23, June, 1812
The Assembly:
He did not wait for her answer, which was good, for she was at a loss for words. The music started, and he took his place across from her. He bowed. She curtsied. It dawned on her that many eyes were upon them, something that she hated. With the up-tempo, he approached her, and took her hand, covered in a lace-knitted glove. His hands were bare, making their touch more intimate'skin on skin.
She was still at a loss for words.
They made a semi-circle around, held up their arms, and the next couple passed between them. He released her hands. Her chest was heaving, her throat closing. She could no longer hear the music. She was aware only of this man, and this time and space, and she wondered why? Why was he here? Why was he dancing with her of all people, but even more importantly, why did she care?
They came together, to walk the promenade between the two rows, males on one side, and females on the other, to take their place at the front of the line. They stood idle for a moment, which was the perfect time for him to ask her, "How long have you been back to England, Miss?"
"Just a few weeks, your grace," she said with her eyes downcast.
"Your father is well?" he asked politely.
"He has been ill, sir," she said. "However, at the moment, he seems well."
"I am sorry to hear of the passing of your mother," he said.
"Thank you, and I of your father," she replied. He was going to make a biting comment, because usually when people offered him condolences on his father's death, he did not believe them, but her statement seemed heartfelt, which was odd. If anyone should hold his father in ill favour, it was she.
However, she was sincere, so he said, "Thank you, Miss. My mother recently passed as well, had you heard?"
She gasped. "No, I offer additional apologies, my lord."
"Thank you." He came forward, and took her hand, as they made their way back through the throng, weaving, and ducking under arms, and around couples. They were now at the other end.
"You are very graceful, Miss Riddhima," he said, with proper propriety.
"That is not true, sir," she said with a slight smile. "I enjoy dancing, but I am nowhere as graceful as most of the young ladies in attendance, nor as beautiful."
"You do not want compared to the other young ladies, I am sure, and no one in their right mind would do so," he said back, although he suddenly seemed bored. The truth was, he was uncomfortable, because he thought she was the most beautiful creature in the room.
"I do not look for a false compliment, that is true," she said solemnly.
He had blundered that one. He was about to rectify it, when they had to join hands once more, for another turn. They turned and parted. They stood somewhere in the middle now. He took the opportunity to speak again. When they came back together, he took her hand in his, but made sure to place his other hand on her back, firmly, just below bare skin, still on her gown. She stiffened somewhat. He steered her toward the front, and said, "A false compliment would never do you. Only honesty and I honestly say that you are a rare, ray of fresh sunshine, in a room full of fallen stars."
She looked at him quickly, and then let out the breath she held when he first placed his hand on her back. It felt warm and right. It felt as if he was sending her a message, through his hand, to her back. He let it drop when they parted once more.
This time apart, she regarded him carefully. His hair was dark brown. He was classically handsome, with well-defined cheekbones and a nice, full mouth. When she last saw him, he was still young. He was now a man. A man with a purpose, it would seem, she just did not know what that purpose was, but whatever it was, it unsettled her.
Earlier today, she found herself giving romantic and whimsical thoughts of fancy to her highwayman, and now she was giving the same due to Lord Armaan. She gave herself a rueful smile. She was becoming as silly about men as Niki.
She would have to remind herself that this man was an arrogant, selfish creature, who had never had a kind word for her, save for one time, which turned out to be a lie. She also needed to remind herself that her other 'would be' romantic hero was a blackguard of the worse degree.
Her stepmother would abolish her choice in either case.
As if enjoying her little sly smile, when they came together for the last turn around, he said, "I hope that smile is for me."
She was shocked, for it seemed he was flirting with her. She said, "It is in spite of you, I assure you."
That fine retort caused him to smile more. His earlier disdain, which was false, was turning into admiration, but he had to remember to keep on his mask, which he wore daily, just as he wore the real one as the highwayman. No one could see the real him, he promised himself that a long time ago. Not even this bewitching creature, which shimmered gold in her golden-hued gown, and was worth more than all the gold he could plunder.
The song ended, and he bowed, and she curtsied once more. As customary, he took her hand and led her to the side. He whispered low, "May I have the dance after the next?"
She could only nod her head.
She crossed over to Niki, whose eyes were wide. "Lord Armaan? You danced the first with the most eligible, richest man, in the room?"
"I guess I did," she said, noting the other girl's awe with a polite sense of ire.
"He is gorgeous, is he not?" Niki said. "Too old for me, but perfect for you."
"I would never, I mean, no," Riddhima stammered. She looked around the room. All the young women looked at her with envy, and the young men with jealousy. Her friends, Prem and Rahul, looked disappointed. Anjali looked smug. Riddhima excused herself and walked out into the hallway, to find the lady's retiring room.
She found the entrance to the door, had just opened it and crossed the threshold, which was covered by a screen, when she stopped. She stopped because she heard her name.
"I can't believe that Riddhima girl was dancing with Lord Armaan, of all people!" a woman said.
