ornamental iron table, working on some papers, his back to the panoramic view. "Will you join me in a brandy, Arjun?" he said without looking up.
"Yes, thank you, your grace," murmured Arjun, pleased and amazed by the duke's use of his given name and the friendly offer of a brandy. "As you requested, I included the provision that you will assume financial responsibility for Miss Ridhima's expenses. Did you wish to stipulate any maximum figure?"
"No, I'll assume complete responsibility for her," Armaan murmured absently, his gaze moving down the pages. After several minutes, he laid the documents aside and grinned at Arjun. "Well," he said, "what do you think?"
"What does Miss Ridhima think?" Arjun countered, grinning back at the duke.
"What Miss Ridhima thinks won't be known for a little time yet. She knows nothing of this. For that matter, she knows nothing of me."
Arjun concealed his shock by taking a fortifying swallow of the excellent brandy. "In that case, I wish you luck with the father and the young lady."
The duke waved the offer of luck aside as if he didn't need it, and leaned back in his chair. "I'll be leaving for England within the week to discuss this matter with Vikram Sharma. Assuming he agrees, I'll need a place to stay nearby. Notify your father in the London office to locate a comfortable one for me, will you? A modest place," he emphasized to Arjun's further astonishment. "If possible, no more than a half-hour's ride from the Sharma estate. I don't want to spend any more time than necessary settling matters with Miss Ridhima, and I haven't any intention of wasting it traveling between her father's place and mine."
"A modest place, no more than a half-hour's ride from Sharma's," repeated Arjun dazedly.
The man's obvious bewilderment brought a glint of amusement to Armaan's eyes. "Correct. And negotiate the lease in the name Grover, not Malik. Once my staff and I are installed, we will keep to ourselves as much as possible, and I will pass myself off as a new neighbor, Armaan Grover."
"Surely not to Miss Ridhima?" Arjun said.
"Especially to Miss Ridhima," Armaan chuckled.