from men at neighboring tables. Gideon did not so much as flinch, only raising a sardonic brow at the uncharacteristic display of temper. “It’s what she wants. It’s what we agreed.”
“Agreements change.”
“I am not in need of a wife,” Rhystan snapped. “Least of all her.”
“She’s your match, Captain.”
“You know who she is to me, Gideon. Those were the darkest days of my life.”
Gideon studied him and then downed the rest of his ale with a quiet nod. “Aye. They were. I pulled you out of that opium house where you were slowly attempting to obliterate yourself. But it was not only because of her. You had many other demons you were trying to drown, your father being the worst of them.” His voice gentled. “And let’s be honest here. You didn’t exactly fight for her either.”
Rhystan crashed his fist into the table, nostrils flaring with fury as he leaped to his feet ready to send his friend to the floor. Anger that he’d kept buried for years burned through his veins like acid. “I was in hell, you bastard!”
“And you chose to put yourself there.” In the next breath, all Rhystan’s fury died, and all he could do was stare at the ever-calm Gideon, who had not batted an eyelash. “I gave you an out, and you took it. At any point after you sobered up, you could have gone back to Joor.”
“She was already married,” he muttered.
No, she hadn’t been. He’d only thought she’d married. Markham had lied, which Rhystan would have discovered if he had gone back for her. The truth hit him like a kick to the gut. Gideon was right. He could have gone back to Joor. He could have spoken to her, used his fucking name for something worthwhile. Done something, anything. He was only responsible for his own actions, and he’d chosen to do nothing.
“You’re right,” he said, sitting heavily. “Even so, I can’t marry her.”
“Why not?”
“This is London, Gideon. If the truth came out about who she is, it would most likely have an effect on Ravenna’s chances of making the best possible match, simply by association. You know how narrow-minded the ton can be. The gossip will be interminable.”
Gideon stared at him, and from the growing scowl on his face, Rhystan had the feeling that he’d just gone down a few pegs—a few dozen pegs—in his friend’s estimation. “Since when does the captain I know care about gossip or polite society?”
“Since he became duke.”
“That’s never been you, lad. The man I know would never let a person’s circumstances determine the sum of their worth.” He stood and tossed a few coins down onto the wood. “Whoever that duke is isn’t worth a scrap of the man you were. Don’t lose sight of him, my friend, or you will truly have become your father.”
* * *
After dinner at home, Asha’s low notes on the shehnai soothed Sarani’s soul. Ravenna, too, if her transported expression was any indication.
“I’ve never heard anything so hauntingly beautiful in my life. You’re very good at that, Asha,” she said, clapping with enthusiasm as the maid wrapped up a piece in the music room. “Would you teach me sometime?”
Asha glanced at Sarani, but it was up to her. Sarani gave a tiny shrug and a smile. “It would be my honor, Lady Ravenna. Here, why don’t you hold it? Familiarize yourself with the feel of the wood and each sound.”
Watching them, their heads bent together—one dark and the other auburn, so dissimilar in looks yet so unequivocally united in their love of music—Sarani couldn’t help smiling. Though she missed Joor on occasion, London was starting to grow on her. And it was all because of Ravenna. She’d never had a sister, and Ravenna had turned out to be nothing like she’d expected.
The girl was unlike any of the other English debutantes she’d met. Ravenna had laughed when Sarani had told her that and said that she hadn’t met anyone besides Penelope—arguably the worst of the bunch. The blond-haired girl who had seemed excited about the Indian princes was one of Ravenna’s best friends, Lady Clara.
To Sarani’s surprise, there’d been no more discussion of her origins or the scandal her parents had caused. She had expected Ravenna to treat her differently because she was not fully English, but it simply did not signify. Each day, Sarani kept waiting for the ax to fall, and every day, it didn’t.
“Are you not concerned?” Sarani had blurted out once during breakfast, her voice