the conversation we had-just last week-regarding the
importance of creating positive first impressions?"
"I do not like that man."
"He doesn't much care for you either, Mohan," she countered.
"And your decisions and actions are the reason you've
gotten off on the wrong foot with each other. Therefore, it's
your responsibility to undo the damage you've caused."
He barely shrugged one shoulder. "I want him sent away."
Alex clung to the shreds of her patience. "In the first
place, that simply isn't possible. There's no one to replace
him until your father's own guards arrive. You have no
choice but to make the best of the present situation. Which, I
must add, includes being polite, hospitable, and finding
something approximating a friendly demeanor.
"In the second place," she went on, ignoring his scowl and
narrowing eyes. "Pushing one's difficulties off to where they
can't be seen, doesn't eliminate them. They're still there, still
requiring a solution or redress. Having them at a distance
only complicates the task of making matters right. You have-however
inadvertently-created a poor impression of India
in the mind of Mr. Terrell. If you don't correct it, don't
demonstrate that you come from a people of kindness and
grace, he'll not only carry away a wrong view of India, but
will pass that view on to others, compounding the misunderstanding.
Surely, you don't want-"
"I want to go home," he interrupted. "Now. Today."
Of course he did. What child wouldn't want to be with
his parents, his brothers and sisters, his aunts, uncles, and
cousins? "I can understand that, Mohan," she offered sincerely.
"I truly can. Hopefully soon your-"
"I command you to make the necessary arrangements."
"I will not," Alex rejoined, her sympathy for him withering
under the increasing heat of her anger. Patience, she
silently instructed herself. Patience.
"England is full of dirty people."
She took a deep breath and counted to five. "You've seen
little of England outside of London," she calmly reminded
him. 'Therefore, your statement is an opinion based on nothing
more than ignorance. I'll further point out that dirty people are found all over the world and that India too has its
allotted share."
He snorted and tilted up his nose. "I never saw any in
India."
'That," she snapped, her toleration completely undone, "is
because you lived in a royal palace and dirty people weren't
allowed in. Is there a specific reason for your contrariness
today, Mohan?"
He sat up straight and lifted his nose another degree.
"I am a prince. I am not required to explain or justify my
actions."
And she wasn't required to restrain Aiden Terrell, either.
At the moment his approach to discipline had enormous appeal.
'That sort of attitude is what leads to palace coups,
Mohan," she pointed out, resolved to hold the higher ground.
''But since you're a considerable number of years away from
that reality, let me provide you with a more immediate one.
Your present behavior is unacceptable, making you truly unpleasant
to be around. That being the case, you will take
your midday meal in here, in solitude. Further, you will remain
in here until such time as you think you're capable of
conducting yourself in a civil manner."
With that pronouncement, Alex turned and walked across
the threshold. She was turning back to pull the door closed
when he made one of his own.
"I will not eat."
"Suit yourself," she shot back, pausing with the doorknob
in hand. "I'll remind you that it takes twenty-one days to
starve a child and suggest that unless you plan to discover a
font of self-control in the next few minutes, you'll be wasting
not only the food, but also the infantile demonstration."
"I hate you!" he screamed as she confined him. ''I hate
England! And the queen!"
Alex rested her forehead against the door frame and
closed her eyes. He was only ten, she reminded herself. He
was far from his home and his family, awash in a world so
very, very different from his own. She knew exactly how he
felt, remembered all too well how she'd felt when her
mother and she had found refuge in the raja’s household.
She'd been a bit older than Mohan when her world had
been upended. But she'd adjusted and endured. With grace
and hope. Unfortunately, those were the two qualities Mohan
seemed to lack entirely. If only she knew how to impart
them to him, how to instill in him the kind of vision and
strength necessary to look past today to a distant, brighter
tomorrow.
Setting an example hadn't worked. Neither had very carefully
and clearly explaining it. Attempting to go at it through
the instruction of manners had produced no discernible
change in him, either. But was locking him away the only
course remaining? It felt like such an admission of failure. If
she were a competent teacher, she wouldn't have to resort to
such drastic, cold-hearted measures.
Of course, she added, straightening and walking toward
her own room, she hadn't yet been reduced to the use of
corporal punishment. Alex slipped inside, pressed the door
closed, and dropped into the soft cushions of a rattan sofa.
