Chapter Forty-Two
Max did not stay the night, though he clearly wanted to.
“There are things I must do tomorrow morning,” he said. “This morning.”
Her body was sore, her feet aching, but she was loath to let him go. She held him as long as she could, but in the end, he left her. She pressed her nose to the blanket that still held his scent, and she dreamed about what they had done.
Tonight, she’d been loved.
Maybe tomorrow night she could feel it all again.
*
He stayed every night afterwards, sometimes for a short while, sometimes until just before dawn. Yihui’s heart had never been so full. Her days were busy, and her nights were a delight.
For two weeks she prepared the shop to open.
With luck, the customers would find them out of curiosity.
And then, when her feet were better, she would go to the docks to buy what she lacked.
It might take a year or longer before she had enough supplies, but she would work with Druina to find new recipes with English plants.
She always spent afternoons with the duchess, learning everything possible to become presentable at court. It was tedious, horrendous work, but she was making progress. Occasionally, the lady would give her a satisfied smile.
And then, at night, Max would reward her for her diligence. Together they found such bliss that she could not believe her luck. How had she found such perfection? Every day brought new challenges and every night had new joys.
Too bad it could not last. Every moment ticked her life closer to the day she would have to cry off her engagement to Max.
And if she forgot that their time together was nearly at an end, the duchess made sure to remind her.
It was the day before she was to be presented at court, and she did it in the apothecary shop, the one place Yihui thought herself powerful.
“Yihui, I must speak with you.”
So many people had said that to her over the last weeks. So many people had come to her asking for brews for every ailment. But never once had she heard the duchess’s voice in her place of business.
So Yihui looked up with wary eyes and a heavy heart. The only reason the lady would come to her here was because she wanted to bargain. And the only thing the lady wanted was her son’s freedom.
“Welcome to My Lady’s Apothecary,” Yihui said with a smile.
She was in the back mixing room, trying to understand Madame Druina’s recipe book.
The plants here were so different from the ones at home.
She was not sure she could make the transition to English medicines while she waited for seeds from China. “Please sit down, Your Grace.”
She would have leaped off her stool, but she still had to be careful of her feet. Though she could totter about on her heels, Mr. Torres had told her it was best if she waited another month before trying to walk again.
“Would you like some tea?”
“No, I would not,” the lady said tartly. “Really Yihui, you are to meet the prince tomorrow night. Do you really think you should spend your morning working?”
Yihui smiled. “I am not working, Your Grace. I am learning and that is always a lady’s pleasure, is it not?” Those were the exact words the duchess had said to her when she demanded Yihui memorize generations of English kings.
“Don’t be churlish,” the lady returned. “I’ve come to you to discuss something we both care about.” It was clear she thought it an insult that she had to travel to see Yihui.
Rather than argue, Yihui folded her hands and adopted a listening attitude. The duchess was often pleased by this posture. “I am eager to understand.”
“I should hope so.” The duchess looked at her hard, and then she abruptly sighed. She waved imperiously at her maid to leave them alone. Yihui jolted. She hadn’t even seen the girl there, but of course, a duchess never went anywhere alone.
The maid disappeared, the duchess pulled out the near stool, and then settled herself with much shifting of skirt, shawl, and reticule. It took forever, and Yihui found that she hadn’t the patience for it. Not today. Not when she already guessed what was coming.
“Your Grace,” she said, “please let me set your fears to rest. I shall cry off as promised. I will not marry Max.”
The duchess looked up, her regard heavy. “I know he has shared your bed. I’m sure you dream of marrying him.”
“You do not know my dreams,” Yihui returned tartly, even though the lady was absolutely correct.
“Every girl wants to marry a duke, and my son is the best of the lot,” the lady retorted.
Yihui could not argue that point. Instead, she repeated her early statement. “I will cry off. As I have promised.”
“Good.” The lady straightened. “You must do it tomorrow night.”
“What?” At first Yihui didn’t understand the words. But when she did, her entire body rebelled. She would not give up one second of her time with Max. “No! We agreed on the night before the wedding. That was Max’s plan.”
The duchess snorted. “Max’s idiotic plans are what created this disaster in the first place. It was his plan to rescue you, his plan to keep you at the house. And his plan—”
“Your Grace!” Yihui snapped. “You may say what you want about your son in your home. But in mine, I will not disrespect him. It was his plan, and I will honor my bargain with him.”
The lady glared at her, but she could not contradict Yihui’s words. After all, she had been speaking poorly of her own family and that was something that no good woman should ever do, whether Chinese or English.
“Be that as it may,” the lady finally ground out. “Max does not understand the haut ton. He cannot simply declare you have cried off the night before the wedding. No one will believe it. They will think you are being forced.”
“I am being forced!” A month ago, she would not have had the fortitude to speak so plainly.
Not without great fear. But she was an independent woman now.
She was not beholden to anyone, least of all this privileged woman who had no compassion.
If she lost a customer from it, then so be it.
She would not hold her tongue any longer.
“I was forced by my father, who sold me, by the Wongs, who gifted me like a prized goat to the prince. I was forced to kill my attacker because no one else would. And now I am forced to play a game for your benefit, not mine. If I had my way, I would be done with it now.”
