Cinders & Sapphires Read Online Free PDF Page A

turbulent as they had been ever since that night on the Moldavia .
    How had it happened? She had always imagined that if a man tried to force himself on her, she would have screamed, fought, run away—killed herself or him, anything rather than allow her honor to be compromised. But it had not been like that. She could not bring herself to lie, not even to herself. Ravi had not forced himself on her. He had kissed her, and she had kissed him back just as passionately.
    She could feel the color flushing into her face as she thought of it. If only the pink had all been from shame and regret. But the horrifying truth was that it wasn’t. She had kissed a stranger—an Indian boy—and she had enjoyed it.
    “Ada, are you quite well?” Her father leaned toward her. “Your color is very high. Do you feel feverish?”
    Ada managed a smile and shake of her head.
    “I’m just tired,” she said. Her father was so good to her. To have let him down like this, to be deceiving him, was unforgivable. She could feel the sting in her eyes, and she clenched her fingers together tightly to try and stop the tears from falling.
    She had hardly dared to leave the stateroom since that night. The thought of having to meet his eyes across the dining room had made her face burn. It was not hard to fake seasickness when her stomach was churning. What if he boasted of his conquest? What if Douglas Varley found out and told her father? What had come over her?
    You will doubtless never see him again, she told herself. Oddly enough, it was not a comforting thought.
    She stared out at the gentle green fields. It was not exactly raining, but the sky was gray, the boughs dripped with water, and moisture hung in the air like dust. She found herself longing for the release of a monsoon storm. Something—anything—to break the tension.
    There was a sudden hooting, and a roaring like a dragon. Ada sat up, startled. The horses whinnied and she heard the driver’s warning voice. A cloud of dust surged up by the window, and looking out, she had a sudden impression of speed, a strong smell of burning oil, and the glimpse of a man, his eyes covered in insectlike goggles.
    “A motorcar!” Georgiana exclaimed, leaning forward. “Papa, look!”
    “Thank you, Georgiana, I could hardly miss it!” Lord Westlake said with great disapproval.
    Ada exchanged an amused glance with Georgiana before turning to her father with a teasing smile. “You will have to get one of those, Papa. Everyone has them now, you know—like electric light.”
    “Electric nonsense!”
    Ada couldn’t help laughing at her father’s expression. She looked out of the window again, just as the high hedgerow gave way to a smooth, grassy slope running down toward the distant hills and valleys. And there, nestled in the folds of the hills, was a mansion built of honey-colored stone, with more chimneys and windows than she could count.
    “Somerton!” she exclaimed. “We’re…home.”

Rose hurried into the hall, smoothing down her black dress. She thought it was clean, but she hoped she hadn’t missed a stain by mistake. It was hard to keep the uniforms spotless when you were working all day in them, often on your hands and knees. And she didn’t want to make a bad impression—that would really let her mother down.
    Mr. Cooper indicated that she should join the line with the other servants in the hall, waiting for the family to arrive. Rose nervously did so. The hall always made her feel tiny and overawed. The high dome with its Grecian friezes echoed to the sound of feet on the marble floor, and to the side, in a recess, stood the priceless Westlake Vase, a huge, ornate Roman urn that Lord Westlake’s father had collected in Paestum on his grand tour. Rose lived in terror of breaking it, even though there was no chance of that—only Cooper was allowed to dust it. “I hope they won’t want to eat all that foreign muck like they do in India,” Rose heard Martha’s voice say,