Monsoon Mists (9 page)

‘William, I really don’t think this is a good idea,’ she hissed at him and tried to shrug out of his grip, but he held on and kept propelling her forward. She continued to try to resist, increasing her efforts when she realised that Richardson was the only guest left. William had no right to order her about.
He’s not my keeper.
But he was stronger.

‘Don’t be a ninny. My friend just wishes a word with you.’

‘He’s already had several. William, let go, for heaven’s sake! Why are you doing this? Do you owe him money or something? We can pay him off,’ she whispered.

‘Not at all. It’s just he told me you were being difficult. Doing him a favour.’

‘You’re not doing
me
one.’

‘Yes, I am. It’s time you took another husband.’

‘I don’t want one.’

But William wasn’t listening and she knew he wouldn’t care. He’d love to get rid of her, she was sure, but she’d not make it that easy for him. They had reached Richardson, who stood up and bowed. As his eyes raked over Zar, they glittered with what could have been greed, but was probably pure lust. She suppressed a shiver of revulsion and held her breath as she got closer to him. He stank of sweat. Didn’t he ever bathe? How could William not notice? But then, he wasn’t very fragrant himself.

‘Mrs Miller, how charming you look tonight.’ Richardson took her hand and placed his dry, chapped lips on her fingers. Zar snatched it out of his grip and inclined her head just a fraction in return, but didn’t reply.

‘I’ll leave you to become better acquainted, shall I?’ William said. He strode off without waiting for a reply and Zar’s protest died on her lips as the door slammed shut behind him.

How dare he leave me here with this
 …
this idiot?
She resolved to leave immediately.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Richardson, but I’m afraid I cannot stay. I must—’

‘Not so fast.’ His hand shot out and grasped her arm, yanking her back so hard she was flung onto the settee. ‘You haven’t heard me out yet, Mrs High-and-Mighty.’

Zar tried to straighten her skirts and made sure her bodice wasn’t showing more flesh than was seemly, then she scowled at him. ‘I have already given you my answer twice, Mr Richardson. I assure you, I haven’t changed my mind.’

‘Then I’ll just have to change it for you, won’t I, my beauty.’

He threw himself down onto the settee, effectively trapping her because he sat partly on her skirts and gripped her upper arms with his hands. Zar looked to see if there were any servants around, but in vain. She was quite alone with this horrid man. She shrank away from Richardson and tried to dislodge his hands, pushing on his chest for him to back off. But he held on and almost snarled, ‘Now, when I propose marriage to a young lady, especially one like you, I expect to be treated with consideration and not given my
congé
like a naughty schoolboy.’

‘What do you mean, “one like me”?’ Zar knew very well what he was saying, but his words infuriated her.

‘A half-caste. Let’s not pretend, because that is what you are, isn’t it? So don’t think you’re too good for me, because I can assure you, you’re not.’

‘I’m surprised you would even consider marrying so far beneath you then,’ she spat, while continuing to struggle against his grip. ‘Why don’t you look for someone of your own kind? Then you won’t have to sully your hands.’ She was so angry now, she forgot to be afraid of him.

‘Needs must, as they say. Beggars can’t be choosers.’

‘I thought as much. It’s always about the money, isn’t it? Well, you can’t have it. I’m not marrying you and that’s final. In fact, I think you’d be the last man on earth I would wed.’

She twisted and turned and succeeded in dislodging one hand, but he brought it up and put it under her chin, squeezing her windpipe instead. Zar cried out and tried to retreat backwards, but only succeeded in half lying down with Richardson virtually on top of her. With one hand, she tried to fight him off, while the other groped around for something to defend herself with. At first she felt nothing, but then her hand reached a small table which happened to be right next to the settee. On it was a plant in a pot and she tore off a small branch and quickly jabbed it into his eye.

Richardson howled and recoiled, clutching his eye with one hand. Zar didn’t wait to see what he’d do next. Instead she struggled into a sitting position, yanked her skirts out from underneath him, and fled towards the door.

‘You bitch!’ he shouted. ‘I
will
have you! Just you wait.’

