He felt Sarani glance at him, and he felt a swift rush of guilt. He didn’t make the rules of the beau monde, but the scandal if the truth got out would also hurt them, simply by association.

Like his mother, he would do what was necessary to protect his family name.

* * *

The hour was late. Sarani had excused herself from the musicale that evening, citing a megrim and retiring to her room, but she’d really just needed to think. Something Rhystan had said earlier in the tavern kept niggling at her—that he had to keep his family safe as well. While helping her had been part of their bargain, she hadn’t really thought of the other consequences.

Like what being linked to her would do to Ravenna. Or even the duchess.

These aristocrats did not like their social laws bent, unless they were doing the bending. And she, by virtue of her mixed blood, was not one of them. There was only one thing for it: she had to leave for their sakes. Sarani’s heart constricted. Tej would have to stay behind. She would not rob him of such a bright future. To Asha, she would give the choice.

A crashing noise from downstairs made her fly up from the armchair in her bedchamber. That had sounded like breaking glass. Flashes of the glass she’d seen on the terrace of her own palace in Joor filled her mind. No, no, it was simply a servant dropping a goblet or a wineglass. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Snatching a shawl, she threw it over her shoulders and peeked outside. Her kukri were both strapped to her thighs in their usual sheaths—she hadn’t yet disrobed for bed.

It was late, so only a single lamp burned in the corridor. As far as she knew, the dowager duchess and Ravenna had yet to return from the musicale. The hairs on her nape lifted as she crept down the dimly lit staircase. Her nerves coiled, tension filling her veins when hushed voices reached her ears. It had to be the servants, but she would check to make sure, just for peace of mind.

On soundless feet, she rounded the corner to the kitchen, which was also deserted. The dowager must have returned then—no servant would withdraw before she had. Peering into each of the rooms she passed and noting each one empty with no visible sign of broken glass, Sarani halted when low voices trailed from the vicinity of the drawing room.

She frowned and then picked up the pace as Her Grace’s imperious voice cut through the silence. “What do you want?” she asked.