Chapter Thirty-Six
Three days—and more important—three nights without Max had torn Yihui apart. She missed him with an ache that was completely nonsensical. She knew they could never marry. Hadn’t he said so? But the speed with which he had been ripped from her life left her reeling.
Once again, everything in her life had changed.
First, it had been the morning her father had sold her to the Wong patriarch.
She’d been on board the ship by evening and headed to England.
The next time had been when she’d been brought before the English king.
She’d longed for death that day. Instead, she’d killed Lao Gu and ended up protected inside Max’s home.
She’d lived in luxury then, been cared for as the fever took hold, and made friends.
She’d been kissed by Max, and a great deal more. She began to dream again.
Until it had all been ripped away. Now she slept in an old building across from a whorehouse. Her thoughts were filled with plans for the garden, not wishes about marriage. She was in every way freer and safer here, away from the machinations of men.
She was content now, or so she told herself. Unless it was at night, when she ached for Max. Then she let silly tears slip down her cheeks as she wished, prayed, and wanted a man who could not be hers.
At those times, she forgot how hard she had fought for this opportunity. She discounted the bargain she’d struck with Madame Sebata. And she pretended she was too broken in mind and body to escape the lady’s traps.
But by morning, she rose and went to work again.
The bargain was simple. She lived and worked in the building across from the Rose Garden.
She would till the garden, manage customers, tend the whores, and pay rent plus interest on the monies forwarded to her to set up shop.
If she failed to pay, they would own more and more of her business until she had nothing left.
If they betrayed her, she would poison them.
They had moved her into the new building the very next day. At her request, they had also recruited the old woman at the other apothecary shop. Mrs. Druina Parise arrived the very next day carrying a satchel filled with seeds and the recipe book that Yihui had seen in the other shop.
The one thing not under Yihui’s control was the name of the shop. Madame Sabate declared it would be My Lady’s Apothecary. Medicine for women by women who would never be beholden to a man again.
So it was done, and Yihui began to work.
Her feet were still aching despite the bandages, and so Madame Florina offered her a solution. A taciturn Irish woman named Olivia would act as her servant. The woman was thick shouldered and scarred but had a smile that warmed Yihui’s heart. She easily carried Yihui wherever she needed to go.
And so it was done. Nights were filled with aching loss. Mornings had no time for tears as she steadily worked through mental lists of what needed to be done.
The major had found her around noon on the fourth day. Their conversation had been brief, but to the point. She had no time for Max. No desire to see the man. No need to bring the aching sadness of her nights into the day when she had a great deal of work to do.
That didn’t stop her from listening for a man’s heavy footsteps throughout the rest of the day.
He came after dark when she sat at the primary worktable studying Druina’s recipe book.
She knew it was Max by the way her heart leapt into her throat.
She recognized the weight of his step and the cadence of his breath.
Or perhaps, she merely knew it was a man and hoped it was him.
Either way, her desperate wish was rewarded. First, the major stepped into the room and then, quick on his heels, Max filled the doorway. He quickly surveyed the large dimensions of the room, and then he stared at her hungrily, even as he pulled off his hat and stripped away his gloves.
She didn’t move. She couldn’t. For all that she had shoved him from her mind, the sight of him filled her with a churning kind of delight both nauseating and wholly wonderful.
“Yihui,” he whispered.
“Max,” she echoed, equally breathless.
And then neither said a word more.
It was the major who spoke, his shrewd gaze hopping between the two of them. “He would not leave it alone until he heard directly from you.” The major straightened to his full height. “You are safe to say whatever you wish. I will not leave you alone with him.”
Max jerked as if slapped. “I wouldn’t hurt her!”
The major clenched his jaw. “Doesn’t have to be blows to hurt.”
“And just what do you think—”
“Thank you, major,” Yihui interrupted, effectively silencing Max. “I should have guessed he would insist.”
Max immediately turned his focus to her. “Are you so afraid of me?” His voice held shock and hurt.
She wasn’t afraid of him, per se, but dreaded this horrible desire that filled her whenever he was near. She’d barely started to shove down all the things he stirred inside her. Now she would have to start that all over again.