‘Not if I can help it,’ she muttered, as she lifted her petticoat and ran up the stairs to her room two at a time. Priya, who must have been waiting for her return, came rushing forward.

‘
Sahiba
!
Are you all right? What happened?’

‘That odious,
odious
man,’ Zar hissed through gritted teeth. ‘From now on, you are sleeping in here with me, and I want one of the male servants outside my door to guard it. I’ll pay him myself and tell him if he lets anyone in, anyone at all, I will have him castrated, understand?’

Priya blinked, obviously startled to see her mistress so vehement, but she nodded. ‘I will see to it at once.’

‘Thank you.’

Zar threw herself on top of her bed and flung an arm across her eyes. To think she wasn’t even safe in her own home – it was the outside of enough and she refused to put up with it.

She intended to make sure this could never happen again. And if William thought he could force her into marriage, he had another thing coming.

Chapter Eight

The Millers lived in a house not unlike the one Jamie himself was renting, only slightly bigger. Like almost all the more affluent ones, it was laid out around a large courtyard, with the rooms on the ground floor a couple of steps up and surrounded by terraces. The courtyard had little paths to divide it, and was planted with flowers, shrubs and small trees, with a pond in the middle. The upper floors – and this particular house had two of them – led off a central walkway, with windows and little holes on both sides to give the rooms a cooling draught. Most houses also had a flat roof with railings around it, where people often slept when the weather was too sultry.

At the front of the building was the main room, the salon or
divan
as they called it here. It was used for conducting business, as now, and for socialising. Jamie was ushered towards it by a grumpy servant.

‘This way,
sahib
.’

Once there, Jamie looked around with interest. The room had no fireplace, as heating was never needed here, and it was sparsely furnished. The natives always sat on the floor on beautiful rugs with a latticework frame for guests to lean their backs on, but Jamie noticed that the Millers had stuck to European style furniture. A couple of tables and chairs, a large desk which seemed incongruous in such surroundings, and a low settee against one wall was all the room contained. The floors were made of a hard, shiny material called
puckah
, which looked a little like marble but was usually made out of crushed bricks, some type of glue, chalk and cow hair. This, together with a selection of colourful rugs and wall hangings, added warmth to the decor.

‘Come in, Kinross. Have a seat, please.’

Jamie followed his host towards the desk and forgot all about his surroundings as he took in the lovely sight before him. Mrs Miller, standing demurely to one side, was dressed in another shimmering silk gown, this time in pale green. Shafts of sunlight slanting in through the windows made her dark hair gleam and turned her eyes into liquid pools of turquoise and mossy-green, surrounded by those phenomenally long lashes. Jamie had a sudden urge to undo the heavy plait which once again hung over one shoulder. It was so long he felt sure that, unbound, her hair must reach well below her derrière. Hanging loose around her, it would be a silky curtain enveloping her smooth skin like a cape, outlining the contours of her body and …

He quelled the rest of the thought before his body had time to do more than stir in response. He wasn’t here to admire the Ice Widow, he was here on business. And he wasn’t interested in her. Definitely not. Taking a deep breath, he resolutely turned to face William Miller. He wouldn’t let a woman, even one as beautiful as Mrs Miller, distract him from his purpose – to help Akash.

‘Thank you. It was good of you to see me on such short notice.’

Not that the man looked pleased to see him. On the contrary, he wore a sulky expression and twitched, as if impatient to get the meeting over with. Since they barely knew each other, that was intriguing. Jamie settled into his chair and waited.

William was all urbane hospitality as he ushered Mr Kinross across the
divan
and over to the desk, but Zar knew it was just a façade. He was still angry at what he’d called her ‘embarrassing behaviour’ towards his friend Richardson, and had been more than usually cross about having to allow Zar to be present at this meeting. He’d also been grumbling earlier about having to do business with Kinross.

‘He’s probably another amateur trader who thinks he can pull the wool over my eyes and sell me inferior gemstones. A waste of my time.’

Zar refrained from mentioning that
most
merchants sold William mediocre stones unless she intervened, because he simply didn’t have an eye for quality. He was fascinated by large gems, no matter their lustre, which made him buy them whether they were good or not. It was infuriating, but she’d given up trying to advise him and now attempted to help out unobtrusively instead, usually by speaking directly to the vendors. Most of them respected her and listened to her views, but a few unscrupulous ones still took advantage of William’s gullibility. It was something she’d had to learn to live with.

