Arvind stares at me. “You play the part of the oppressed minority well, Mr. Hartwell, for an Englishman.” His words cut me, and I try not to flinch. I suck in a breath. “While we’re discussing oppressed minorities, shall we talk about whether my marriage would have been legal in your country?” He raises his eyebrows and a bemused expression comes across his face. “By the time of your next marriage, it will be.”