It was a lie. She did not want to be done with Max, merely with the games that society played.
She despised the rules that said she could not have the husband she wanted, that Max would suffer from his association with her, and that she must learn all the rules of being English in order to survive here where she had been taken against her will.
Most of the time, she thought little of the ill path that had brought her here. It did no good to dwell on it. But sometimes, resentment boiled up and she could not contain her fury.
“Just like the Wongs, you want to dress me up like a prize pig,” she continued, her voice modulating as she gained control of her emotions. “You want to present me to the prince. I have agreed because it is what I promised Max. Do not seek to change it unless you mean to end it.”
“That is exactly what I mean to do,” the duchess said.
The cold finality in the woman’s voice hardened Yihui’s fury.
It was bad enough to be a toy to powerful men.
It was worse when women did it to each other.
For all that the duchess had softened toward her, it was clear she still thought Yihui an ugly problem to be solved.
She might drink Yihui’s teas, but she would never give her respect.
“What do you want?” Yihui asked.
“Exactly what you do. To end this charade as quickly as possible.” She leaned forward.
“Tomorrow night in front of everyone, you will throw over my son in front of the prince himself. He cannot force Max to marry if you do such a thing publicly.” The duchess leaned back, her expression smug.
“Then you will be free several days early.”
“I am supposed to cry off the night before the wedding. That is several days further along.” Four extra days and nights, to be exact.
“I thought you wanted it ended,” the woman taunted.
“I will honor my bargain with Max,” she countered.
“If I am to change it, then what will you give me in return?” It was a stupid response.
There was nothing the lady could offer that she wanted.
But when cornered, Yihui resorted to bargaining.
She would not discuss her feelings for Max, certainly not with this woman. What was left then, except commerce?
But it brought everything down to the measures of gain and loss, and the duchess was clearly disgusted by that. “I knew you wouldn’t cry off,” she spat. “I knew you would need more.”
Yihui had just confirmed all of the duchess’s worst opinions about her. With a self-satisfied grunt, the duchess withdrew a large stack of notes from her reticule. The lady threw it down on the worktable, the weight of the impact blowing tea leaves onto the floor.
“Is that enough?” she asked.
“No.” The answer was automatic. Yihui had no idea how much money was on the table. She guessed it was a great deal. But the amount didn’t matter. She would not end her time with Max one second earlier. She had found too much pleasure in his touch, too much peace in his arms.
“That is enough to keep your shop alive for years,” the lady retorted.
Then she added to the weight of her offer.
“Don’t you understand? This is for Max! He needs to be free of you.
It must be done in front of the prince, and there must be no doubt that you are the one demanding an end.
It must be a spectacle in front of everyone. ”
“Or what? What will happen if I remain devoted to your son?”
“Then you will be a weight around his neck. Whatever his political ambitions, you will thwart them. And he will never choose a wife while still lusting after you.”
Yihui jolted at those words. She knew that Max lusted for her, but the duchess made it sound filthy and wrong.
“He cannot marry you!” the lady cried. “Have the decency to set him free to find a suitable wife.”
Yihui didn’t look at the stack of notes.
She watched the duchess’s face, saw the throb in her throat, and the panic in the lady’s eyes.
The woman believed that Max would never fulfill his potential with Yihui as his wife.
Worse, she knew her son would not look for another woman as long as he graced Yihui’s bed.
The belief was so strong that the duchess’s heart raced, and her eyes bulged.
She looked on the verge of her own apoplexy, and so Yihui made tea for the lady.
She had to get off her stool to do so, and winced as she tottered on her heels, using her arms to support herself when the weight became too much.
Fortunately, the hot water and the leaves were close at hand.
Even better, the ache was not so bad. Her feet were healing.
Small comfort.
She said nothing as she worked. Yihui needed the time to let her mind steadily pound down the anguish in her heart.
What did it matter, said her mind, if she set Max free early?
Especially if she gained enough money to cover her debts?
And the duchess was likely correct. Without a very public display, Prinny might not believe she had cried off.
He might yet be a problem for Max. Without a very clear end to their relationship, Max might struggle to attach himself to a new woman, an appropriate English woman suitable to his status.
The duchess might be a bitter, arrogant shrew, but she was protecting her son. And if Yihui wanted the best for Max, then she would do well to listen to his mother.
Once the tea had steeped enough, Yihui passed the cup to the duchess.
“If I do this, you must buy my teas. You must tell your friends to buy their medicines from me. You must make sure they know this.”
The duchess reached out an unsteady hand. She took her time before answering. She sipped her tea then stared into the swirling depths of the liquid. And she smiled because she knew she had won.
“I will tell them all to visit you. And you must swear to never see my son again.”
Yihui slowly grabbed the stack of notes. She drew them close though the feel of the paper made her skin crawl.
“I will cry off in front of the prince. In front of everyone.”
“And you will not see my son again.”
She couldn’t force those words through her throat. She couldn’t make herself say what she knew deep down must happen for both their sakes. Could she stand by and watch him marry another? No. Could he climb in her bed after courting another? No. If they were to end, then it must end.
So she tucked the pound notes into the pocket of her work dress and felt filthy from it. Then she looked the duchess in the eye.
“I agree.”
“Excellent. Now I will tell you exactly what to say.”