I'm just on a roll of updates this week. For me, anyway. I'm well aware that I'm a neglectful and lazy updater. Learn to love it. ;-P So, my lovelies, read on…

Tom's outburst echoes sharply through the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Kartik, chin raised, arms crossed. There is a wary tension in his body, as if he might spring at any moment, tackling Tom.

"Thomas?" Grandmama's voice floats up the stairs, groggy and confused. "Thomas, why are you shouting? Has Gemma been hurt?"

Tom throws a skeptical glance at Kartik before he answers. "Gemma's quite alright, Grandmama. I am the victim. Your graceless granddaughter nearly flattened me on her way down the hall."

Even with a flight of stairs between us, I can hear Grandmama's exasperated sigh. "Gemma, do mind your feet. Mr. Middleton will hardly want a wife with no sense of grace."

I feel myself paling at the thought of Simon. What have I done – to be alone in my bedroom with a man is cause enough to call off a wedding, but to be caught embracing him – and an Indian man, at that! I'd be thrown onto the street, stripped of my family name, my inheritance, everything!

Tom steps into the room, interrupting my thoughts by pulling the door shut with a gentle "click."

Kartik resituates himself, so that he is standing between Tom and I. I'm about to brush him away, to assure him that his gallantry is unnecessary, when I catch sight of Tom's face. His expression is absolutely livid. If I thought shouting at Fee infuriated him, then this could likely stop his heart. Or mine, if he can get around Kartik.

When he speaks, Tom's voice is a low hiss, every bit as dangerous and terrifying as an adder's. "Do you care to enlighten me, Gemma? Surely you have a good reason for embracing a strange man in your bedroom, when you are engaged to be married to Simon Middleton – the son of a viscount, if I may remind you." He forces a false civility into his tone, as if we're discussing the Queen's health over biscuits and tea. The resulting mixture of fury and politeness is more ominous than shouting.

"I…" I can't find any words. I have no excuse. Tom is only accusing me of the very same thing I was anguishing over, not half a moment before.

Kartik takes in my stricken face and defeated posture. The hardness in his expression softens, and he turns towards Tom with earnestness. "Please, your sister has done nothing wrong. I concealed myself in her room, and when she entered, I pushed myself onto her."

Tom looks at me, and I can see the fury in his eyes abating. I am tempted to let Kartik take the fall for me, if only it will soften the harsh contempt in Tom's face. He's never looked at me this way – he's always been arrogant, condescending, impatient, and judgemental with me. But all those rolled together are nothing like the utter loathing with which he regards me now.

"I'd dearly love to call you out for it," Tom informs Kartik archly. "But I have no choice but to ask for this to be kept secret. It would ruin Gemma's –"

"Tom…" I say weakly. No matter how it hurts me, I can't let Kartik lie for me. I can't let him dash in clean all the mess, when I'm the one who's muddied things up. "He didn't attack me," I confess, cheeks flaming. "I – you see – it was mutual!" I finally blurt, feeling as though I might burst into flames for the blush that has consumed me from scalp to toes.

Tom leans away from me, surveying me slowly.

"Don't lie, Gemma," Kartik says, his calm tone more convincing than my own shaky confession.

Tom looks between the two of us slowly, not certain who to believe. "Gemma. What happened? The truth."

"I told the truth. He… I… we kissed." Ah, there goes that wonderful flaming blush again. Surely all this sweating should have some benefit – livening my complexion, perhaps.

"That is all that happened?"

"Yes." I nod, desperate for him to believe me. Most of the loathing has faded from his expression, and now he seems primarily contemplative. He is silent for a long time, worrying his lower lip as he considers the two of us.

Finally, he speaks. "Gemma, you are an absolute fool to endanger your future so thoroughly. You, sir," he gives Kartik a sharp look, "should be locked in irons for breaking into our home and secreting yourself in an unmarried girl's room. However, as this needs to be kept unknown, for Gemma's sake, we are at an impasse. If you will agree to never speak of this, I will agree not to go to authorities." Kartik is unmoving, expressionless.

