Chapter Seventeen
“She’s still alive!” gasped Prinny.
Christopher winced. He’d been trying to divert the prince’s attention since the moment he’d arrived that afternoon, but he’d used up all his tiny diversions.
Max had begged him to keep Prinny distracted while Max figured out exactly what he was going to do with his Chinese fiancée.
Christopher had agreed because they’d been brothers to each other since their first days at Eton.
But the Chinese bribe was the talk of the ton.
Everyone wanted to know what was going on, including Prinny, and there was a definite limit to the prince’s patience.
Max’s time was up.
Which put Chris on his heels as he considered his priorities.
First and foremost, he needed to remain relevant to the aristocracy.
The only way he ate in London was by invitation to other people’s parties.
It was also the only way he managed a complex system of favors and kindnesses that translated into his family’s survival.
He cared for an aging dowager’s cantankerous dogs and thereby received a trunkful of old gowns that his mother could remake into dresses for his sister.
He saved a na?ve young lord from card sharks and turned that into several bags of free seed for his tenants plus a litter of pigs.
Favor after favor was parlayed into his family’s survival, but only if he remained here playing entertainer to society’s richest patrons. And few were as rich as the prince regent.
“Come on,” Prinny whined. “What news have you of Max’s fiancée?”
Chris leaned back in his chair, surreptitiously surveying his audience.
If he had to give up the goods on Max, then he needed to wring some benefit from the betrayal beyond dinner at Prinny’s table.
Lord Henderson was here—Ernie to his pals—and Chris had long been working on getting the man’s cooperation on a matter.
“She survives,” he said. “Everyone is agog. Doctors and surgeons alike are flabbergasted.”
Prinny narrowed his eyes. “You said that she was infected. That her fever would kill a normal gel.”
Chris nodded. “She was very ill for several days. But before she passed out that first night, she gave Max instructions for some Chinese medicine.”
Ernie leaned forward, his bushy brows contracted. “Chinese medicine?”
Excellent. He had the man’s attention.
“That’s a secret, Lord Henderson. But I can tell you that finding the ingredients sent Max all over London.
It’s why he hasn’t been here these last days.
” That was a lie. Max had been combing through London trying to talk to anyone who knew anything about China.
The man had even visited the docks to talk to several ship’s captains.
Ernie rolled his eyes. “If her fever has broken, I can assure you it wasn’t because of some Chinese medicine. She either wasn’t that infected or she recovered as a matter of course.”
Damnation, he was losing the man, not to mention the prince who had just called for more wine. Christopher needed them fully entranced by his words, not thinking of their stomachs.
“I believe Doctor Morton is known to you.” He treated half the aristocracy or at least the ones who could afford him. Ernie was status conscious enough that he would surely use the pompous man. “He swore to me that the lady would not live through the night.”
Ernie pursed his thick lips. “He treated my mother. I always thought him a competent man. But even the best can be wrong.”
Prinny looked about the room. “Do I know this doctor?”
No one answered because no one had any idea.
“Have him brought here. I want to talk to him about this Chinese medicine.”
“I doubt he knows much. The surgeon Mr. Torres might know more.” He didn’t say the obvious. Out of everyone, Max would know the most. But he was trying to give his friend as much time as he could.
“Bring them both here. I want to question them.”
Two footmen were immediately dispatched on the errand.
“Very clever of you,” Chris intoned. “Asking them to come here before they know she’s still alive. This way you can quiz them and get their true opinion of her health.”
“My very thought!” Prinny exclaimed. “And you were very clever to work that out.”
Christopher smiled in a vague way while his peripheral vision kept track of Lord Henderson. The man was frowning into his drink, his thoughts obviously churning. A moment later, he smiled in a way that was meant to be friendly if one ignored the meaning underneath.
“I’ll bet you know more about this Chinese medicine than you’re letting on.”
“Hmmm?” Christopher answered. “It was Max who had to find it.”
“But you’ve been to the house every day, haven’t you? You’ve kept us all apprised as to the lady’s health.”
It was the only way to keep Prinny from showing up on Max’s doorstep and upsetting the entire household. “I have done my best to be of assistance to my friend. That hardly means—”
“You know something.” The words were as much accusation as interest. Which meant Chris had caught the man. Now all it required was to reel in the fat bastard.
“Of course, I know things.” He leaned forward under the guise of extending his glass for more wine. And as the footman poured his drink, he whispered to Ernie. “Perhaps, I would be willing to trade you.”
The man flopped backwards, clearly pretending to disinterest. “It’s not worth that much to me.”
A lie. Chris had seen how he gripped his leg, how he winced when he walked. Gout, most likely. What if the Chinese woman had a remedy that had eluded the English?
“Probably not,” Chris agreed. “After all, heathen medicine is rarely what one hopes. But they do, on occasion, discover something unusual. Something from a plant or animal that is not known to us in England.”
“What could they possibly know that our scientists do not? Haphazard mumbo jumbo from witch doctors.”
“True. But even a heathen can get lucky. And a girl can learn a recipe from her father. Especially if he is a respected medical man in his own country.”
The man frowned. “I thought he was a merchant. Wong Hippo or something.”
“Ah, I see you are behind on the gossip. I’m told the lady is not actually the Wong daughter, but a woman kidnapped to be used as a bribe. You don’t think a man would give up his own daughter, do you? Even heathens have feelings.”
“If she’s not the Wong daughter, then who is she?”
“No one, I’m sure,” Chris said with a sly grin. “No one at all.”
The man grunted with clear disgust. “Probably some poor street urchin.”
“Who speaks English? I’m sure all street beggars in China are so well taught.” The sarcasm was thick in his tone.
Ernie straightened even further in his seat, his bushy brows drawing tighter as he thought through the possibilities.
