Going back home had hit hard, especially with her father not being there, but it had also been a chance for her to say her goodbyes to him properly. She was touched to see that a statue had been commissioned to be built in the palace in his memory. Asha, her dearest friend, had chosen to stay in Joor with her family, but Sarani had made sure that she would never have to work again. Sarani would miss her, but at least she still had Tej, who would no doubt be an excellent man-of-business one day.

Rhystan, for his part, had taken to being duke like he was made for it, supporting efforts in the House of Lords to improve the conditions of the people in India and humanizing popular opinion in Britain, hitherto shaped by biased reports. He championed bills that stood against the injustices brought on by colonialism, not just in the east but also in the West Indies, and fought for fair practices in trade and commerce. Unlike most peers, he listened to her ideas and saw them to fruition in chambers, which pleased Sarani to no end. It was satisfying having a hand in changing the tide. She might not wear the wig and the robes, but she was determined to be part of the solution.

Forming close ties with other like-minded women in London, she attended functions organized by the India Office, including events for visiting Indian dignitaries during the season. She had even started a charitable organization for those who had resettled in Britain and needed assistance. Her work kept her busy, but she loved every moment of it.

Rhystan still sailed, but only on occasion. The bulk of his fleet was managed by Gideon.

“A penny for your thoughts, Duchess?”

Sarani smiled at her husband. “Only a penny? My thoughts are worth at least a sovereign.”

“Is that so?” Rhystan scrunched up his nose. “Sounds rather dear to me. Just a month ago, they were half that.”

She turned in his arms and propped herself up on her elbows, chin to her hands. “Would you like me to explain how inflation works?”

Rhystan groaned. “I love it when you use big words.”

“You love it when I don’t use words at all.”

The sheet at his hips tented magnificently. “That’s true, too.”

Sarani laughed. Oh, she loved this man to distraction. And he worshipped her, body and soul.

After their wedding, the gossip rags had gotten tired of writing about how besotted the Duke of Embry was with his wife. They’d fixated on the duke’s younger sister, whose refusal to marry had become almost comically legendary. Rhystan had been at the end of his rope, but Sarani had convinced him to give her time. At nearly one and twenty, Ravenna was hardly on the shelf. She was simply particular about what she wanted. Like her brother.