Tom is stronger and more assured than I've ever seen him. I find I'm torn – half of me is warmed by Tom's obvious care for me, while the other half is annoyed by the way he treats me as an incompetent nitwit.

Tom is already lost in thought again, figuring out the damage control. "If anybody saw him come into the house, we'll need to have a story prepared. We may have to tell Grandmama, just in case…"

The annoyed half wins out. "Tom," I say suddenly, stepping away from Kartik. "Surely, Grandmama would love to meet the young lady you've been courting."

"Gemma." There is a warning in his tone that reminds me so much of Mother.

"Certainly you, of all people, can understand that some things are not easily explained to your family," I continue.

"What are you saying, Gemma?" Tom's eyes flicker between me and Kartik, and I can see the understanding dawning on him.

"I'm saying that everyone has secrets, Tom. Ask Felicity – she's got more than you can count."

"I think I can count more of them, than you," Tom says impatiently. His annoyance has him reverting to his formal snobbery. "Miss Worthington is not inclined to meet my family just yet."

"Then Kartik is not inclined to be treated like a criminal."

Tom sighs, dropping his shoulders in resignation. "Fine. You win, Gemma. Just… consider what you're doing. You're engaged to a respectable, wealthy man. Don't throw that away."

With an effort that seems Herculean, Tom turns and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. The click, though soft, echoes in my ears like a gunshot. The silence that follows is like tidal wave, rushing to fill the space where our argument once hung in the air.

Kartik crosses the room and sinks into the rocking chair by my bureau, breaking the silence with the rustling of his worn clothing. I sit across from him, on my bed, taking in his appearance with the desperation of a starving man who's stumbled across a platter of veal.

His eyes are dark, weary, distant as he stares out my window. His clothes are ragged at the hems, coming loose at the seams. The knees of his trousers have been patched multiple times, and still they are wearing through. His suspenders are several sizes too big for him, and have been knotted several times to compensate for the extra length. His hair, still dark and curly, is a mess of tangles.

"Kartik," I say softly.

He looks away from the window, catching my gaze with soul-jarring force. I have to take a breath before I can speak again.

"I… I don't want to marry Simon."

He says nothing, but his eyes are desperate, boring into mine so forcefully, that I feel the urge to back away. But I don't move.

"When you left, I thought I'd never see you again."

"So did I," he admits, his voice soft and rough. A thrill runs up my spine; I sit ramrod straight.

"And Simon… he was kind to me, and he made interesting conversation, and he liked me – he made me feel wanted."

Kartik looks away, back out the window. I can tell his is still listening by the way he clenches his jaw. The tendons in his neck stand out against the skin as he strains towards the window, as if he could fly through it like a hawk. I want to sit in his lip, trace the muscles under his skin until he relaxes, kiss him until he smiles.

I stay where I am.

"Simon would be a good husband," I say carefully, gauging his reaction. His expression is neutral, but it is strained, as if held on by pins that are seconds away from coming loose.

"But… he's not you."

All tension fades from his body, and Kartik turns to face me, his expression dumbstruck.

"What? What are you saying, Gemma?"

How many times will I be asked that, this evening? "I'm saying – well… I think, I might love you."

What a perfect place to end a chapter! Heehee. Next chapter, we'll find out why Kartik had to leave in the first place, and what exactly brought him back. (More than you might think.) Plus, how far HAVE Tom and Felicity gone? (fyi: that's what Gemma was really trying to get at when she asked them if they had a wedding date yet.) And WTF has Ann been up to all this time?

Remember when I said this would be short? I guess I lied. Because I've been sucked in hardcore. Plus, I have a new AGaTB fic rumbling around in my head, so once I get a few chapters typed up, I'll start posting that one.

Until next time!
inksmudged