Her Lady's Fortune

by Renée Dahlia

  “I’m so sorry to barge in here.” Eventually she managed to whisper in Priya’s direction.

  “Nonsense. I invited you.” Priya had a strange expression on her face, and Rosalie wanted to bundle her into a hug. The urge to reassure Priya felt wrong when there was so much unsaid between them, and she glanced around the little box instead, tearing her gaze away from Priya.

  “Champagne?” Priya asked.

  “Yes please.”

  Priya nodded her head to the side of the box, and Rosalie followed. In reality it was only a few steps from the others, but it felt slightly more private. An illusion. Rosalie ought to remember that other people were present. She couldn’t reach out to touch Priya’s hand. Too late. Priya handed her a flute of bubbling champagne and their fingers brushed. Gooseflesh rose along her arms.

  “There’s no good way to say this.” Priya snatched her hand away and folded her arms with a jangle of bracelets. A cold chill ran down Rosalie’s spine. She wanted to growl and say, ‘say it quickly and put me out of my misery’, but she said nothing. In truth, her tongue felt thick and unable to function.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  That was the last thing she’d expected. She managed to stammer out a response. “You do?”

  “Yes. Although now isn’t the best time.” Priya glanced over her shoulder. If it wasn’t for the three people that Priya had indicated, Rosalie might have traced her finger along the elegant twist in Priya’s neck. All her hair was piled up again, with a few loose curls dangling temptingly across the nape of her neck. The gentle turn of her body drew Rosalie’s attention, but even as her fingers twitched in readiness, Priya turned back.

  “Perhaps—” Priya swallowed, her throat shifting the ruby necklace wrapped tight around the base of her neck. “Perhaps we should have dinner later this week.”

  “That sounds great. I will get Mrs Patel to consult my diary for availability.”

  Priya chuckled, low and raspy, and Rosalie’s skin reacted as if Priya had licked her. Her pulse hammered in her wrist.

  “My evenings are free every day for the next week, aside from tomorrow.”

  “I am also booked tomorrow.” Rosalie had been invited to see a client perform at the Century Theatre but as much as she was looking forward to the occasion, she was glad Priya had a prior appointment because she would’ve cancelled in Priya’s favour and disappointed a client. She gulped. Never before had she put her own desires ahead of one of the bank’s clients and the temptation unsettled her. She breathed out slowly; this wasn’t a choice she had to make because Priya wasn’t available tomorrow.

  “That rules out tomorrow and gives me a little more time to find the right phrasing for my apology. Perhaps call the house—Mrs Patel is sure to have our number—and leave a message with our butler, Mr Sharma, when you can spare time.”

  Rosalie couldn’t resist. “Miss Howick, you are so skilled with words, I’m sure you won’t need the preparation.”

  Priya’s smile disappeared. “Thank you? But honestly, as much as this apology is necessary, it does require some privacy.”

  “I’ll always make time for a private apology from you.” She leaned a little closer, pleased to see a light rose blush on Priya’s cheeks. Priya hummed in a low tone and her eyes darted sideways at the rest of the room. Oh. Rosalie straightened up, still unable to look away from Priya’s brown eyes. Almost hidden among the dark brown were a few streaks of gold that caught the light from the bright theatre lights. Had she not noticed before, or was it a trick of the light? The gold clip in her hair shimmered under the electric bulbs.

  “Rosalie.” Gloria grabbed her elbow and Rosalie jumped a little.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr Howick has invited us to join him in their box at the Century tomorrow. Their friend is performing a violin concerto.”

  “I’m informed that Miss Sanderson has a prior engagement tomorrow night.” Priya’s cheeky comment sent a flush of heat over her cheeks.

  “Actually, my prior engagement is at the Century. One of the bank’s important clients is playing, and I’m keen to see her.” Rosalie said. The sharp intake of Priya’s breath from beside her sent a shiver across the back of her neck.

  “Therese de Seletsky is your client?” Priya and her brother spoke together.

  “Yes. I take it you know her?”

  Priya glanced at the dancer. “Therese is a dear friend of ours.”

