Amala was suddenly so overcome with emotion that she had only one thought. She had to get out of the room before she burst into childish sobbing. She didn’t fully understand the source of the emotion roiling inside her, but its intensity was frightening, and she ran as if it might run after her like a wild animal in the woods. She ran through the huge open doors that led out onto an enormous veranda, and she kept running until she felt cool grass on her stockinged feet and realized she’d left her shoes beneath the chair. She slowed her pace and soon found a bench situated against some artistically trimmed shrubbery. She sat down and tried to catch her breath, all the while fighting to swallow back the emotion that had caught her off guard. This was neither the time nor the place to contend with such feelings.

“I seem to keep frightening you,” Henry said, and she let out a breathy scream that verified the truth of his statement. Amala took a deep, sustaining breath, glad at least that it was dark. She was seated with the lanterns on the veranda behind her, which kept her face in the shadows, hopefully concealing any evidence of her emotion.

“Forgive me,” she said, unable to think of a single word of explanation.

“I assume that something I said upset you,” he said and sat down next to her. He held up her shoes, which were hanging from his fingers. “You forgot these.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking them quickly to set them on the ground near her feet. “How silly you must have looked walking out of the ballroom carrying a pair of ladies’ shoes.”

He chuckled. “I doubt anyone noticed, but even if they did, what does it matter? Do you think I’ll be the subject of gossip over tea tomorrow?” He raised his voice comically to mimic a woman. “‘Oh, did you see the way he was carrying those shoes?’” He changed his tone only slightly to offer the other side of the imagined conversation. “‘What on earth was he thinking to engage in such unseemly behavior? It’s scandalous, I tell you. Utterly scandalous.’”

Amala couldn’t help laughing, which eased her nerves and offered some perspective over her concerns. Following their laughter, a silence fell that threatened to become awkward until Henry asked, “How old were you when you came to England?”

“I was nine,” she said. “And now I have spent more than half of my life in England.”

“But still you don’t feel English?” he guessed.