Darling Tender Reader

“Yes, it is a fine day, Maharaja,” Lady Lila Chatsworth smiled from under her parasol. The Maharaja Amar Singh looked cool and dry in his red silk jacket with gold embroidery. Lila, however, was already sweating through her pink dress. Perspiration dampened her blonde hair and dripped down the back of her neck.

“Call me Amar,” he said. “I’m so glad you were able to visit. My host’s gardens are said to be the best in the region.” His kind brown eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“It’s my pleasure,” Lila said. “I adore walking, and Lady Asheron’s gardens are exquisite.” Both statements were true, but Lila preferred walking in a cooler dress, in cooler weather, and without her corset laced so tightly. Lila had met Amar at the Wimbles’ ball a few weeks prior, and he had called on her three times since.

“Bhai, is lunch ready?” Amar asked a man hovering nearby. The Indian man was tall, with thick dark hair and a full beard. He wore a dark English suit, and intelligent brown eyes peered out from behind wire-rimmed glasses.

“Yes, Amar,” the man said. “Everything is on the east grounds.” They walked around the extensive stone house past neatly trimmed hedges and perfectly groomed bushes. Lila admired the flowers with Amar, naming the ones he was unfamiliar with. As they walked, Lila’s heel sank into the grass. She tipped backward, her corset and skirts throwing off her equilibrium. Before she hit the ground, two strong hands grabbed her waist. Bhai held her, one arm around her waist and one grasping her arm. He smelled of incense and cloves, and his deep eyes looked at her with concern. He set her back on her feet with a gentle strength.

“Are you quite alright?” Amar asked, startled.

“I’m fine,” Lila said, flushing. “These silly shoes, I lost my balance, but your man kept me from falling over.” The man picked up Lila’s parasol and handed it to her.

“Thank you, Bhai,” Amar nodded. “You’re always there when we need you.”

Bhai bowed, and Amar extended his arm. Lila took it, grateful for the support. The Maharaja’s arm had a wiry strength under the silk, but Lila couldn’t help but think of Bhai’s enormous hands. They rounded a stony wall and found a massive red tent erected on the lawn. The tent was square, and swaths of vibrant red fabric cascaded gracefully from the sides. It looked like something out of a fairytale, and Lila gasped in delight.

“I’m pleased you like it,” Amar smiled. “We raised it yesterday. Bhai insisted we use English tables and chairs. Normally, we have pillows and cushions on rugs.” Lila was relieved. Sitting on the ground was impossible with her corset so tight.

They walked into the tent, where the temperature was cooler, though still hot. In the middle was a table crowded with covered bowls and platters. Lila handed her parasol to an English maid standing in the corner. Amar’s manservant, or whatever he was, pulled out her chair, and Lila sat.

While Amar spoke to another servant, Lila surreptitiously pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the sweat trickling down her neck. She knew Bhai standing behind her could see, but it couldn’t be helped. As she dabbed at her temples, the air stirred on the back of her neck. She glanced behind her. Bhai fanned her gently with a small fan of peacock feathers. As the air moved the curls escaping her hairpins, Lila wondered how the peacock feathers would feel trailing across her neck.

“So sorry,” Amar sat, and Lila jumped. “I needed to see to a few things.” He gestured to the retreating servant.

“Of course, where do we begin?” She looked at the dishes.

“We should start with the water,” he gestured to small water bowls before them. “This is to wash our hands. It is much nicer if we eat with our hands.” He looked at her curiously, and Lila realized it was a test. He wanted to see if she was adaptable enough to leave convention behind. Lila would rise to the challenge. Her family and estate depended on it.

“Well, then I won’t need these,” Lila removed her white gloves. Bhai stepped forward, and she placed them in his outstretched hand. Amar smiled widely and directed Indian servants to serve them. The stews looked and smelled unusual, but Lila was willing to do anything to save her beloved home. After her father’s death and her brother’s ineptitude, saving the estate was up to her.

Amar showed Lila how to hold the flatbread, and they both laughed at her awkward attempts. He reached out, took her hand in his, and corrected her. Her skin tingled at his touch, and she nearly dropped the bread on her lap.

Finally, she scooped some red sauce with tomato and peas onto the bread and placed it into her mouth. Her taste buds exploded in deliciousness, and Lila moaned in surprise and pleasure. It was as if her tongue had been asleep her entire life and was awakening for the first time. The peas were soft and popped in her mouth.

“It’s delicious!” she told Amar with genuine pleasure and surprise.

“Of course it is!” he laughed. She grinned at him and dug into the food. Remembering only after to attempt grace. It wasn't easy. It was as if she was tasting food for the first time. She licked her fingers, unsure of the protocol but not particularly caring. Amar watched her as she licked her pinky, and she realized the Maharaja approved.