  Rosalie closed her eyes for a second. “Now I must apologise. A few months ago, Mrs de Seletsky came to the bank with a complex problem—”

  “We are aware.” Something harsh in Priya’s tone made Rosalie want to glare at Priya; she would never discuss a client’s confidential problems in public. Was she so low in Priya’s opinions that she might even think that of her?

  “Yes, if you are friends, you would be. I was going to say that I have only now recalled that Mrs de Seletsky was staying with you for a short period as her confidential problem got resolved. I’d forgotten, and I’m sorry I missed that connection.”

  Priya shrugged one shoulder. “Please, don’t apologise, unless it’s to Miss Hayley here. Our chatter about mutual friends isn’t very inclusive.”

  “Don’t mind me, please.”

  “Is your accent American?” Gloria asked.

  “Yes. I’ve been very fortunate to be able to come here and dance.” Miss Hayley had a sensible manner about her.

  “I’m very glad you are here.” Mr Howick sounded completely besotted with the dancer and Rosalie glanced at Priya to see how she felt about it.

  “As am I. Anyone who can make my brother smile is a valuable person.”

  Gloria jabbed Rosalie with her elbow and she chuckled. They often had the same discussion; Rosalie needed to be smile more and enjoy life, ad nauseum. It was mostly in jest because Gloria understood why Rosalie needed to be serious. She was the antithesis of their parents, a hard worker who earned her position at the bank. The job—both acquiring it and doing it well—required a certain level of diligence and grit. To see the same issues play out between Priya and her brother wasn’t at all reassuring. Would Priya also insist that she relax and have more fun? She wasn’t sure she wanted that. She wanted to be respected for the work she’d earned.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Miss Hayley nodded towards Priya, and Priya smiled.

  “You are most welcome. My brother works very hard and carries a lot of expectation from many people, and I’ll always have a soft spot for someone who assists him in carrying some of those burdens, even if it’s only with a smile or two.”

  Mr Howick sent his sister a look of exasperation. “Come now, Priya. Let’s not overstate it.”

  “I empathise Mr Howick. I find that people often only see me as my job and they assume I be in possession of a rigid personality that doesn’t know how to have fun.” Rosalie wanted to test Priya. She tilted her head to the side and stared at Rosalie as if she was carefully considering how to respond.

  “Please don’t misunderstand me. I have the utmost respect for the difficulty of the work that both you and my darling brother do. My pleasure in seeing Mr Howick smile is because I understand his burdens, not because I want to dismiss them.”

  “I see.” Rosalie wanted to ignore the way Gloria’s gaze flickered questioning between Priya and herself. Gloria was too perceptive, and she’d be bound to ask some uncomfortable questions later. The answers to which... well, Rosalie wasn’t sure she was ready to discuss any of it yet. Yes, she was enamoured with Priya. No, they were not in agreement about... well, anything. Friendship, lovers, business rivals or charity providers. None of it was cemented yet. It was rather like trying to walk down a grassy hill in the rain without slipping over and landing on her posterior.

  “Are you enjoying working at Williams Variety Hall, Miss Hayley?” Gloria filled the awkward silence, and the chatter moved on, with everyone discussing their favourite theatre moments. An hour later, when Gloria mentioned that she needed to leave,
Rosalie took the opportunity to say her goodbyes as well. Spending all that time in proximity to Priya with so many questions swirling around was exhausting. The biggest one of all; why did Priya feel she needed to apologise to Rosalie? And for what? Rosalie had been the one to leave without a word that night. Hopefully with this apology, she’d be able to get over that one night so long ago and move on with her life. Was it too much to ask for some closure and a little peace?