No, to her credit, she hadn't turned matters of discipline
over to Aiden Terrell. Or even suggested that they might
share them. There was something to be said for that, wasn't
there?
Wasn't there?
Alex blinked unseeingly into the farthest comer, stunned.
She couldn't think of a single reason why she should be
pleased by the prospect of continuing to bear the burden all
by herself. She was bone weary from the effort to be mother,
tutor, mentor, father, and friend. And she was beyond exhausted
by the futility of her every effort on every front
Would it be so horribly, unforgivably weak of her to surrender
a small part of the responsibility? For just a little while?
She didn't care what Aiden Terrell thought of her, she
quickly assured herself. He was here, a reluctant part of their
lives, for the next few weeks, a month at the most. As soon
as Lal's replacement arrived, Aiden would be gone and she'd
never see him again. What did it matter if he thought she was
weak and ineffectual?
It didn't matter at all. Except to her pride. Which left her
with two clear choices; she could either swallow it or she
could soldier on as she had for the last five years and as her
mother had before her. Preeya's suggested course wasn't a
realistic choice at all. Make Aiden Terrell her lover and husband?
Mohan's surrogate father? Ha!
With an aggravated sigh, Alex leaned her head back against
the cushion and closed her eyes. Just a short nap, she promised
herself. The world always looked kinder and brighter through
freshened eyes.
Aiden
sat in the wing chair-the one piece of English furniture
in the entire shop and surveyed the rest of the contents
of the front store. It was said that homes reflected the innermost
nature of the owner. If that was true, what did the Blue
Elephant Shop say about Alexandra Radford?
There was absolutely nothing the least straightforward or
simple about the place. There were so many things in it; carefully
placed layers and layers of every kind of decorative
merchandise imaginable. It was impossible to see it all at
even a long glance. Each time you came back to a particular
spot you saw something you'd missed the time before. On the
table across the room, a little mirror, edged with an intricate
silver filigree, had been hidden among a cascade of extravagantly
embroidered reticules. Off to the right of that, amid a
collection of teakwood chargers and gold-edged china plates,
sat a brass candlestick with a fringe of semiprecious beads
twinkling in the afternoon sunlight.
Not a bit of it was pretentious and yet it all felt rather elegant
and rich. None of it was arranged in any formal way,
but there was no denying that there was a deliberate order to
the chaos. There was a sense of frustration that came with
considering it all, a sense that you were being denied something
you desperately wanted and needed. And at the same
time there was a thrill in that, an anticipation of a grand,
thoroughly accidental discovery.
The Blue Elephant, Aiden decided, was a study in contradictions.
Not that that conclusion told him much about Miss
Alexandra Radford. It was a store, a public presentation of
herself and her wares. She didn't strike him as the sort of
woman who would willingly lay bare her soul for any stranger
coming in off the street.
No, Alex Radford didn’t readily trust people. Not even
those with whom she was allied. Was she wary because of
her concerns for Mohan's safety? Or was it more deeply and
broadly rooted than that? Aiden cocked a brow. Or was it
that she simply didn't trust him? A wry smile lifted one corner
of his mouth. Judging by the way her eyes had brightened
and her cheeks had flushed out in the yard, it might be
that she didn't even trust herself.
His amusement evaporated. Whether or not Alex Radford
was willing to be seduced was an evaluation he didn't need
to make, much less ponder. What was worth considering,
though, was her apparent distrust. He had a job to do, and if
she didn't trust him, protecting Mohan would be all that
much more difficult. He needed to find a way to prove himself
worthy.
Aiden frowned, irritated by both the burden being his to
shoulder and the certainty that accomplishment wouldn't
come easily. And Lord knew that his motivation to make the
effort wasn't helped any by the fact that Mohan had given
every indication so far of being a most unlikable child. He'd
be willing to bet the necklace in Barrett's safe that Alex was
upstairs desperately wanting to beat her head against a wall
in frustration.
The sound of someone tapping against glass brought his
attention back to his immediate surroundings. Sawyer stood
on the walkway, peering at him through the front window.
Aiden pushed himself out of the chair and went to the door
to let him in.
''Welcome to hell, Sawyer," he said as the Reeveses' butler
stepped inside.