Finally, the servants placed a doughnut soaked in syrup in a small bowl before her. Lila picked up the ball with her forefinger and thumb and bit into it, syrup running down her hand. She swallowed and then sucked her thumb, trying to remove the sticky liquid. Amar froze mid-bite, watching Lila with a hunger a man finishing a meal should not have had.

Bhai stepped up and placed a bowl of water and towel on the table. Lila blinked shyly and put her fingers in the bowl, washing off the stickiness. Amar shifted uncomfortably and impatiently waved the man away as Bhai tried to place a bowl of water before the prince.

Lunch finished, Amar walked Lila back to her carriage. He kissed her hand as he said goodbye, looking up at her through thick eyelashes. Lila wondered if they would feel like peacock feathers against her cheek.

The following day, Lila stood at the drawing-room window deep in thought. She had tried reading the estate ledgers that morning but could not make sense of them. Neither her father nor her brother had bothered with the estate in many years, and Lila worried what would happen if she didn’t secure the funding a marriage would bring. They would likely be thrown out. The servants would lose their jobs, and she and her sister would become governesses or worse. Lila didn’t mind working, but as she glanced at her mother and her sister dozing on a sofa in the corner, she knew they would have a difficult time.

“The Maharaja Amar Singh,” a servant announced. Lila stood near the window where the sun shone through her blonde curls, making her hair a halo around her face. Her mother looked satisfied, so Lila knew the effect was working.

Amar strode into the room with regal confidence, Bhai a few steps behind him. The two men stopped and looked at Lila until she blushed.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming,” Lila went to the tea table. The men greeted her sister and mother, and they all sat around the tea table.

Lila chatted distractedly, her family filling in the gaps. They drank tea and ate sweet, fluffy cakes. As they finished, Amar led Lila to the window.

“You seem to have something on your mind,” he asked her kindly.

“It’s nothing,” she lied.

“Nonsense, I insist you tell me.”

“Well, my brother is in Italy and has left the estate’s ledgers in disarray,” she admitted. “I was looking at them this morning and had difficulty understanding them.”

“Ah yes, that can be confusing,” Amar nodded. “To be honest, I don’t do my books. However, Bhai is excellent at them. He has studied with the greatest mathematicians the world has known.”

Lila frowned. “I’m sure I’ll be able to figure them out with more time.”

“Bhai, Lady Lila is having trouble understanding the estate books. Please look at them and help her organize them,” Amar ordered. Lila’s mother paled, and even Gretta blushed.

“Please, that isn’t necessary,” Lila protested, terrified to share their finances.

“Nonsense, my Bhai is a genius at such things. He will stay and sort it.” Bhai nodded politely, and Amar gathered himself to leave. Lila and her mother saw the Maharaja out. Then, Lila’s mother stomped to her room in shame and fury. Her sister, too, fled. Lila returned to the drawing room where Bhai waited.

“You’d better come with me,” Lila said, then amended. “Thank you for helping us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” the man insisted, pushing back his eyeglasses. Lila led him to the library, where the books were on her father’s desk. His eyes widened at the mess, but he sat and began sorting through the papers. Lila explained what she had found, and he listened and then read through the documents. Lila hovered, wanting to help. Finally, he put her to work.

“You can sort these rent checks by date,” he handed her a stack of papers. “Does your brother have no interest in this?”

“No, my brother has very different interests,” Lila admitted.

“Yes, I think my brother has the same interests.” They smiled at each other in camaraderie. After an hour of working, Lila stretched. Bhai watched, then looked down when she noticed.

“Bhai, would you like some tea and sandwiches?” she asked.

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” the man said. “You know, bhai isn’t my name. That’s just what Amar calls me. My name is Ravi.”

“Ravi,” she said. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll get some refreshments.” Lila hurried off to arrange food. When she returned with a tray, Ravi’s head was still bent over the books. Gray hairs mixed into the dark ones on the top of his head, and she wondered what it would be like to touch them. He looked up when she entered.

“How is it coming?” she asked.

“It’s coming,” he shrugged.

“Please join me,” she led him to a set of chairs near the window.

“You’ve studied mathematics?” she asked him as they ate thick peasant sandwiches of cheese and vegetables.

“Yes, I studied in India and then Oxford,” he said. “They’re very different learning environments, but both fascinating.” He described the universities in India with open air classes and monk-like teachers. Lila asked about the religion and was fascinated to learn about the gods and goddesses. They compared philosophies and realized that they had more commonalities than differences. Suddenly, Ravi looked up at the clock.

“Look at the time. I should get back to work,” Ravi stood. “Though I’d rather chat more with you.”

“I’ll stop distracting you,” she blushed, realizing hours had passed without her noticing. She hurried to her bedroom, where she flopped on her bed. She needed to stop flirting with the handsome man. She lay briefly to take a break from the attractive man in the library.

She awoke to a dark room. The sun had long ago set. Lila would scold her maid tomorrow for not putting her to bed. Her mother was likely not paying her properly. Lila put on her dressing gown and walked down to the library to see how Ravi had faired. She was disappointed he hadn’t said goodbye before he left. The stairs were dark, and she held a candle aloft.

