Chapter Forty-Six #2
It took a while. The queen was clearly distraught, especially as her husband started shouting, standing up hard enough to bang the desk with his shins.
He howled in distress and no one, not even the footmen went to his aid.
It was Olivia who made a mew of disgust and crossed to the king.
She spoke in a sing-song tone, and he began to quiet to listen. As did everyone else.
It was a lullaby, Max realized, in Gaelic.
The king rocked back and forth to the sound.
It didn’t last long. Eventually the king grew bored and wandered to another corner of the room in search of something. He had returned to muttering to himself, but apparently, the interlude had been enough to convince the queen.
“You will bring the strong medicine here tonight.” She looked at Olivia. “She will stay to serve it to him.”
Olivia turned back, her brows high in surprise. She didn’t speak, but she did bow deeply to the queen. As did Yihui, though it was awkward given her seated position.
“Right away, Your Majesty. Shall Olivia stay here now? Or—”
“She will stay. I wish to speak with her.” The queen dismissed them with a turn of her back.
She didn’t even look to see the way Max and Yihui acknowledged her commands.
And a moment later, Max was lifting up Yihui and praying he could carry her through the entire palace.
She was light, but it was a very long walk.
Or perhaps it wasn’t. As he picked her up, she tightened her arms around him.
She gripped him with the kind of strength he felt only when she was in the throes of passion.
It startled him. By everything he’d seen, she had impressed the queen.
She and Olivia both, which was not easy to do.
Better yet, the queen had asked for her medicines, not just for the king but herself as well.
That was an unmitigated success.
“What is the matter?” he asked. “Do you fear you can’t help him?”
“No,” she said as she pressed her face to his cheek. “I can help the king, if they will let me.”
“Then what?”
She didn’t answer. She just clung to him so hard that her arms began to tremble.
“Yihui,” he said, growing alarmed. “What is it?”
She didn’t answer as he wended his way through the palace. They were led by a footman and followed by another. Neither offered to help, and indeed, he wouldn’t have released her even if they had. She was his, and whatever the matter was, he would hold her. He would take care of it.
“We’ll talk tonight,” he said. “After you get the medicine to the king.”
She shook her head. It might have been a slight tremble of her jaw against his shoulder, but he didn’t think so. And damn it, they were heading back into the party. There would be no conversation now.
As expected, the door was thrown open. The noise of several dozen courtiers swelled and then receded. They all wanted to know what had happened with the queen. Max could already see Prinny heading their way.
“Yihui,” he began, but she interrupted him.
“I love you,” she said. And then she straightened in his arms.
He thought to carry her the rest of the way. Apparently, a footman had called for the palanquin which was wending its way through the room now. Damn it, what idiot wanted such a display right in the middle of everyone? But the more he tried to support Yihui, the more she wriggled away from him.
And then to his shock, she stood upright before him. She tottered on her heels, and she winced in pain as she grabbed the nearby wall. He saw her scan the room, her gaze landing on his mother and sister where they stood with Lady Kimberly.
“Yihui—” he began, but she shook her head.
When she spoke, it was with growing strength. She started in a near whisper, but by the time she was done, everyone in the room heard her words.
“Max, it is time for this charade to end. I am honored by the patriotism of your actions. The prince showed kindness to me, and you honored his regard.”
Honored his regard? What the hell was she saying? It was like she was reciting a speech. “Stop this,” he commanded. “Whatever—”
“Thank you for your indulgence.” She braced herself against the wall as she pulled off the necklace and held it out to him.
“No.” His voice was loud and ringing.
“I am a woman of medicine,” she said, at last sounding more like herself. “The queen herself has seen my worth. But…” Her expression was breaking, even as her chin lifted. “But I cannot wed.”
Oh good God. This was his mother’s doing. This was the public refusal of their marriage. It included flattery of the prince, a repetition of the royal command, and then a plausible excuse for her to throw him over.
“You can wed,” he said, fury starting to color his tone. “You can be both.”
She shook her head, still holding out the necklace. Well, she could stand there all night like that. He would not take it.
But apparently, his mother would. She darted forward, exclaiming loudly, “Oh you poor dear. Of course, of course, we understand your customs. Medicine women in China do not marry. Not allowed. Not in their customs.”
“That’s not true,” he snapped.
It didn’t matter. His mother was already grabbing the family emeralds, pulling the earbobs right off Yihui’s ears.
“This is ridiculous,” he growled as he started forward, but Emma was there blocking him. She grabbed onto his arm and pulled him back.
“Don’t fight this,” she hissed. “It’s better this way.”
“Emma, stop it!” She was like a clinging vine and while he was trying to set her aside, his mother enlisted the help of the other footmen. Faster than he thought possible, Yihui was set in the palanquin.
