Read Online Star of the East: A Lady Emily Christmas Story by TASHA ALEXANDER - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: TASHA ALEXANDER
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searched outside that morning and saw no signs of anyone having trudged through the snow.”
“Then your thief, my darling girl, is one of your own. I put my money on the earl. He might prefer a stint in jail to being trapped here with his wife.” He tapped on my chin with his finger. “Does that cheer you up?”
“It does, thank you.”
“Harassing my wife, are you, Capet?” Colin asked, striding into the room.
“Far from it. She did, after all, request my assistance.”
“Yes, yes,” Colin said. “So where are we?”
We discussed all of our limited evidence, but I still was not satisfied. “I feel so close to the truth, but I cannot quite grasp it. I do have one idea, though. Gather everyone in whichever is my mother’s preferred drawing room—that ought to appease her—and I shall join you as soon as possible.”
I rushed to my father’s study, where, after a brief telephone conversation, I was confident in the conclusions I had drawn. As I left the room, Jones came to me.
“Mr. Hargreaves says you will find him and the others in the Gold Drawing Room. Also, Nanny asks that you come up to see the boys,” he said. “Evidently they have made drawings for you.”
“Tell her I shall be there within the hour. Thank you, Jones.” I smiled. Drawing was one of the few activities all three boys enjoyed equally. Richard would have used every single color available to cover every square inch of his paper; close examination would reveal Tom’s careful scribbles to be recognizable animals; Henry’s would be an exuberant mess, his pencil applied with such force it most likely would have torn through the paper.
“She did mention, Lady Emily, that Master Henry quite refused to draw. She’s rather cross with him.”
“She often is. You know that she prides herself on having raised Colin so well. I believe she fears Henry may be her only failure.”
“If I may, Lady Emily, he is a good little chap and will turn out well.”
“I do hope you are right, Jones,” I said.
When I entered the drawing room, a space in which fashionable knick-knacks relentlessly covered every single surface, the mood was somber. Much though I would like to blame it on the décor being stifling, I had to admit that my mother, although a slave to many trends of the moment, had fine taste, and the objects she chose to choke her tabletops managed to do so in as elegant a fashion as possible. Nonetheless, no one was speaking. Sunita was seated between her parents on a long horsehair-covered divan, Ranjit and Ned opposite them on the chairs that completed the set. My mother, in her favorite spot in front of the blazing fireplace, was looking up at Sebastian, who was hovering next to her. Colin, leaning against the wall, looked disgruntled as he watched them, and my father stood near a window a little away from the rest of the group, his face so deep a shade of crimson I feared he was ill.
“Papa?” I crossed to him. “Are you unwell?” He waved me away, shaking his head, his eyes bulging. I looked to Colin, who shrugged and nodded in the general direction of Sebastian and my mother. I glanced back at my father, whose shoulders were now shaking, and began to suspect that he was trying not to laugh.
“Hargreaves tells us you know what happened to our jewels,” the maharaja said.
“I do.” I said nothing further until I had taken the time to analyze each person’s reaction to my statement. This act proved disappointing, for aside from Sebastian adjusting his turban, no one made the slightest movement. “It seems, your highness, that your daughter has not been entirely straight with you concerning her plans for the future.”
“Do you accuse me of being a liar?” Sunita asked, rising and turning to face her parents. “All I want is to be married and have a home of my own.”
“Your words may possess a certain literal truth, but they do not reveal the more substantive parts of your plan, do they?” I asked. “You
“Then your thief, my darling girl, is one of your own. I put my money on the earl. He might prefer a stint in jail to being trapped here with his wife.” He tapped on my chin with his finger. “Does that cheer you up?”
“It does, thank you.”
“Harassing my wife, are you, Capet?” Colin asked, striding into the room.
“Far from it. She did, after all, request my assistance.”
“Yes, yes,” Colin said. “So where are we?”
We discussed all of our limited evidence, but I still was not satisfied. “I feel so close to the truth, but I cannot quite grasp it. I do have one idea, though. Gather everyone in whichever is my mother’s preferred drawing room—that ought to appease her—and I shall join you as soon as possible.”
I rushed to my father’s study, where, after a brief telephone conversation, I was confident in the conclusions I had drawn. As I left the room, Jones came to me.
“Mr. Hargreaves says you will find him and the others in the Gold Drawing Room. Also, Nanny asks that you come up to see the boys,” he said. “Evidently they have made drawings for you.”
“Tell her I shall be there within the hour. Thank you, Jones.” I smiled. Drawing was one of the few activities all three boys enjoyed equally. Richard would have used every single color available to cover every square inch of his paper; close examination would reveal Tom’s careful scribbles to be recognizable animals; Henry’s would be an exuberant mess, his pencil applied with such force it most likely would have torn through the paper.
“She did mention, Lady Emily, that Master Henry quite refused to draw. She’s rather cross with him.”
“She often is. You know that she prides herself on having raised Colin so well. I believe she fears Henry may be her only failure.”
“If I may, Lady Emily, he is a good little chap and will turn out well.”
“I do hope you are right, Jones,” I said.
When I entered the drawing room, a space in which fashionable knick-knacks relentlessly covered every single surface, the mood was somber. Much though I would like to blame it on the décor being stifling, I had to admit that my mother, although a slave to many trends of the moment, had fine taste, and the objects she chose to choke her tabletops managed to do so in as elegant a fashion as possible. Nonetheless, no one was speaking. Sunita was seated between her parents on a long horsehair-covered divan, Ranjit and Ned opposite them on the chairs that completed the set. My mother, in her favorite spot in front of the blazing fireplace, was looking up at Sebastian, who was hovering next to her. Colin, leaning against the wall, looked disgruntled as he watched them, and my father stood near a window a little away from the rest of the group, his face so deep a shade of crimson I feared he was ill.
“Papa?” I crossed to him. “Are you unwell?” He waved me away, shaking his head, his eyes bulging. I looked to Colin, who shrugged and nodded in the general direction of Sebastian and my mother. I glanced back at my father, whose shoulders were now shaking, and began to suspect that he was trying not to laugh.
“Hargreaves tells us you know what happened to our jewels,” the maharaja said.
“I do.” I said nothing further until I had taken the time to analyze each person’s reaction to my statement. This act proved disappointing, for aside from Sebastian adjusting his turban, no one made the slightest movement. “It seems, your highness, that your daughter has not been entirely straight with you concerning her plans for the future.”
“Do you accuse me of being a liar?” Sunita asked, rising and turning to face her parents. “All I want is to be married and have a home of my own.”
“Your words may possess a certain literal truth, but they do not reveal the more substantive parts of your plan, do they?” I asked. “You
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