“It shouldn’t but it does, and it’s a fact of the world we live in. It’s not fair but that's the way it is. There’s no point making a fuss over something that can’t be changed.” Amala concluded the same speech she’d made countless times over the years, but Kat likely hadn’t heard the last few words because a gentleman had asked her to dance and she was off again having a marvelous time. Kat certainly did love to dance. Perhaps it was a good thing that Amala wasn’t terribly fond of dancing; perhaps that helped ease her disappointment somewhat. Perhaps it was better if she wore shoes that hurt her feet and kept her from wanting to be on the dance floor, caught up in the movement and color of the main purpose of this event. She told herself all of that was true, but in some tiny, secret place deep inside herself, this was one of those moments when she truly wished she wasn’t different. At home with her family she wasn’t treated as if she was different, but they only had to step outside of the house for her to become an oddity. The local people tolerated her at their social events because her father was a powerful and influential man, and no one would dare tell him that the orphan Indian girl he’d raised as a companion to his daughter was not welcome to attend their balls and picnics and bazaars. And so Amala went dutifully wherever her family went, but she most often remained on the outskirts of whatever was taking place.

“Are you thirsty?” she heard a male voice ask and felt a little startled.

“What was that?” she asked, pretending she hadn’t heard him due to the noise in the room—which was perfectly believable. In truth, she just wanted to be certain he was talking to her.

“I asked if you’re thirsty,” he said, holding a cup of punch out toward her.

“I am, actually,” she said, taking it after she’d set her fan in her lap. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” She took a sip, and he sat in the chair where Kat had been sitting.

“Forgive me if I’m intruding,” he said. “But you looked rather . . . bored.”

“I must try harder to be a better actress,” Amala said and took another sip of the punch, realizing she was much thirstier than she’d realized.

“Not at all,” the man said. “I don’t believe in pretending. We should convey exactly who we are and how we feel.”