Chapter Ten #2
“The Romans did much worse, and we revere them.” Benedict was well known for this one statement.
He was famously nonjudgmental about all kinds of choices and predilections.
He was never known to indulge himself, but he was the one Lord Castlereagh called upon to entertain sordid appetites.
It was a dirty, despicable task, but necessity often required flexibility.
Max shook his head in disgust. “She said they broke her feet to prevent her escape.”
“Undoubtably part of it.” Benedict’s voice was grim. “And that explains why she killed him. Someone who is capable of smashing a woman’s feet likely had other vices as well. I expect she did the world a favor.”
Max shuddered. He couldn’t help it. The sight and the smell of what she’d done haunted him. “I don’t blame her, but it doesn’t answer what I’m to do with her.”
“See what Prinny thinks.”
Max let out a snort of disgust. “And that is exactly the problem! I cannot allow Prinny to run my life.”
Benedict’s brows rose. “You are speaking of the Royal Prince and Regent. You are his loyal subject—”
“Don’t quote patriotism to me. I am as loyal an Englishman as any.
More so! But we are speaking about my wife.
The mother of my children, one of whom will become a duke.
You cannot think that such a decision…” His voice trailed off, seeing his defeat in his own words.
If they believed Prinny was fit to command the country, then naturally, he was fit to make decisions on international affairs.
Even ones that required a wedding. Especially those.
“But this isn’t a matter of international importance! ”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m not sure. That’s why I wanted to speak with you.”
Benedict chuckled. “But I am not the expert on Chinese affairs. That’s Sir Staunton’s bailiwick.”
“I know,” Max said miserably. “But he’s in Canton on his expedition and it will take months for any type of communication with him.”
“A year most like. Six months, at least, until he receives your letter. And that long for a response.”
“And what am I to do in the meantime?”
“Exactly what you are doing, I suppose.”
“Making mold tea—”
“And seeing if she survives.”
Max made a sound of fury, one that had been building for longer than this one day.
He’d passed his thirtieth birthday months ago.
Much though he hated to admit it, his father was right.
It was long past time for him to begin a useful adulthood.
One that didn’t involve drunken revelries with Prinny or murders in his guest bedroom.
Unfortunately, he had no interest in following his father’s ultraconservative political footsteps.
He would inevitably enter the House of Lords, of course, but at the moment, he would rather drink himself to extinction than blindly follow his father’s dictates.
Lord Benedict—a future earl—understood his frustration, probably better than anyone. The man was older and had fought his father for his unpalatable position in the Foreign Office. Which is why Max chose to listen when Benedict set a long-fingered hand on his arm.
“Diplomacy requires patience. If you wish to pursue such a thing without a foreign appointment—”
“I am the heir to a dukedom. I cannot risk myself abroad without risking the end of the entire title.” Damn his forebearers for not giving him male cousins.
“Then you should have married earlier.”
He knew that. He knew it, but somehow he’d never managed to do the deed.
“Perhaps you could take this opportunity to become our London expert on China.”
“I’d rather help against Napoleon.”
“And I’d rather not marry at all,” Benedict returned. “Our titles exact a price. Did you imagine you would be exempt from that?”
No. But he never expected that doing his duty to king and country would involve marrying a Chinese girl. Trying to distract himself, he turned the discussion to Lord Benedict’s problems. “Tell me about this gel you’re going to marry. The one with the unusual hobby.”
Benedict chuckled. “I believe you have enough burdens for today.”
“What? But I have confessed all to you—”
“And I have not made my interest known to the woman. I doubt she even knows who I am.”
Truly? “She must be a recluse.”
“She is not, but neither is she a social creature. She is well occupied with her own interests, which makes her a perfect wife for me.”
“Because she has no interest in you or your title?”
“Exactly. And now I must bid you goodnight. I have yet one more appointment before I can rest.”
“Now? Good God, you do keep long hours.”
Benedict shrugged. “Make sure to keep me informed. I find myself desperate to learn how this turns out.”
“My life is not a circus sideshow,” Max grumbled.
“Are you sure about that?”
“No,” he reluctantly admitted. “Christopher is right now regaling Prinny with every sordid detail.”
“And I was the lucky one to learn it directly from you.” With that, Lord Benedict doffed his hat and turned a corner to head east. He walked with long, quick strides and a confident air that Max envied.
He was likely on a mission of desperate importance for the Crown while Max went inside to boil water for moldy tea.
Good God, he was a sideshow freak!