“Ah, there you are! Tardy lad. Too occupied to greet your old grandmother, I see.”
Barely restraining an eye roll, Vansh bent to kiss the old harridan on her cheek. “I always have time for you, my Queen.” She pursed her thin lips in mock dissatisfaction as he sank into the chair for breakfast. This had become a routine by now. She would behave like a grumpy old crone, he would cajole her like a dutiful grandson. Then she would retire to the guest room or stroll the gardens, and spend the better part of the day terrorizing her acquaintances and servants.
Speaking of servants, they were rushing about the dining room, always thrown into a confused muddle on the Rani Maa’s visits. She was seated at the head of the table, her hands clasped gracefully in her lap. Dressed in a stiff cream cotton sari, she looked especially forbidding this morning.
Her keen eyes appraised him slowly, missing nothing. “You rushed here straight from your Mistress’ bed, didn’t you?”
“Dadi!” he admonished, hiding a smile. She could be as shocking as she wanted. Her bluntness never fazed him. He was one of the few who couldn’t be intimidated by her, a fact she secretly admired and respected. He buttered his toast nonchalantly, waving off a hovering servant. “I rushed here to see you as soon as I could. How is father doing?”
“Gallivanting about the countryside as usual,” she sniffed in displeasure. “like he is a commoner and not a retired Prince. You both don’t do any good for my ailing heart.”
This time Vansh did roll his eyes, making Leela Raisinghania suck in a breath in affront. He had been hearing about the infamous “ailing heart” since he was in the cradle. It surprisingly popped up whenever she wanted the Raisinghania men to toe the line. He wondered what brought her here in such haste this morning. He indeed had been spending a pleasant time with Alara, his sultry mistress. Rushing home to tend to his grandmother’s demands early in the morning was sure to put him in a foul mood by afternoon.
“You must be wondering why I disturbed you at your den of salacious rendezvous.” He grinned openly at the phrasing, waiting patiently to see what the old biddy wanted this time. “I assure you that I find no pleasure in intruding on your private affairs. But I heard you singled out a young chit at the debutante ball earlier this week, and then refused to follow up on it. And now she strolls about Arthur’s Park courted by a new man every day and you still do nothing!” At his thunderous expression, she raised a haughty brow. “Since I refuse to believe that I raised a young man so inept at attending to a lady, I had to come down to understand your tardiness in getting me an heir.”
“I am your heir,” he bit out, his gaze icy. To his grandmother’s credit, the dragon didn’t even flinch. “I fail to see why my interest or rather lack of in a woman is of so much concern to you. Did you forget I am a grown man?”
“No, my dear. But I think you have,” she finished, meeting his irate eyes with haughty composure. “You refuse to hasten to do your duty by this family. We need your child to secure the family line! Keep it untainted and away from the soiled hands of your father’s other son. Have you forgotten about Kabir?”
“Kabir is a bast*rd. He would never inherit anything.”
“You continue to underestimate him. He certainly tried!” she snapped. “I will say this for the very last time. I will not have a by-blow lay claim to Mewargarh. Your ancestors built it with honour and toil, and I will not have the Raisinghania name sullied because your father could not keep it in his pants for a hussy!”
“Dadi!” Vansh shouted, standing up. She shrank back instinctively. His furious gaze scanned the room. The servants had dispersed quickly, sensing the rising temperature. Taking in a slow steady breath to calm himself, he gritted out, “You have no right to be so disrespectful! Dad has done everything for me. I will not have you insult him this way.”
It was true. Viren Raisinghania had lived for his son ever since his beloved wife passed away in childbirth. Most people expected him to grudge his father’s drunken escapade with his nanny years ago. But unlike them, he understood what loneliness could drive a man to do. Vansh’s mother had been his father’s true love. Vansh had never known his mother but his father had shared years of happiness with his wife. He could not and did not want to imagine the crippling pain of losing one’s greatest love. Never wanted to feel it for himself.