  Chapter 5

  Priya spent a week figuring out how to apologise to Rosalie for believing a gossiper’s snide comment years ago. In hindsight, the fact that she’d believed that ‘Rosalie only cares about her bank’ for so long was the ultimate miscommunication because she’d taken that statement and made it about her own issues. The young lady who’d said it was probably only talking about Rosalie’s work ethic. Priya’s stomach churned. All that missed time and awkward tension could have been resolved easily if Priya wasn’t so caught up in her own mistrust of everyone. Now she sat across a table from Rosalie, performing social niceties, which was another form of pretence. It was time to be bold and begin her overly rehearsed statement and finally find out the truth. She needed to stop making excuses for taking so long to examine her bias against Rosalie; the war had demanded her attention, her family taught her caution, ad infinitum... It was all pointless wool gathering in endless pursuit of nothing with no resolution. Priya had taken one phrase out of context and had run with it, a steam train rushing downhill. She’d let it fester because it was convenient.

  “My grandfather Carlingford believed that a business would thrive when people were accountable for their results.” Priya felt awkward using her grandfather’s surname with Rosalie, but she wasn’t about to discuss having never met her other grandfather. The previous Lord Dalhinge had died before she was born.

  They sat in the quietest corner at The Goring Hotel’s main restaurant, although that was a little bit misleading. The Goring wasn’t precisely a quiet place to go if you didn’t want to be seen, being right next to Buckingham Palace with a revolving list of important guests. Priya had selected it for that reason. She could afford to eat here, and it was good promotion for the Rowley Mile project for them to be seen together. If she could get a snippet into the gossip pages of a few newspapers along those lines, she should be able to garner a few more interested parties for her project and some positive news for Sanderson and Sons, and more importantly, for Carlingford Enterprises. There was one other important factor. Being in public view should help her swallow her pride without succumbing to Rosalie’s attractiveness, or at least, that had been her idea when she’d been planning how to achieve this apology. They sat close enough that the smallest shift of her knee would have it brush against Rosalie’s leg, and Priya practically vibrated with desire. She’d spent all week ignoring the physical element of being with Rosalie and now she cursed herself for not remembering the narrowness of the tables at The Goring.

  “He was a wise man who built an incredible business. I’ve been very impressed with the growth that has happened under your brother’s watch.” Rosalie’s short bob cut curled at the ends, framing her face, and the serious expression on her face was far too kissable. No. If Priya were to select a lover, she didn’t want someone driven who worked the same long hours as herself. She was surrounded by people who prioritised work and it was a quality she admired in her family and friends. A roughness filled her throat—she was here to apologise so they could work together with more interpersonal ease—not to regain Rosalie’s affections. She swallowed down a giant sigh at the way she was fooling herself. Of course she wanted more kisses from Rosalie, otherwise she would’ve apologised in a less sensual setting. It might be public, but the entire place was set up for wooing someone from the incredible chandeliers to the much lauded French chef.

  Priya had spent so much time avoiding Rosalie because of the way her body responded in Rosalie’s presence, so many years pretending that she wasn’t still attracted to Rosalie that the charade had become a habit. Rosalie didn’t fit Priya’s version of her life. Instead she made her doubt whether her criteria was actually what she wanted at all. She certainly had a lot of respect for someone like Rosalie who had to fight to get her position in a man’s world and keep fighting to retain it. The idea that she baulked at respecting the person she chose to kiss was something she didn’t want to think too hard about. What did it say about her if she’d rather kiss someone she didn’t respect? Fun kisses didn’t touch her emotions, that’s why.

  Apology first, over analysis later.

  “Much of that growth is due to the war, so I’m not certain he will appreciate your thanks.” Priya wanted to rattle on with her apology before Rosalie had a chance to fill the space with conversation. She wasn’t here to talk pleasantly with her.

  “Granted, the war is a terrible reason to make a profit—” Rosalie’s tone reassured Priya that Rosalie had some understanding of the depth of her guilt over how Carlingford made their profits. “—however, someone had to build those much needed ships so we could win the war.”

  Priya crossed her arms and sat up straighter. “Both my brother and I are trying to ensure we do something good with the financial gain we’ve experienced.” She knew she sounded defensive, but it was the truth. Her habitual use of passive phrasing, as if her and her brother were removed from the function of making war machines, scratched at her skin like a hairshirt. It always did. Carlingford Enterprises hadn’t passively experienced the uptick in business, they’d actively created it. Even if she gave away the entirety of their fortune to good causes, it still wouldn’t be enough to absolve her of being part of a business that produced killing machines. It was the ultimate question that drove her. If she profited from war, did she deserve happiness?

