“I’m going to look into Next,” Isha said after swallowing a mouthful of unagi.

“No, you’re not,” Jaya found herself snapping.

Grey looked from her to Isha and back again. “They have a good website.”

Jaya tried not to snarl at him. “That’s not the point, is it? Our family has certain expectations of us. It’s important we adhere to them.” Jaya drank a sip of water and waited for Isha’s repartee, but amazingly enough, she was quiet. Good. Maybe Grey would think she agreed with Jaya.

They ate in silence for a minute, and then Grey said, “Familial expectations aren’t always the only way or even the right way.” He said it like he was biting off each word, like it caused him physical pain.

Jaya couldn’t help the venom that tinged her words. “That’s strange for a British nobleman to say. Aren’t you governed by rules and etiquette?”

Grey held her eyes. “Doesn’t mean I believe in them.”

Jaya sat up straighter. He was making her angry, even though she knew she should hide it for the sake of the bigger goal. “Well, we believe in ours. Our family is everything to us.” She could feel Isha’s eyes on the two of them.

“Family shouldn’t be everything to anyone,” Grey said shortly, stabbing another roll into his mouth and chewing violently. His eyes never left hers. “Family can be unreliable. Family can hurt you.”

Jaya narrowed her eyes. What did he mean by that? But before she could ask him, he threw his napkin down and stood. “Excuse me,” he said, then walked abruptly toward the bathroom.

“What was that about?” Isha asked after they’d watched him disappear into the far side of the restaurant.

“I don’t know,” Jaya said thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on the table. But I intend to find out.

Jaya

Not half bad. Saturday, the night of the mixer, Jaya leaned in close to the mirror and studied her reflection. She’d artfully arranged her curly hair in a half bun, and she wore a Wendell Rodricks dress in wispy pink-and-gold layers that exposed half her back. Pairing the dress with high-heeled gold glitter Manolo Blahnik pumps had been a great idea too. She’d worked hard on this look and it said, in a very casually flirty tone, “Hey, Grey. I’m gorgeous and funny and interesting and into you. You’d be crazy to not go out with me.” She was getting better at this.

And maybe she was imagining things, but she could swear he was beginning to respond to her a little. Granted, it was a bit hard to tell with him. He spent so much of his time in silence. She got the feeling he was completely comfortable being quiet, just watching the world.

It was all right, though. If she could handle elephants in musth, she could handle one antisocial son of a duke.