Finally, he got past Emma, only to be stopped by his mother. And then, to his shock, even Lady Kimberly blocked his way. Three women all telling him to quiet down, to let it happen. This was only logical.
“Stop this!” he commanded, but they wouldn’t listen. Worse, Prinny had also stepped into the breech. Max might be able to bypass the women, but he couldn’t avoid the prince.
So he let it happen. He couldn’t punch out his own mother, much though he wanted to. And though he had gotten past Emmaline, Kimberly stood before him with her arms crossed and a look of challenge. She didn’t need to speak. They’d known each other so long, he could read the question on her face.
What was his plan?
He’d never intended to marry Yihui, so what was the point in making a scene now?
Why follow her in a grand display of lovelorn fury if he could not finish the act?
And then Prinny made it to his side and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Didn’t know she was a medicine woman. Seems they don’t marry. Strange idea to us—a woman who cannot marry—but they’re like nuns, I suppose. Married to medicine.” He chuckled loudly at that thought.
“Your Majesty, that’s not true—”
“It seems pretty clear it is,” the prince boomed.
“Well, that’s done then. You can’t marry her.
Best you look to someone closer to home.
” He grinned at Lady Kimberly. “My lady, I believe Max has partnered with you for this next dance.” Then he clapped his hands before bellowing at the musicians. “A waltz!”
There wasn’t a dance floor set up. There was only the space where the palanquin had been. The musicians weren’t ready either, but at the prince’s command, they scrambled to obey. The first strains of a waltz began, and the prince backed away as he gestured at them.
“Go on. Dance!” He looked around the room. “Everyone! Waltz!”
And so he did. He took Kimberly’s hand and pulled her into a dance. He watched as his mother secreted the emeralds away in her overly large purse. Damn it, why hadn’t he realized she’d planned this? There was no other reason for her to bring such a large thing to the palace.
“Don’t scowl, Max. This was your plan.”
And that was the hell of it. That was why he hadn’t shoved them all aside and run after Yihui. That was why he hadn’t defied his family or his prince.
He could never marry Yihui. A future duke could not have a foreign duchess. Especially not a Chinese shopgirl so different from anyone he had ever known. One did not marry foreign, not because she came from far away but because she was so fundamentally different from everything he had ever known.
Unless, of course, different was exactly what he wanted.
His steps slowed, losing tempo with the musicians. Ever tuned to him, Kimberly slowed as well.
“You once told me that purebred dogs are weaker than mutts. They have known ailments that a mixed breed just doesn’t.”
“Yes,” she said, trying to push him back in tempo. “But mutts are just dogs. They’re not special in any way.”
He stopped dancing all together. “Special just means weaker. Why would anyone want a weaker dog?” He looked around the room.
Others were slowing as well, some even coming to a complete stop to stare at them.
“Kimberly, why do we go to other countries? Why do we want spices from the Orient or silks from China?” He didn’t wait for her answer.
“Because they do some things better than we do. So we trade with countries around the world.”
“Yes. Our ships are unmatched. We explore, we—”
“Bring the strengths of other countries into our own. Why not their people, too? If they know things that we don’t, if they cover our weaknesses and make us stronger?”
She dropped her hands from him, shaking her head in dismay. “We learn from other countries.”
“No, we don’t. We take their product, but we don’t learn. We buy their silk but can’t make it for ourselves. Not as well.”
“We will.”
“Yes, we will. Because learning from other people makes us stronger. Because breeding with other humans covers our weaknesses.”
“Max, we are not dogs!”
“We’re not perfect either!” He looked around, seeing people he had known all his life. Every one had weaknesses, every one could benefit from a larger understanding of the world around them.
Kimberly’s gaze became frantic. “Max, this is who we are. It’s what it means to be English.”
“Weaker. Stupider.” He thought of the king, the product of generations who married their own cousins. “Blind.”
She threw up her hands. “We should all be mutts then?”
“I don’t know about you, Kimberly,” he returned, “but I want my children to be strong. I want them to have the best of two worlds.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He grinned, his resolve growing. All his life, he had been told that England was the best. They were the smartest and the most resilient people in the world. And as a future duke, he was the greatest of the great.
Now he saw the arrogance in that statement.
Other countries had gifts, other people had strengths.
And if England failed to understand the value of other countries, then it was headed toward the downfall of every overly confident fool.
And if he didn’t value other cultures, other skills, then he was in danger of losing the best thing that had ever happened to him.
The love of his life.
“Thank you, Kimberly. You are indeed the best of England, but I already have that.” He laughed. “I am that. Now I want the best of China.”