Even Chris wasn’t sure about the truth of Miss Wong’s parentage, but the mystery served him better than the truth, whatever it might be.
He expected to dine at many tables this Season as speculation turned to outright fantasy.
“Why would anyone risk abducting a woman of consequence?”
“I’m sure it wasn’t the intention. And once in the hands of her captor, what’s the poor gel to do? She was told she’d marry the King of England, after all.”
“You think she’s educated then. Not like our women, of course, but in…” He waved his hand in the air. “In heathen things.”
“Oh goodness,” Chris said with a matching wave. “What do I know except what everyone does? She speaks English, was expected to die, but has miraculously survived after sending Max all over London in search of ingredients for a mysterious brew.”
Ernie’s eyes narrowed. “You must tell me these ingredients.”
“No, I must not. Max is my dearest friend. I cannot speak out of turn about his private affairs.”
“Of course you can’t,” Ernie agreed even as he sidled closer to Chris. “But you might be induced to share a secret, couldn’t you? With a very discreet friend. One who was in a position to do you a favor?”
Caught. The man was caught as surely as a wriggling fish on a hook.
“What favor?”
“Don’t be coy. Your brother has been writing me for months now, desperate to curry my favor.”
Chris pretended to shock. “Yours? Whatever for?”
“You know he wants to study at Oxford, but we both know that he hasn’t the pocket to live there.”
“Study should be about merit, not money.”
“And girls should be virgins before they marry. They are not.”
“My brother is brilliant and would be a boon to Oxford.”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt, but he needs my vote to gain admission. And he needs coin to do so without starving.”
What a pig! The only reason Jonathan hadn’t been admitted yet was because he hadn’t the coin to bribe his way into school.
And Ernie was the hold out. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a way.
He’s clever that way.” Actually, his brother was too puritanical or too ignorant to be clever. Which was why Chris had to help.
“Not without my vote, he won’t.”
Come on, come on. Out with it.
Chris didn’t have to wait long. Eventually Ernie gestured for a footman to refill Chris’s wineglass, then he waited while Chris took an obliging sip.
“Tell me what this Chinese medicine is,” he said, “and I will vote for your brother’s admission into Oxford.”
Chris appeared to think about it. Indeed, he did consider it closely and from every conceivable angle. In the end, he decided he could milk this bastard a little longer.
“I do not sell my friends’ secrets,” he said stiffly.
“Not even for my brother.” It was a lie.
He would do it for his brother, if it were the only way.
And so far, this was the only way. “Oh look,” he drawled.
“The doctor is here. Let us listen to see if the lady’s recovery is as miraculous as Max has said. ”
It was. Of course, it was. Chris had been there when Dr. Morton had predicted the girl’s grizzly demise. He had relished his dire predictions and would likely repeat as much to his royal audience. Especially since he had not been apprised of the lady’s survival.
At least Chris hoped he hadn’t.
And so everyone listened with rapt attention as Prinny quizzed the man on Miss Wong’s health. The responses were eloquent, graphic, and absolutely clear.
“She will not survive, Your Highness. And I believe that is a kindness.”
“You are sure?” Ernie pressed.
“Completely. I stake my reputation on that.”
Chris grinned. “And what if she had some mysterious Chinese brew? Something that allowed her fever to break. Indeed, what if that medicine not only broke her fever but allowed her feet to heal such that she might one day walk again?”
“Preposterous. The Chinese are godless barbarians. They do not have such a thing.”
Chris nearly laughed, amused by the arrogance of a man who could condemn an entire people without knowing the least thing about them. Fortunately, it served his purpose as Ernie once again sidled over.
“The girl is completely recovered?”
Chris did not know. The signs were hopeful, of course, but there was a long way between “not dying” and “completely recovered.”
“Ernie,” Chris drawled, “you want the secret Chinese brew. I want my brother to thrive at Oxford.”
“Get me the medicine and I will vote for him. I swear it.”
“I require his admission, not just your vote.”
“I hold sway—”
“Then it shall be easy for you.”
The man grimaced. He appeared to think about it for a long while, but the end was inevitable.
“Very well—”
“And he needs free lodging at a place that shall provide meals. I believe your cousin owns such an establishment.”
“What?”
“The Magdalen Arms, is it not? A central spot for the Oxford elite. He has a few rooms to let?”
“For dignitaries, intelligentsia, and dons! For the prince if he ever wished to travel to Oxford!”
“My brother deserves no less than such a place.”
“But—”
Chris gave the man an arch look. “If you want this miracle Chinese brew, then I want my brother studying in the lap of luxury. It is the smallest of what the boy deserves.” That wasn’t a lie.
His brother, for all his naivete, was the best of the family.
If Jonathan wanted to fill his prodigious mind in Oxford, then Chris would make sure he did it in style.
“I cannot do such a thing! The cost alone—”
“Then I will not betray my oldest friend’s confidence.” And as he spoke, he “accidentally” knocked Ernie’s foot, causing the man to howl in pain. “Goodness, Ernie,” he drawled. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes,” the man snapped. “A greedy earl has taken unfair advantage of me.”
“Hmmm. I wonder what a priest would think of a man who required coin to vote for a student’s admission into Oxford?
Would that be taking unfair advantage?” It was a risk to poke Ernie so hard.
People who accepted bribes didn’t like their sins spoken aloud, and in the prince’s presence no less.
But Chris was tired of fencing with idiots all day, dancing about their vanities, all while trying to carve out a place for himself and his family.
It was men like Ernie who kept even the most deserving down.
“Shut up!” Ernie hissed as if his extortion of prospective students wasn’t known to everyone here. “Very well. If she dances, then I will see to your brother’s comforts.”
“And then I will give you her recipe.”
Now all he had to do was see that the girl survived.