It was the same with most of the other goods they traded in, but luckily they had a very clever broker to help them make profitable deals. William was too lazy to concern himself much with anything other than gemstones, which was both a blessing and an annoyance.

Zar sat down a little to one side now, while William took the chair behind the large desk that had once been his father’s. Mr Kinross made himself comfortable on the opposite side, facing them both. He glanced at Zar, but didn’t seem surprised to see her, like some of the other merchants. She surmised he’d been told about her role in the company by someone and it was a relief not to have to explain her presence.

‘You had something to discuss with me, er … us?’ William sent a glare in Zar’s direction, still visibly irritated at her presence. She ignored him.

‘Yes. I’ve recently been to Golconda and thought you might be interested in some of the stones I purchased there. I’m not returning to Europe myself quite yet, but I understand you have contacts who travel back and forth? I think my finds might be eminently suitable for the European market.’

‘You’ve been to the actual mines?’ William stared at Kinross. ‘I didn’t think foreigners were permitted to travel inland, and certainly not to that destination.’

It was well known that the local
rajahs
had control of the mines and not many people were allowed to go there. Zar had heard tell that they also retained the largest stones for themselves, so it would make sense for them not to want many visitors.

‘Yes. It’s only a week’s travel from Fort St George in Madras. A lapidary friend of mine had contacts there, so we travelled together.’

‘I find it hard to believe they’d let you in.’ William didn’t hide his scepticism.

Kinross smiled, but Zar noticed the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were a frosty grey this morning. ‘There are ways and means, Mr Miller. I pretended to be a native of northern India where, as I’m sure you know, there are people with blue or grey eyes, like mine.’

William shrugged, as if he wasn’t really interested in how Kinross had managed to go to the fabled mines which were supposedly closely guarded at all times. ‘Very well, as you’re here now, we may as well have a look at what you’ve brought,’ he said, somewhat ungraciously, his polite façade beginning to slip.

From an inner pocket, Kinross pulled out a small white silk bag with a drawstring which he untied. William had a velvet-lined tray on his desk. He pushed it forward and Kinross tipped the contents of the little bag out onto the smooth surface. A large diamond of the so called Peruzzi cut – having fifty-eight facets to enhance its brilliance – tumbled out, together with about ten lesser gems of varying sizes and shapes. Zar saw William’s eyes widen at the sight of the big stone and swallowed a sigh.
No!
He was going to fall for it again.

‘May I?’ At Kinross’s nod, William leaned forward and picked up the massive diamond, holding it up to the light. He didn’t even look at the rest of the stones, some of which seemed, at least from a distance, to be of excellent quality and lustre. Zar glanced at Kinross and to her surprise, he winked at her. She frowned, wondering what he was up to.

‘Do you mind if I look at these?’ She indicated the smaller diamonds.

‘By all means.’

She picked them all up in turn, while William continued to examine his prize, oblivious to anything else. Zar had been trained by her late husband to check for the ‘four C’s’, namely carat, colour, clarity and cut. These were the criteria by which all stones were evaluated and she knew exactly what to look for. Having studied them, Zar lined them up in order of quality on the tray, then sat back and peeked at Kinross again. She saw him nod as if he was satisfied with her judgement. ‘William, may I have a look too?’ She held out her hand for the biggest diamond and he reluctantly handed it to her. ‘You might want to check the others?’ she prompted.

He did so, but she could tell he wasn’t focusing. His thoughts were all for the stone in her hand and she’d seen the glitter of greed in his gaze as he looked at it. Stupid man.

Holding it up to the light in her turn, Zar noted that it had quite a few inclusions, as the flaws were called. These were tiny fissures or bits of foreign material that prevented it from being as lustrous as it could have been, although it had been ingeniously polished to mask some of them. ‘How much do you want for this?’ she asked Kinross, pre-empting William who, she was sure, would pay way over the odds for it. His haggling techniques were abysmal, as she well knew.