Sitting down again, he placed a mollifying hand over his grandmother’s. “I will see that you have strong hardy great grandchildren running around the house soon. But I need time to find the right woman. Stop your meddling in my decisions and just trust me.”
Leela Raisinghania harrumphed in pique. “Does this mean Miss Kapoor does not pass muster with you?”
“You are relentless, aren’t you?” Vansh shook his head, astounded once again at her ability to bounce back from such situations. She was like a bull, single minded in her determination to charge at her goals.
“Is that a yes or a no, boy?”
He crossed his arms lazily, a smile designed to infuriate her on his lips. “Why don’t you tell me? Since you seem to know an awful lot about my ‘liaisons’, as you call them.”
She imitated his posture, her eyes narrowing at the amusement on his face. “I think not. You are too good for her. The family is almost finished. You would suit with Miss Deepali Dixit, who is beautiful, with a wealthy family engaged in those disgusting oil trades. Why we need to plunder the earth for oil when a new age of energy is upon us, is beyond my comprehension.” Vansh wisely kept quiet, in agreement with his grandmother’s opinion on these matters. “And, ah yes! Now that we are on that subject, I have arranged a perfectly pleasant stroll in Arthur’s Park for you and Deepali this afternoon. For you two to get better acquainted. Her older sister and some friends will accompany as chaperones.” At the murderous look in his eyes, she rose to her feet hurriedly, patting her chignon innocently. “Oh dear, I must retire to my room at once. The travels aren’t good for my ailing heart.”
Hiding her wicked smile, Leela Raisinghania walked away before he could wring her neck. Unbeknownst to her grandson, she had also arranged for a certain Miss Kapoor to be present in the posse. Now if fate was kind, she would have a great grandson by next spring! Oh, she could hardly wait!
…
Trudging along behind tittering women, Riddhima Kapoor was decidedly displeased. She blamed it on the nauseating smell of flowers at home from her many admirers. The harsh rays of the afternoon sun. The snide looks she was receiving from her erstwhile friends. The scolding she had received from her mother for her ‘grouchy face’ early in the morning. She was likely to blame it on all of the above situations. But if she was being honest, a phone call from Deepali, prettily requesting her company while she became better acquainted with the Prince of Mewargarh was the real reason behind her foul mood.
Had she imagined Vansh’s interest at the debutante’s ball? He had singled her out that night, sought her out and then danced with her in front of everyone. It had made her so popular among the eligible men of Arthur’s Street that her social life had never been fuller. Her days were occupied with visits from handsome men, strolls through the park, love letters waxing poetic about her eyes… It had, of course, made her the subject of much jealousy among her friends; if she could even call them ‘friends’ anymore, considering they excluded her out of every activity now.
She had woken up the next morning from the eventful party, expecting…something from Vansh. Perhaps, a visit, an invitation, or even just one small flower. Any gesture that he cared. When none came, she had felt deflated.
“You are such a silly silly girl, Riddhima,” her mother had remarked, guessing her thoughts. “Why would a Prince be interested in you? Just because he danced with you, you think he now wants you as a wife? Men are notoriously fickle beings. It’s a good thing if you understand this now.”
Her mother’s words were cruel. But Riddhima had come to appreciate her honesty over the years. She never minced her words. Never put on a façade like many in polite society. She may not be the kindest woman, but Riddhima knew she could count on her mother atleast for the truth.
“Did you know that His Highness told Deepali that he always had his sight set on her?” The nasal voice of Priya Dixit, Deepali’s older sister came towards her. “He makes it a point to dance only with the wallflowers at such events, you see. They need all the help they can get, poor things.” The three girls dissolved into giggles, casting surreptitious looks back at her.
Riddhima pretended to be occupied with the scenery, pausing to gaze at the serene lake. She watched as a bird swooped down to pluck its food out of the waters. People were dispersed over the large area, engaged in different activities. Arthur’s Park had been built around a natural lake, with plenty of greenery and walking tracks. It provided the ideal backdrop for every kind of rendezvous. Indeed, many a match had been made and broken in these privileged surroundings.
