The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister #2)(50)

“No, no,” Emily said, trying to stifle a laugh. “I know very little of law, but I’m certain that you can’t use Jesus.”

“Why not? Did Jesus live after he rose a second time or didn’t he?”

“They’ll call it sacrilege, that’s why.”

He shrugged, as if sacrilege were of no particular worry to him. “Very well. Let me see if I understand how this works. We can use Sarah from your holy scripture, but not Jesus. I assume that if I mentioned the Bhagavad Gita, the response would be hostile.”

“What is that?” Emily asked curiously.

“You might call it some of our Hindu scripture.”

She contemplated this. “I do not consider myself an expert on English law, but I believe you are safe in assuming that citing Hindu scripture in an English court may not be the best choice.”

“English law is incomprehensible. Your scripture is the only valid argument that can be made, and even then, it is to be used only when it is convenient to support an argument, but not otherwise. How does that make any sense? There is no guiding principle.”

“I think, Mr. Bhattacharya, that you understand well enough,” Emily said. “Your problem is not one of understanding. It is one of acceptance.”

“You have it backward,” he said, calm and unruffled. “I accept. But how am I to apply illogic? And you claim that English law is the pinnacle of civilization.”

“Me?” Emily took a step forward. “I haven’t claimed anything about English law. English law says that I can’t make my own decisions, that even though I’m old enough to marry and have children of my own, that I cannot choose who I live with and who touches my body. English law says that I must abide by my uncle’s wishes, when he would have me confined to my room.”

He was looking at her oddly. “Your uncle,” he said slowly. “But I thought your uncle…” He glanced around the path. “What do you mean, he would confine you to your room?”

She swallowed. “He is, perhaps, not as permissive as I represented.”

He took a step back. “I’m not sure you should be defying your uncle. He’s family. That isn’t just law; it’s good sense. I thought…”

“I smoothed over the truth a little,” she said testily. “My uncle is not…”

“I wouldn’t defy my family like that.”

“Of course you would,” Emily responded. “If your family asked you to do something distasteful. Suppose, for instance, your father was a tyrant like Napoleon, and that he commanded you to—”

But he was shaking his head again. “Now I really don’t understand you. What was so terrible about Napoleon?”

He was so even-tempered, so often smiling, that at first Emily thought he was joking. Then she found the furrow in his brow, the dark look he gave her.

She threw up her hands. “You’re being ridiculous. He was bent on conquering the entire European continent, never mind the cost in…in…”

She swallowed, as her mind raced to a conclusion ahead of her.

“Oh,” she said in mute horror.

He didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

“Oh,” she repeated, setting a hand over her belly. For a few moments he said nothing at all.

He spoke when she was feeling the height of her stupidity. “The East India Company laid claim to Calcutta more than two centuries ago. You cannot imagine what I have seen. Ten years ago, there was an uprising in the north. You probably have not heard of it.”

He said that without blinking. And he was right. She hadn’t. “Go on,” she muttered.

“Several of the Indian battalions mutinied. Indian killed Indian.” His hands made fists, but his eyes had shifted inward. “My brother was in the army. They called him to help.”

Just those few words, but she could see the grim set of his jaw.

He shook his head and looked away. “I knew people,” he finally said. He gave himself a shake, a firm, hard shake, and those dark eyes looked up at her.

“Which side did your brother fight on?” she asked slowly.

He made an annoyed noise. “I’m here. You have to ask?”

She shook her head.

“It started because the East India Company issued rifle cartridges to the sepoys that had been greased with animal fat. Pork fat, beef fat; whatever they had to hand. Since part of the training required the soldiers to put the cartridge in their mouth…” His hand clenched.

They had talked about this enough that Emily understood what that would mean. She swallowed.

“The English didn’t understand that they were asking for a desecration. They didn’t know why everyone became so furious when the news came out.” He looked up at her. “They didn’t understand why the fighting grew so bad, spreading from province to province. And when they counted the dead, they didn’t include our counts. So no, Miss Fairfield. Napoleon is not so bad.”

She held her breath. “I take it,” Emily finally said, “that you are in favor of home rule for India, if not outright independence.”

He looked so calm, not one muscle in his body twitching. And yet there was that sadness in his eyes. She wanted to wipe it away.

“No. Were you not listening to what I said before? I do not dare favor such a thing.”