Read Online Scandal in the Night by Elizabeth Essex - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Essex
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weeks or so now. Been a godsend—she’s wonderful with the children, and I admit to being quite taken with her, as well. Manages everything just so, to spare her aunt the difficulty and trouble. The climate, you understand, does not agree with Lady Summers.”
Thomas’s well-trained ear was trying to parse the exact amount of affection the resident commissioner had conceived for his new niece-in-law, while his inquisitive eye caught something more than a smirk in the expression on the lieutenant’s face, revealed only to him behind the commissioner’s back. Something sharp and cold, and much more calculating.
Although Thomas had never been introduced to Lady Summers, he had seen and taken note of her. Much was said of her in the bazaar, most of it unflattering. Lady Summers, it was said, was typical of that breed of angrezi memsahib laid low, or at least given excuse for her indolence, by the extremes of the climate. It was said, as freely in the cantonment as in the bazaar, that she didn’t give a farthing for the upbringing of her children, as she made sure her life intersected but rarely with theirs. It was said she saved all of her inconsiderable energies for pursuing her social life, with or without the company of her husband. It was also said the lieutenant sahib figured prominently in that social life.
Lord Summers appeared to be oblivious to such rumors. Perhaps he was more interested in “being taken” with the more subtle charms of his niece-in-law?
A haze of red heat spread upward from Thomas’s lungs until it filled his body with an unfamiliar rage—frustrated ire at the thought of that beautiful, pale, flaming goddess of a girl with such an unworthy man, an obtuse functionary who was old enough to be her father, and who ought to have been acting like one, instead of like a dirty old gaffer.
It was all Thomas could do to force his mind and his unwilling body into obedience, and back to the task at hand. “A young English lady? Excellency, surely thou canst see that this mare is too spirited an animal for a young person.”
“She is a very good rider, you may be assured. Very used to horses. Has a way about her. You needn’t be concerned. I’m thinking she will do well by your mare.” Lord Summers turned back to speak confidentially to Birkstead, though he did not lower his voice appreciably. “Now, you’ll tell me whatever price is correct for a transaction of this nature so this mountain devil doesn’t take advantage of me, won’t you, Lieutenant?”
“My dear sir,” the lieutenant promised. “I will most assuredly see to it that he gives you better than a fair price. But frankly, I don’t see why we should have to deal for these native ponies at all.” He said the word dismissively, as if the bloodlines of Tanvir Singh’s fine horses were not apparent to one and all. “We can very well send for animals with better bloodlines from the company stud at Ghazipur.”
Idiots, both of them. How could the lieutenant not know that it was Tanvir Singh who supplied breeding stock for the company stud as well? Like an unfortunate number of his countrymen, the lieutenant spoke as if he, Tanvir Singh, were not right there, no more than three feet away, sitting at his ease, sharing his hospitality with them. As if he were deaf, or just plain stupid, or incapable of understanding their language even as he spoke it. Such willful arrogance would one day very soon bring the Lieutenant Birksteads of the world, and their beloved East India Company, low. And they would deserve the end they got.
He could almost feel sorry for them. Almost.
“For a fair price, ” Thomas used the same low, confidential tone, “I have also in my caravan twenty-three more horses, well trained, strong, and full of heart. All very fit for troop work in the mountains. Horses bred of the plains will not do well in the mountains. Their lungs are not accustomed to the air.”
“Twenty-three only? The regiment has many
Thomas’s well-trained ear was trying to parse the exact amount of affection the resident commissioner had conceived for his new niece-in-law, while his inquisitive eye caught something more than a smirk in the expression on the lieutenant’s face, revealed only to him behind the commissioner’s back. Something sharp and cold, and much more calculating.
Although Thomas had never been introduced to Lady Summers, he had seen and taken note of her. Much was said of her in the bazaar, most of it unflattering. Lady Summers, it was said, was typical of that breed of angrezi memsahib laid low, or at least given excuse for her indolence, by the extremes of the climate. It was said, as freely in the cantonment as in the bazaar, that she didn’t give a farthing for the upbringing of her children, as she made sure her life intersected but rarely with theirs. It was said she saved all of her inconsiderable energies for pursuing her social life, with or without the company of her husband. It was also said the lieutenant sahib figured prominently in that social life.
Lord Summers appeared to be oblivious to such rumors. Perhaps he was more interested in “being taken” with the more subtle charms of his niece-in-law?
A haze of red heat spread upward from Thomas’s lungs until it filled his body with an unfamiliar rage—frustrated ire at the thought of that beautiful, pale, flaming goddess of a girl with such an unworthy man, an obtuse functionary who was old enough to be her father, and who ought to have been acting like one, instead of like a dirty old gaffer.
It was all Thomas could do to force his mind and his unwilling body into obedience, and back to the task at hand. “A young English lady? Excellency, surely thou canst see that this mare is too spirited an animal for a young person.”
“She is a very good rider, you may be assured. Very used to horses. Has a way about her. You needn’t be concerned. I’m thinking she will do well by your mare.” Lord Summers turned back to speak confidentially to Birkstead, though he did not lower his voice appreciably. “Now, you’ll tell me whatever price is correct for a transaction of this nature so this mountain devil doesn’t take advantage of me, won’t you, Lieutenant?”
“My dear sir,” the lieutenant promised. “I will most assuredly see to it that he gives you better than a fair price. But frankly, I don’t see why we should have to deal for these native ponies at all.” He said the word dismissively, as if the bloodlines of Tanvir Singh’s fine horses were not apparent to one and all. “We can very well send for animals with better bloodlines from the company stud at Ghazipur.”
Idiots, both of them. How could the lieutenant not know that it was Tanvir Singh who supplied breeding stock for the company stud as well? Like an unfortunate number of his countrymen, the lieutenant spoke as if he, Tanvir Singh, were not right there, no more than three feet away, sitting at his ease, sharing his hospitality with them. As if he were deaf, or just plain stupid, or incapable of understanding their language even as he spoke it. Such willful arrogance would one day very soon bring the Lieutenant Birksteads of the world, and their beloved East India Company, low. And they would deserve the end they got.
He could almost feel sorry for them. Almost.
“For a fair price, ” Thomas used the same low, confidential tone, “I have also in my caravan twenty-three more horses, well trained, strong, and full of heart. All very fit for troop work in the mountains. Horses bred of the plains will not do well in the mountains. Their lungs are not accustomed to the air.”
“Twenty-three only? The regiment has many
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