Light glowed from under the library door as she approached. Lila opened the door and was shocked to see Ravi still sitting at the desk. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The top buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing thick black chest hair. He looked up tiredly. Candles burned on the desk and on the mantel behind him.

“You’re still here?” Lila hurried into the room. “Why didn’t you go home?”

“These are a bit of a mess,” Ravi admitted. “But I believe the situation is salvageable.” He added when her face fell. She hurried over, and he showed her what he had done. As she leaned over his shoulder, she smelled the familiar scent of incense and spice, and she realized only her thin nightgown covered her breasts. She stepped away, but in the process, her nipple brushed his shoulder. It hardened against the thin white fabric, and Ravi glanced at her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she stepped back. “I didn’t know you were still here when I came down.”

“No, it’s my fault,” he apologized as he stood. “I wanted to fix everything for you.”

The sincerity and concern in his large brown eyes made Lila’s heart clench. She stepped forward hesitantly. He responded immediately, and their lips joined like magnets. His hands moved to the back of her head as he pulled her to him. His lips were soft and tasted like black tea and sugar. Her hands went to his thick chest hair and stroked it. It was as silky as she had imagined. His hand slid down her neck and to her left breast, which he squeezed gently. She moaned into his mouth. He stopped and stepped back.

“This is not honorable,” he told her. “Amar cares for you. We cannot do this.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “You’re right, but I don’t think I love him.”

“I must go,” he gathered his coat and went to the door. “I’m so sorry.”

As Ravi hurried out the door, Lila looked past him. The footman and the gamekeeper stood in the hallway, checking on the noise. Their shocked expressions confirmed Lila’s fear that they had seen everything.

Lila didn’t sleep the rest of the night. She had ruined everything. Amar would hate her, and Ravi thought she was a monster, which was much, much worse. It made her realize that she loved Ravi, who had always seen her. But it didn’t matter. Her reputation would be ruined by rumor and gossip. The estate would be sold, and they would be homeless. She spiraled into the horror of the situation.

Dawn finally came, and Lila washed and dressed and went to the breakfast room. Two maids whispered as she passed. The rumors were already starting. Her mother was already at the breakfast table when she entered.

“Lila, you fool,” her mother hissed. “Close the door.”

Lila’s heart sank as she closed the door behind her.

“You have ruined yourself and the rest of us,” her mother spat. “My maid told me what you did with the Maharaja’s servant. The entire house knows. Which means the village knows. Soon, the rumor will be all over the ton.”

“He’s not a servant,” Lila protested.

“I don’t care who he is,” her mother shouted. “You are not married.” She stood and slapped Lila hard across the face. Lila’s eyes filled with tears, and she ran into the garden.

Lila sat under a willow tree and cried. She would never outlive the scandal. Rumor would taint her sister, and the estate would be lost.

As she cried, the Maharaja’s enormous carriage appeared over the ridge and down the drive. It stopped, and servants let Amar out of the carriage and into the house. The man wasted no time in dealing a blow. Lila trudged into the house to take what she deserved.

Amar was in the drawing room as she entered, and he greeted her with an enormous grin. Lila stood in the doorway, baffled.

“Sister!” he said. “I must speak to you!”

“Sister?” she asked in confusion.

“Yes,” Amar smiled. “My cousin has professed his love for you and begs to marry you. I am here to arrange it. If you are willing, of course.”

“You’re not angry?”

“How could I be angry?” Amar asked. “My cousin has been searching for his soulmate for many years. He is my most devoted friend and advisor. I could never deny him what his heart desires. I am only happy he has chosen such a fine woman.”

“Of course, I want to marry him,” Lila said. “I love him so dearly. Oh, thank you, Amar.”

“He’s in the garden,” Amar smiled. “He’s very anxious. Go to him and make him the happiest man on Earth.”

Lila turned and ran out into the bright morning. Ravi stood under a large apple tree, his hair tousled and his jacket open. He looked up hopefully as Lila ran across the lawn and flung herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over.

“I suppose that’s a yes,” he said after she stopped kissing him.

“Of course it is,” she laughed. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you,” he told her.

“And you’ve found a way to save the estate,” she continued. “We can live here and improve things.”

“Of course, my dear,” he said as he kissed her hair. “Or I can pay off the debt, and we can buy an estate nearby.”

“I’m sorry?” Lila paused. “What do you mean?”

“Or would you rather live in one of my palaces in India?” he looked down. “We could split our time between the two countries. Whatever you wish.”

“One of your palaces?” Lila asked. “How many palaces do you have?”

“I have four palaces,” Ravi laughed. “I’m the Maharaja’s first cousin. You must know that I’m very wealthy.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” Lila said. He picked her up and hugged her, and Lila realized it didn’t matter where they lived as long as they were together.