Even as she resigned herself to such a sad task, she drank in the size and feel of him. The hard edge of his jaw and the bold slash of his nose were sweetly familiar. The shadow in his gaze and the slump to his shoulders, though, were more pronounced.
“Not afraid,” she finally said. “I wished to save us both pain.”
He stepped forward, his gaze searching as much of her body as he could see. She wore an old gown, borrowed from the brothel. It hung on her loosely and covered her feet.
“How badly did they hurt you?”
She smiled and twisted in her seat, pulling aside her skirt to show him the bandages. “Very little damage. The wood and plaster saved me.”
He exhaled in relief. “So you will heal?”
As much as it was possible. But then they had already discussed this. “I am better every day.”
She saw the genuine concern on his face and her heart swelled.
“How is your father?” she asked.
His eyes widened at her question. “How can you ask after his health? I would think you want to curse him to the devil.”
Her expression turned rueful. “Perhaps I want to know that he is very ill.” She already knew from Madame Sabate that the duke had suffered an apoplexy.
She knew the symptoms and feared that if the man had not died quickly, the rest of his life would be extremely difficult.
But then her expression softened. “And perhaps I want to know how you fare after his fit.”
Max lifted his hands in surrender. “He is very angry. The right half of his body works sluggishly if at all.” He looked about the room. “Do you know of a brew to help him?” Then he ducked his head. “If you want to, that is. I cannot forgive him for what he did to you.”
“I can,” she said honestly. “If I were not stolen from you, I would never have met Madame Sabate. I have an opportunity now that I will not squander.”
Max nodded slowly, his gaze coming back to her. “And what, exactly, is this opportunity? Madame Sabate is not known for her generosity.”
“Neither am I,” Yihui countered. “I have bargained for advantage all my life.”
There was silence between them. A settling, of sorts, as they began to speak together as they had once done in her bedroom each evening. It was familiar and so sweet, and yet it brought with it a longing that she knew would tear her apart the moment he left.
“My lord,” she began, “we cannot—”
“We can,” he interrupted. “We can speak together as friends. We can talk to each other about our days. For example, I can see that this is something momentous. I want to learn what is happening here. And…” He swallowed.
“And I have learned some things about my father that burn like acid in my gut.” He looked at the stove pressed against the far wall.
“Surely we can have tea together and talk about our day. That would not be so very bad, would it?”
“Of course not.” She spoke quickly, not allowing herself to think about the choice she was making. Or perhaps it was no choice at all since it was already done. The feelings he stirred already flooded her body.
“Thank you, major, for bringing him here,” she said. “I should not have asked you to keep him away.”
The man nodded, his expression polite. “I’ve got work to see to nearby. I can return—”
“No need,” she said. “Olivia will see to my needs.” At the mention of her name, the Irish woman stepped fully into the room.
She had been nearby this whole time, standing right outside in the future garden.
Her expression was fierce, and Yihui could not help but cheer the woman’s transformation.
Yihui knew Olivia to be as kind and careful a person as it was possible to be. Unless she felt threatened.
And while Olivia stood with her brows raised in challenge, Yihui watched Max for his reaction. Rather than affront, Max seemed pleased.
“Shall I set the pot for three then?” he asked.
Yihui burst out laughing. “Do you honestly know how to ‘set the pot’ in any way?”
“Yes, I do!” he retorted. “I did it all the time at school. I just…” He frowned as he looked at the stove. “I don’t recognize how…”
“I’ll do it,” came a fourth voice as Druina pushed her way in from the garden. “Olivia won’t take any tea. She’s a coffee drinker, but—”
The woman shook her head and shrank back outside. Probably too many people in the room for her. She’d be inside in a flash if there were trouble, but for the most part, Olivia preferred fresh air. Even if it was dust-choked London air.
“Good afternoon,” Max said, his eyes narrowing. He was probably trying to remember how he knew her.
So Yihui performed the introductions while the major took his leave. Then within a few minutes, all three of them sat around the worktable discussing their plans for the shop. Yihui didn’t hold back. She told him everything she planned while Max listened with an increasingly alarmed expression.