She knew she shouldn’t dwell on Priya’s malicious words. But they really hurt. Was there some truth in them? Had the Prince really considered her an object of pity that night? His new charity case? Is that why he never approached her after that dance, and instead decided to court Deepali? It hurt her heart, her pride to think that it had all been an obligation at his end.
Riddhima swivelled as she heard excited squeals. Her gaze landed on a couple in the distance, easily picking out the powerful gait of the Prince’s. A beautiful woman dressed in a lavender dress hung onto his arm. He bent down to hear something she said, then laughed looking at her upturned face. They looked perfect together, she registered, her heart twisting painfully. Both were tall and stunning with a wealthy inheritance. And apparently, both enjoyed each other’s company quite well.
Unwilling to exhibit her hurt to others, Riddhima quickened her footsteps towards the girls. Hoping to blend into their excitement and salvage what remained of her pride.
She gave a bright smile as Deepali’s dark eyes landed on her. Nodding at her in acknowledgement, Deepali graciously introduced everyone to Vansh, skimming over Riddhima’s name rather quickly. It was probably as uncomfortable for her as it was for Riddhima, being courted by the same man that had made her rival’s debut infamous.
“Charmed, ladies,” murmured Vansh’s deep baritone. “You look fetching this afternoon.” His words were for the benefit of all, but she could feel his eyes on her. Her body’s awareness of him was shocking. She felt charged from within, a new restless energy rushing through her veins. Resolutely looking elsewhere, she refused to make the same mistake twice. She won’t look into those eyes if she could help it. She won’t be the sort of woman he could indulge one moment and set aside the next.
She was thankful when Deepali lead him away, talking gaily about exercising the horses at the range ahead. Her friends followed the couple close behind, leaving Riddhima to her thoughts again. If they were going riding, she was grateful that she had worn trousers and a beige top instead of a dress this morning. Horses she could understand. Men, apparently not. She avoided looking at the back of a certain man’s head, wanting to give him no indication, deliberate or otherworldly that she was interested in him.
They stopped at the stables ahead, picking their mounts for the ride. She picked out Diana, a spirited brown Indian country horse. Vansh picked out a new jet-black stallion, his arm muscles visibly flexing as he led the horse confidently onto the range. The ladies nearly swooned at the sight, nudging a blushing Deepali. As she was wearing a dress, she would be riding sideways with Vansh. The mental image sickened Riddhima, making her wish she had had the courage to decline the invitation this morning.
It was a good day for a ride, she allowed, looking at the terrain dressed in pale green foliage. It was bathed in gentle sunlight, tantalizing the rider in her. She went inside the stables, smiling in greeting at the groomsmen. She had come here since she was a child. Horses were her first love, followed by dogs and all other domesticated creatures. Some of the horses nickered in greeting, recognizing her scent. She patted their heads and ears, laughing as they sniffed down her black trousers for a hidden treat.
“You are quite familiar with them.”
She turned sharply, her gaze landing unwillingly on a pair of obsidian eyes. Vansh was standing few steps away, holding the riding paraphernalia of all the ladies. She would have smiled at the amusing sight, but the intensity in those eyes unnerved her. A groomsman hurried over to take it all off the Prince’s hands. “Yes,” she spoke carefully, turning back towards Moonlight, another of her favourite horses. “I have been coming here since I was a little girl. Most of them know me, except of course the newer mounts.”
She heard, no felt him, stepping closer. His presence seemed to consume the whole space. “I believe I owe you an explanation.” The silky-smooth tenor of his voice washed over, the nape of her neck tingling with his proximity. She stepped sideways towards Masakalli, a black thoroughbred. “You must be wondering why I am here…with Miss Dixit –”
“I assure you, Your Highness,” she interrupted, patting the horse determinedly. “Your activities are of little concern to me.” It came out sharper than she had intended. “What I mean to say is, I have been more than occupied lately to pay attention to such…such…trifling matters.” She amended hastily.