  “Hence the charity. I understand. You feel accountable for your part in the war and you want to make amends.”

  Priya’s mouth dried. “Yes. It’s a Sisyphean task because everyone killed by our ships is gone forever. All those families are destroyed permanently. I do feel accountable for my part in the war, however, I didn’t come here to analyse why that drives me towards philanthropy.” She wiped her clammy palms on her napkin and steadied her pulse with a deep breath in. One problem at a time, and this one had a simple, if difficult to verbalise, solution.

  “Why did you invite me here, if not to discuss the Rowley Mile project.” Rosalie narrowed her eyes a little and Priya tried not to shrink inside. Why was talking about this so hard?

  “One way I’m trying to make amends is to bring a sense of accountability to my life, and therefore I must extend a belated apology to you.” She cringed internally at the stiffness in her words. This sounded a lot better in her head, and when she’d rehearsed it alone in her bedroom. Over and over until it came out like Mr Collins; as if no one would suspect her manners to be rehearsed. Bah.

  “I’m sure that’s not necessary.”

  “It is. It is completely necessary. I hurt you by making the wrong assumptions...”

  “About me?”

  “Six years ago, I...” Priya’s throat felt sticky and she sipped her wine. “Why is this so difficult?”

  “If you’ve been thinking about this for six years, then it has probably built itself up into a giant mountain in your mind, whereas I’m sure it’s only a small incline.”

  “I haven’t been thinking about this for six years. If you haven’t noticed, our nation has been at war and it’s taken a lot of my focus.” Priya clenched her teeth and paused to take a quick breath to slow down her heart and get rid of the snide sarcasm in her voice. “I only realised the awkward truth a week ago when we visited the Rowley Mile site.”

  “I don’t understand.” The confusion in Rosalie’s tone was reflected in the unsteady beat of Priya’s heart.

  “Perhaps the truth is that I’ve thought the wrong thing for six years and my recent realisation that I was wrong has... well, simply put, I need to apologise.” Priya breathed in deep but the extra ox
ygen didn’t help. “For so long I was glad you’d left early that night... afterwards, you know... because I believed—incorrectly—that you’d deliberately seduced me for your own gain. For access to the Carlingford funds.” That unsteady beat in her chest sped up, like an automobile engine that needed tuning, roaring and spluttering with smoke pouring out.

  Rosalie spluttered. “Excuse me.” Her eyebrows rose up and her eyes flashed with emotion. Anger? Surprise? Whatever it was, Priya deserved the censure.

  “I know.” Priya held up her hands. “I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

  There was a long silence and slowly Rosalie’s face softened. “Apology accepted. You were very young and I shouldn’t have simply left without talking to you first.”

  Priya breathed out; a week ago she would’ve stiffened at being told she’d been naïve but she accepted the comment as the truth. Since she’d figured out how wrong her assumptions had been, tension had built in her muscles until she was stiff and now it all flowed out leaving her feeling rather puddle like.

  “The only gain I hoped for that night was...” Rosalie glanced about the room, but they were seated away from others in a private booth at the corner of the room. “...to be with someone beautiful. That it progressed so quickly was a delightful surprise.”

  “But you left.”

  Rosalie bowed her head. After another long pause, she looked up. “I did.” She blinked a few times, and Priya gained the impression Rosalie was sorting out what to say next. “What I don’t understand...” Rosalie asked and Priya held her breath in anticipation. “... is how you got from an amazing evening together with a confusing end to blaming me for coercing you?”

  The air in Priya’s lungs burned, shakily exhaling. “When you say it like that, it makes me sound terrible.” If that was the kindest way to phrase the question, no wonder it had taken Rosalie a moment to work out what words to use.

  “I’m sorry. Can I come back to your assumption? I couldn’t access your inheritance without marriage, and that’s obviously impossible.”