"You seemed quite at home in it, sir," Sawyer observed as
Aiden locked the door behind him. "Wouldn't Lady Lansdown
adore spending a day in this establishment."
Aiden, standing shoulder to shoulder with the man, looked
over the displays again and shook his head. ''It doesn't look at
all the way Sera decorates:' .
"It is the breadth and arrangement of color of which she
would most heartily approve, sir. She would most definitely
appreciate the artistic spirit of your present employer."
''Alexandra Radford with an artistic spirit?" Aiden scoffed.
"Sawyer, you have no idea how far off the mark you are on
that. She's nothing at all like Seraphina. Miss Radford is very
rigid and committed to propriety and maintaining distance."
"If I might point out, sir," Sawyer countered, "those qualities
do not preclude her from possessing an artistic nature."
''Then it's buried deep," Aiden grumbled.
''As still waters usually run, sir." He lifted the valise he
clutched in his right hand. "I have brought your belongings
as Mr. Stanbridge instructed. Where are they to be placed?"
He could have offered to take care of it himself, but he really
Shocking Sawyer was always the best entertainment.
"Follow me," he said, leading the way to the stairs and up.
Throwing the door wide, Aiden stepped back to let
Sawyer have a full view. One gray brow twitched slightly.
''Well? What do you think of it?" Aiden prodded.
"It would appear, sir, that when not formally engaged in
your duties, you are expected to spend the hours ... "
Ah, the man was struck speechless. Aiden grinned and
pressed, "Doing what?"
"Lolling about, I believe," Sawyer replied easily. ''In what
seems to be, at first glance, considerable comfort and luxury."
Aiden's smile withered in disappointment. He gestured
toward the silk-covered pallet. "I haven't lain on the floor
since ... Since ... Well, it's been at least twenty years."
''That would have made you six at the time, sir," he said,
advancing into the room with the valise.
God. Ever unflappable. ''Thank you, Sawyer."
"If I may ask a question, sir?" the man inquired, bending
down to open the lid of an ornately carved trunk that sat beneath
the windows on the far waIl.
"Go ahead," Aiden replied, sighing and propping his
shoulder against the doorjamb.
"Have you any general knowledge of the Indian culture?"
''Absolutely none. If you do, I'd appreciate the sharing
of it."
"Personally," Sawyer said, moving items from the valise
to the trunk, "I've never been to the subcontinent, but in the
course of my service in Her Majesty's Army, I e~countered
several men who had been garrisoned there for a time. While
they expressed some reservations concerning the overspicing
of food, they appeared to be quite taken with other aspects of
Indian life. In particular, they described in most favorable
terms the natives' appreciation for earthly pleasures."
"What kind of earthly pleasures?" Aiden asked, intrigued.
"An abiding appreciation for food, drink, and ... ah ...
comfort, sir."
That was the thing with Sawyer. You had to listen carefully.
The hesitations often had more meaning than the
words. "Could you define 'comfort,' Sawyer?"
"It would be sufficient, I think." he said, closing the lid
and turning to face him. "to say that physical satisfaction on
all levels is
considered an appropriate quest and the regular
attainment of it a most desirable state of being."
Well, Sawyer might have considered it sufficient, but he
didn't. Physical satisfactions covered a very broad range of
human activity. "That last part sounded a great deal like
something the duchess would say," Aiden groused, knowing
that when Sawyer declared a pronouncement sufficient it
was pointless to ask for an expansion. As habits went, it was
one of his more frustrating ones. .
''The duchess, sir?"
"Miss Radford," Aiden supplied. "Trust me, it fits. And
just in case you're wondering, her ward shows every sign of
being the Spawn of Satan."
Sawyer cleared his throat softly. "Be that as it may ... I
gather that she's spent some considerable time in India.
Those who have tend to develop a unique way of expressing
themselves that clearly identifies their experience."
"She's lived there all of her life:' Aiden supplied, coming
off the jamb and moving into his room. "Except for the last
three years here in London," he added, prodding the pallet
with the toe of his booL
"Then I would say, sir, that the general appointment of
your room is a clear testament to the fullness of Miss Radford's
understanding of the Indian approach to life. Were I
so fortunate as to be in your shoes, Mr. Terrell, I do believe