His scoffing laugh set her teeth on edge. “Yes, so I have heard. You have set the bumbling fools of Arthur’s Street quite on their heads lately. And yet…” His voice deepened. “I don’t see you gushing with gratitude for my assistance this time. I must say I am shocked at this oversight, Miss Kapoor.”
She wanted to wallop him for that smug tone. Stepping sideways again, she faced an empty stall. Drat! Left with no choice, she pivoted slowly, looking reluctantly at the maddening man. He looked like he was suppressing a laugh, sparking the deep hurt to life again. “I am so grateful for your assistance, Your Highness.” She nearly choked on the words. “A wallflower like me needed a knight in shining armour like you, to-to grace her with your royal stamp of approval.”
His hand shot out as she tried to pass by him, seized by an impulse to run away and hide. “What did you mean by that?” he spoke sharply, his grip firm on her arm.
She twisted away from his burning touch, glaring up at him. “Precisely what you heard.” He blocked her way as she tried to leave again, his arm forming a barrier. There was a warning glint in his eyes.
“I don’t have time for your feminine games,” he growled, jaw clenching in rising anger. “What did you mean by those words?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time for this inquisition,” she ground out, feeling the storm of her emotions spiral within. “But I do hope that the next time we dance, I won’t be a part of your pity project.”
She tried to elbow her way past him, the hurt rising to the surface. “Oh, for God’s sake-” His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. The breath whooshed out of her at the hard contact.
Riddhima gasped, squirming as he locked her arms to the side within his embrace. His hands were splayed flat against her abdomen, the touch shockingly intimate. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind, Vansh?” If anyone saw them in this compromising position…She gazed fearfully at the doorway, hoping no one would walk in. The groomsmen were helping the ladies saddle their horses, but it won’t take them long.
“I am at the end of my tenuous patience with you!” His breath was warm against her ear, making her shiver at the ticklish sensation. “You will answer my questions, woman. Without speaking in riddles, or so help me God, we aren’t leaving this place.” She barely registered his threat. His scent was washing over her, holding her captive in its spell. She felt light headed, her thoughts fixated on the feel of his hands on her body, the accidental brush of a thumb against the exposed skin between shirt and trousers.
“Priya…” she exhaled, her fingers pulling at his hands with no success. “She said the Prince dances with a wallflower to help the debutante with prospects.” Her voice weakened at the end, utter humiliation bringing angry tears in her eyes. “I am not your charity case, Vansh. I am perfectly capable of…You shouldn’t have…”
“Hush,” he whispered gently, turning her in his embrace. “Look at me, Riddhima.” The words brought an aching remembrance of the time he had last spoken them to her. She raised her eyes to his, wounded pride shining in their depths. “You are not a wallflower. I danced with you because you were the most beguiling woman in the room, and there is no one else I would rather have spent that time with.” She gaped, the warm rush from his words bringing hot colour to her cheeks. He bent towards her, his lips lifting in a half smile. “They are jealous of you, my dear. No man in his right mind can mistake you for a wallflower.” He was close, too close. She could feel her heart beating wildly against her chest.
The dark depths of his eyes roved intently over her face. “Wh-why didn’t you meet with me…all this while?” The words seemed to break him out of the spell. To her disappointment, he let go of her arms, stepping back. He ran an agitated hand over his hair, the action only serving to make it look artfully mussed.
A brief silence. “My meddlesome grandmother arranged this meeting behind my back,” he spoke finally. “I have no intention of courting an innocent at this time. Possibly, never would.”
“Not even me?” The words slipped unbidden past her errant tongue, making her want to die out of embarrassment.
He gave her a heated look. “Getting entangled with a rake like me is dangerous for your soul, Miss Kapoor. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t make the best husbands.” Before she could think up a response, he was offering her his arm. “Your friends must be waiting. We don’t want to give them more fodder for gossip…or do we?” A devilish glint lit up in his eyes.
She returned his mischievous smile, quelling a sudden sadness at his earlier words. “Perhaps, we do, Your Highness. Yes, perhaps, we do.”
***