“This is incredible,” Astrid said in a hushed voice as they entered an elaborate chamber where the walls and ceilings were made entirely of mirrored glass mosaic tiles.

“Well, they don’t call this the most beautiful fort in Rajasthan for nothing,” Charlie said.

As they strolled through a reception hall where every surface—from the walls to the ceilings to the floors—was painted in dizzyingly colorful floral patterns, Astrid couldn’t help but comment, “It’s so empty. Where are all the tourists?”

“The fort’s actually closed today, but Shivraj had the place opened just for us.”

“How sweet of him. So this fort belongs to his family?”

“Since the fifteenth century. It’s one of the only forts in India that’s still controlled by the original ruling family that built it.”

“Am I going to get the chance to thank Shivraj in person?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you—we’ve been invited to the private residence at Umaid Bhawan for dinner tonight with his family.”

“Great. I wonder if they are related to the Singhs—you know, Gayatri Singh, our family friend who throws those fabulous parties where she displays all her jewels? Her father was a maharaja of one of the Indian states…though I can’t recall which one at the moment.”

“Maybe. I think many of the royal families of India intermarried,” Charlie replied a little distractedly.

“Are you okay?” Astrid asked, noticing his change of mood.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. There’s this amazing room that I’m trying to find for you—I know you’ll love it. I think it’s up these stairs.” Charlie led her up a steep staircase that wound around in a teardrop shape, and at the top of the stairwell they arrived at a long narrow room flanked by arched windows along every wall. In the middle of the room was a collection of golden baby cradles, each more ornate than the other.

“Is this the nursery?” Astrid asked.

“No, this is actually part of the zenana, where the ladies of the palace were cloistered. This building is called the Peeping Palace, because the ladies would come here and peep down on the activities of the courtyard below.”

“Oh, that’s right. The royal wives and concubines could never be seen by the public, could they?” Astrid leaned out a window framed by a distinctive Bengali-style eave, peeking through the little star-patterned holes in the screened window. Then she opened the shutters completely, taking in the view below of the grand marbled courtyard surrounded on three sides by palace balconies.

“Hey, do you want to get your hands painted with henna?” Charlie asked.

“Ooh. I’d love to!”

“The concierge at the hotel told me there’s a henna artist here who does the most incredible work. I think she’s in the museum gift shop. Let me go get her.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, no, stay here and enjoy the incredible view. I’ll get her and be right back.”

“Oh, okay,” Astrid said, a little puzzled as Charlie rushed off. She sat on a bench in the room, contemplating what it would have been like to be married to a maharaja back in the time when they were absolute rulers of their kingdoms. It would have been a life of unfathomable luxury, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of a harem with dozens of queens and concubines. How could she ever share the man she loved with someone else? And were the women ever allowed to wander beyond the palace walls, or even to step onto the elegant courtyard below?

Astrid heard some laughter in the distance, and she spied several women emerging through an arched doorway in the courtyard. How pretty they looked in their red-and-white lehenga cholis. They were followed by another row of women in the same tightly cropped blouses and flowing embroidered skirts, and soon there were about a dozen of them in the courtyard. The women walked single file in a circle as the sound of drumming began to emanate from deep within the fort. Suddenly the women formed a straight line right below where Astrid was standing. They flung their hands in the air, jerked their heads up at her, and began stomping their feet in rhythm to the drumming.

From the archways on the lower floor beneath where Astrid was standing, a dozen men in white came running out between the women to the far side of the courtyard. A Hindi pop song began blasting through the air, and the men and women danced opposite each other in a seductive face-off. They were soon joined by another dozen female dancers in vibrant blue-and-purple saris, streaming in from the north and south gates of the courtyard, as the music got louder and louder.

Suddenly the song stopped abruptly, and the window shutters on the opposite side of the courtyard flung open, revealing a man in a gold embroidered sherwani. He extended his arms toward Astrid, singing a cappella in Hindi. Then the music resumed as the dancers continued to stomp and twirl. Astrid burst out laughing, delighted at the Bollywood spectacle unfolding before her. Charlie must be behind all this! No wonder he’s been acting weird ever since we got here, she thought.

The man disappeared from the turret, only to appear moments later in the courtyard leading a band of musicians. The entire troupe danced to the beat of the music, moving in perfect formation. She looked down at the handsome lead singer outfitted in gold, realizing with a shock that it was none other than Shah Rukh Khan, one of India’s biggest stars. Before she could even react properly, the sound of trumpets filled the air, followed by a strange roaring sound. Turning to the main archway into the courtyard, Astrid’s eyes widened in surprise.

Coming through the gate was an elephant festooned with gemstones and vibrant pink-and-yellow patterns painted onto its head, being led by two mahouts dressed in the full regalia of the royal court of Jodhpur. On the elephant’s back was an ornate silver howdah, and perched majestically on one of its seats, dressed in a midnight blue paisley sherwani with matching trousers and turban, was Charlie. Astrid’s jaw dropped, and she ran out of the room onto the open veranda. “Charlie! What’s all this?”

The elephant strode over to her veranda, and she was almost at eye level with Charlie as he sat on top of the elephant. The mahouts guided the elephant so that it stood alongside the balcony, and Charlie leapt off the howdah onto the terrace where Astrid stood.

“I wanted this to be a surprise. I haven’t wanted to tell you until now, but Isabel signed our divorce papers last week.”

Astrid let out a little gasp.

“Yes, I am a free man. Completely free! And I realized that in all the craziness of the past few years, we’ve just talked about getting married as though it was a done deal, but you know, I never properly proposed to you.” Charlie suddenly got down on one knee and stared up at her. “Astrid, you are and have always been the love of my life—my angel, my savior. I don’t know what I’d do without you. My dearest sweet love, will you marry me?”

Before she could answer, the elephant let out another roar, and then curled his trunk upward to grab something from Charlie’s hand. The animal then extended its trunk toward Astrid, waving a red leather box in front of her face. Astrid took the box gingerly and opened it. Sparkling inside was a five-carat canary diamond solitaire, encircled in a delicate floral scrollwork of white gold. It was an unusual setting, unlike anything that a contemporary jeweler might design.