Read Online The Wedding Bed (The Sun Never Sets, Book One) by Ava Archer Payne - Free Book Online
Authors: Ava Archer Payne
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initial meeting.”
“And they were happy together?”
Calla hesitated. Initially, she supposed they were. But it didn’t last. Particularly when a series of daughters was born, rather than the sons her father thought he deserved. She remembered how her mother seemed to shrink in size, growing increasingly helpless, while her father became a large, dominate presence. Little, inconsequential things began to bother him. The more desperately Calla’s mother and her sisters tried to please him, the more he withheld his approval. Finally he rarely graced them with his company at all, choosing instead to send a meager monthly stipend that never quite covered the household necessities.
Misinterpreting her silence for assent, Derek shrugged and answered his own question. “Happy enough to bear six children together, I suppose.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she mused. She pushed aside the specter of her parents’ unhappy marriage, refusing to allow it to shadow her thoughts. That had been her mother’s destiny; but that did not mean it was hers. She would not make the same mistakes. She would not turn herself inside-out to please a man. She would hold on to her dignity, maintain her pride.
Their coach rolled through the tall gates of the Keating estate . Unlike the first time Calla had arrived at Derek’s home, the house, as well as the drive itself, was ablaze with twinkling light, welcoming guests to an intimate supper to celebrate their nuptials.
The effect was stunning, yet something about the forced opulence seemed cold and staged, as though the house, carriage, and servants were all expensive props in some elaborate play, rather than one’s actual home. She cast an appraising eye at her new husband, wishing for perhaps the thousandth time she knew him better. He had elected not to wear the kurta his mother had sent from Calcutta, she noted. Instead he’d donned a suit of black wool serge, looking every inch the proper lord of the realm.
“ You mentioned that your wealth was not inherited with the barony,” she said.
“True.”
“How then did you amass your fortune?” She knew that he was in trade, but little else. “Did you begin your career working for the East India Company?”
He arched one dark brow, a look of dry amusement playing about his lips. He studied her with an air of quiet expectation, as though waiting for her to recognize the folly of the question. When Calla only continued to study him blankly, he shook his head.
“No, ” he replied. “No, the honorable gentlemen of the Company did not deem me a suitable candidate for employment.”
Calla frowned, recognizing the sarcasm lacing his tone but not understanding the reason for it. Then her cheeks flamed. Horrified embarrassment swept over her as she realized her gaffe. It was against Company policy to hire anyone of mixed heritage. In India, Eurasians—those who were half-English, half-native—were legally excluded from military service, land ownership, government pensions, and a host of other rights her own family had always taken for granted.
He leaned back in his seat and stretched out his long legs, silently watching as she worked that out. “Any other questions?” he drawled.
Calla shook her head in mortified silence as the coach rumbled to a stop. A footman attired in formal livery sprang forward and opened the coach door, bringing their conversation to a swift and merciful close.
Derek exited the vehicle, then turned and offered Calla his hand. Once her feet were firmly on the ground, he released her hand. “Ropes,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I made my fortune importing ropes, jute, and sailing canvas from India. I built a small empire undercutting the market by dealing directly with the Dalit , something not even the English were willing to do.”
Calla drew in a sharp breath. The Dalit were India’s untouchables, an entire swath of society that was deemed the lowest of the low. Living in abject poverty,
“And they were happy together?”
Calla hesitated. Initially, she supposed they were. But it didn’t last. Particularly when a series of daughters was born, rather than the sons her father thought he deserved. She remembered how her mother seemed to shrink in size, growing increasingly helpless, while her father became a large, dominate presence. Little, inconsequential things began to bother him. The more desperately Calla’s mother and her sisters tried to please him, the more he withheld his approval. Finally he rarely graced them with his company at all, choosing instead to send a meager monthly stipend that never quite covered the household necessities.
Misinterpreting her silence for assent, Derek shrugged and answered his own question. “Happy enough to bear six children together, I suppose.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she mused. She pushed aside the specter of her parents’ unhappy marriage, refusing to allow it to shadow her thoughts. That had been her mother’s destiny; but that did not mean it was hers. She would not make the same mistakes. She would not turn herself inside-out to please a man. She would hold on to her dignity, maintain her pride.
Their coach rolled through the tall gates of the Keating estate . Unlike the first time Calla had arrived at Derek’s home, the house, as well as the drive itself, was ablaze with twinkling light, welcoming guests to an intimate supper to celebrate their nuptials.
The effect was stunning, yet something about the forced opulence seemed cold and staged, as though the house, carriage, and servants were all expensive props in some elaborate play, rather than one’s actual home. She cast an appraising eye at her new husband, wishing for perhaps the thousandth time she knew him better. He had elected not to wear the kurta his mother had sent from Calcutta, she noted. Instead he’d donned a suit of black wool serge, looking every inch the proper lord of the realm.
“ You mentioned that your wealth was not inherited with the barony,” she said.
“True.”
“How then did you amass your fortune?” She knew that he was in trade, but little else. “Did you begin your career working for the East India Company?”
He arched one dark brow, a look of dry amusement playing about his lips. He studied her with an air of quiet expectation, as though waiting for her to recognize the folly of the question. When Calla only continued to study him blankly, he shook his head.
“No, ” he replied. “No, the honorable gentlemen of the Company did not deem me a suitable candidate for employment.”
Calla frowned, recognizing the sarcasm lacing his tone but not understanding the reason for it. Then her cheeks flamed. Horrified embarrassment swept over her as she realized her gaffe. It was against Company policy to hire anyone of mixed heritage. In India, Eurasians—those who were half-English, half-native—were legally excluded from military service, land ownership, government pensions, and a host of other rights her own family had always taken for granted.
He leaned back in his seat and stretched out his long legs, silently watching as she worked that out. “Any other questions?” he drawled.
Calla shook her head in mortified silence as the coach rumbled to a stop. A footman attired in formal livery sprang forward and opened the coach door, bringing their conversation to a swift and merciful close.
Derek exited the vehicle, then turned and offered Calla his hand. Once her feet were firmly on the ground, he released her hand. “Ropes,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I made my fortune importing ropes, jute, and sailing canvas from India. I built a small empire undercutting the market by dealing directly with the Dalit , something not even the English were willing to do.”
Calla drew in a sharp breath. The Dalit were India’s untouchables, an entire swath of society that was deemed the lowest of the low. Living in abject poverty,
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