"Yes," another said. "I care not that he was not implicated by the Parliament, he should have been thrown in prison to rot."
Another voice, a younger voice, said, "He was but a child and rumours are that he helped during the war as a spy."
The first woman said, "I know that as fact, because my husband, who as you know, is very close to the Prime Minister himself, said it to be true. He worked for our side during the entire war, at great risk to himself, against his very own father!" Riddhima heard several women gasp, as did she, though she placed her hand over her mouth. "No, my surprise is that such an eligible bachelor would pick someone much lower and as plain as she!"
Riddhima had heard enough. She turned from the doorway, pushed it opened, and headed toward the hallway.
So two things were evident. He worked for their side during the war, which he proclaimed to her all those years ago, and she called him a liar and a coward. In addition, his attention to her was false, which she already suspected. She was not sure why she was surprised. She never did have many genuine friends. The fact was that Rahul and Prem might be her only two.
She walked back to the assembly, looked inside, and saw all the people dressed in their fineries, and all in happy, cheerful moods. The place was alit with glowing candles throughout. Everyone was laughing, eating, and dancing, now that the music swelled once more. And as in life, she stood on the outside, looking in, feeling every bit the outsider that she knew she was. To think, she had almost given herself over to the sheer excitement of it. She was glad that she had not.
She turned to leave, when someone reached for her hand. She turned quickly, and Lord Armaan said, "You promised me the third, Miss, and I've come to collect."
This time as they dance, he could not bring her into conversation, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, she seemed to study him, so he took the time to study her as well. She smiled once, when a young girl stepped on her toe, so she was forever gracious. Her smiled dazed and delighted him. When she looked from the girl to him, she was still smiling, even if it plummeted soon after. She sparkled, full of life.
Yet underneath the faade, he found a certain sadness, which he had always observed, and which always both troubled and intrigued him. After her story of a lonely childhood today, he understood her a bit more. It would be pleasurable to find out all of her secrets, to peel them away, layer by layer, and get to know the real her. Perhaps someday, she would even get to know the real him. It was a nice thought.
Though the room was small, cramped with people, and the company boorish, he was glad to be here, in her presence. Finally, as they stood to the side, to await their turn, he said, "Are you bothered by the crowd and the warmth, Riddhima?"
He said her name. It seemed so intimate, rolling off his lips the way it did. She found herself nodding. He approached her, breaking ranks with the other dancers, took her arm, and pulled her to a set of double doors, which led to a balcony. He ushered her to a bench, and he said, "Let me go find you a drink of something cold and refreshing. Stay here, please."
Again, she only nodded, perplexed by the man, and somewhat intrigued by his advances, if not weary of them, too.
He came back with two glasses, handed one to her, and sat beside her on the bench. He saw no impropriety in the act, as they were not the only couple on the patio. She said, "You are causing auspicious rumours, tonight, my lord."
He raised the cup to his lips, but lowered it again, and said, "Do tell."
"Rumour has it that you attend very few of these things, though you are deemed the most eligible bachelor of these parts," she elaborated, taking a drink of her punch. She held it in her lap.
He raised his eyebrows and said, "Usually I find the company boring."
"But not tonight?" she asked.
"The company tonight is a bit boring," he said perfectly serious. He turned and said, "Present company excluded."
"Well, thank you, I suppose," she said, sarcastically. "I just wonder what brought you out tonight, sir, if the company, myself withstanding, is usually boring to you."
"Indeed, ma'am, and your conclusion?" he asked, turning his full attention to her, which seemed full of disdain and mockery, but which was actually amusement.
"I have not yet ascertained your motives, but I am determined to find out before the night is over," she said, with a hint of flirting.
However, her declaration made him smile. He said, "You always were a curious creature, who could not rest until a mystery was solved. You want to unravel my motives, I say, unravel away, but you might not like what you find."
She sighed and said, "I might not like what I find, that is true, but I am still determined." He raised another eyebrow, but made no comment to her statement.
She stood, placed her glass on the bench, and strolled to the banister. She placed her hands upon it. He came to stand beside her and said, "Why are you pensive this evening."
"I might owe you an apology," she said.
"You only stepped on my foot twice, so apology accepted," he said. She turned with a confused look, but he was smiling again, a smile only made brighter by the moon and the stars. "Oh, were you not referring to your abysmal dancing?"
"Abysmal? I said I was not overtly graceful, but I am nowhere abysmal!" she harped.
"Lacking would be a better word," he said, teasing her.
"I lack nothing!" she snapped.
"But a sense of humor," he muttered. He turned to face her and said, "What apology do you owe to me, then, Miss?"
She was not sure how to phrase it, nor did she get the chance, when she heard Anjali call her name from the doorway of the balcony. "Riddhima, we must leave. Atul is not feeling well."
She started to leave the patio, but turned to Armaan and curtsied once more and said, "Thank you for the dance."
"Madam, the apology?" he asked, curious now.
"Perhaps another time," she said, turning quickly to leave.
He smiled. Yes, he would definitely be seeing her 'another time'.
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