The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister #2)(101)

“I can understand that,” Anjan said. “My father is highly placed in the civil service. My uncle is the native aide-de-camp for the Governor-General. I know you must be worried that I will think your niece beneath me.”

Fairfield blinked rapidly. “Uh. Well.”

“Never fear,” Anjan said. “I don’t. I’ll care for her as well as any lesser man might. We may be better off than your humble circumstances, but I am just another one of her Majesty’s loyal servants.” The words hardly tasted badly in his mouth as he spoke them.

Mr. Fairfield seemed nonplussed. He skimmed his hand over his head, grimacing oddly. “That was not…”

“Ah. It’s her fits, then? You fear she wasn’t truthful with me about them. Mr. Fairfield, I applaud your desire to make sure that there has been adequate and proper disclosure between all parties before entering into a permanent relationship. But I assure you that I’ve known of them from the start. They’re scarcely worth thinking about.”

“You don’t understand.” Fairfield was beginning to look pale.

“Ah,” Anjan slowly stood, setting his hands on the desk. “It’s because I’m Indian.”

There was a long, pregnant pause.

“I am not sure that Emily is well enough to marry,” her uncle finally said. “But if she were, then, yes, I’d refuse you. Because you’re—you’re—”

“From India,” Anjan supplied helpfully. “It’s the name of a place, not a loathsome disease. You’ll have to learn to say it; we’re going to be family.”

“No, no, of course we’re not,” Fairfield said mulishly. “I don’t have to say anything. I won’t give permission. I won’t.”

“Perhaps you can explain.”

“Because I know your race,” Fairfield growled. “You’re weak and you’ll take ten wives and if you die, you’ll force my niece to burn herself on your funeral pyre.”

“Yes,” Anjan snapped back. “Because it would be so much better to let her have no husband at all, to burn her with pokers while she’s still alive, and to subject her to electric shock. You’ve no call to lecture me on that front, Mr. Fairfield. I, at least, have never hurt her.”

Fairfield swallowed. “That’s different. She was—is—ill. And…and…”

“And you made it worse. Did you know that I have only seen your niece cry once? It was when I told her that her guardian should treat her as a precious treasure.”

“But—”

“While we are discussing the matter, I suppose a few points of clarification are in order. Hindus believe in monogamy; I do not know a Hindu who has more than one wife. When my brother passed away, his wife mourned him, but she is still alive.” Anjan felt his hands shake with anger. “I don’t claim that my race, as you call it, is perfect, but I try.” He glared at the man. “I’ve seen Emily’s scars, and that’s more than you can say.”

Fairfield shrunk away from the anger in Anjan’s voice. “I meant well,” he whispered.

Anjan leaned forward across the desk until he was an inch away from the other man. “Mean better.”

Fairfield slouched in his seat. “I…” He looked around. “You…you’ve seen her scars?”

Anjan nodded.

“But they’re…”

Anjan nodded.

“She would have had to…remove a bit of clothing to show you them.” He looked perturbed, and Anjan decided not to mention that he hadn’t seen all of Emily’s scars. “You say that when Emily ran away, she went to you?”

“She did.”

“Then she’s…ruined. She has to marry.” He licked his lips.

There was no point clarifying the exact state of Emily’s ruination.

Mr. Fairfield didn’t say anything for a long while. His lips moved, as if he was arguing with himself…but at least he appeared to be arguing back. Finally, he straightened. “You’re Indian,” he finally said. “Doesn’t that mean that you have…special healing abilities? I think I remember hearing about them. Special…” He made a gesture. “Things. With stuff.”

Anjan had his degree in law from Cambridge—the exact same degree that Mr. Fairfield had earned. He wanted to laugh. He ought to have corrected the man.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I do things with stuff. How ever did you know?”

“Maybe this is for the best,” Fairfield said. “You might know of a whole range of cures that I have not been able to access. This might be the best thing for her after all.”

Anjan didn’t nod. He didn’t smile. “I’d be happy to try anything that seems like a good idea,” he said, and Fairfield looked pleased with himself.

“Good, good. But—just to make sure—we’re putting it in the settlements. No burning her alive.”

“Well,” Anjan said generously, “you do have to look out for your niece.”

The end came upon her so swiftly that Jane didn’t even realize she was looking at it until the moment had already passed.

The end came first in happiness—when Oliver’s inquiries were swiftly answered in the affirmative. There was a barrister named Anjan Bhattacharya. Addresses were discovered; messages exchanged via swift courier, and two hours later, Jane found herself at her sister’s hotel, flying into Emily’s arms.