Chapter Forty-Seven
Yihui could barely function, but the duchess had made sure she didn’t need to. While the woman had taken the ducal jewelry off Yihui, she’d whispered, “The carriage is out front. Go quickly. Do not stop for any reason.”
She hadn’t. She knew that if she looked at Max again, she would change her mind. She would stop the palanquin and beg for a place—any place—in Max’s life. She still might do it. After all, a mistress could have a good life, assuming Max would ignore his wedding vows.
That was a big assumption.
Yihui had spent a great deal of time learning about English wedding customs. She knew that Christian husbands promised to love, honor, and cherish their wives. They considered it dishonorable to have congress with women outside of the marriage bed, but few in the aristocracy kept such promises.
Unfortunately, Max was a man of honor. He wouldn’t break his wedding vows, and she didn’t think she could share him with another woman.
Which meant that this was the end, and no amount of begging would change it. She held back her tears through force of will. She would not cry in front of these people. She would not cry in front of anyone. She would focus on her work and on creating medicine for the king.
As soon as the palanquin cleared the palace doors, she saw the carriage set there to whisk her away. She told it to go directly to the duke’s stables. Blue was there, and she knew Max would not begrudge her use of the pony.
Especially given what she had to do.
It was difficult to maneuver on her heels as she transferred from litter to carriage, but she managed it. And then, once inside the dark vehicle, she allowed the tears to fall.
She allowed herself to double over with pain, to clutch her sides and moan, to weep as if her life were over. How could turning away from a man be so much more devastating than leaving her entire country?
They arrived at the ducal stable too soon. She felt the carriage jerk to a stop and rushed to clean her face. Thank goodness it was dark. They need not see her red eyes or the dark kohl smeared down her cheeks.
Thankfully, one of the footmen was kind.
He helped her wobble into the stable and he even saddled Blue for her.
With his help, she mounted the pony, and she tried not to compare his hands to Max’s sure grip.
Someday, she promised herself, some other man would feel as safe, as smart, and as wonderful as Max.
Or she would be exactly as she had declared—alone for the rest of her days with only her work to comfort her.
With that thought fixed in mind, she guided Blue out of the stable.
She headed home as fast as she was able.
She did her best to ignore the stares of people on the street.
In truth, most were already used to the sight of her on Blue.
She made it home, instructed Druina on what was to be made for the queen, then grabbed a collection jar.
The ducal stables were too clean for what she needed.
She headed to the public stables and the dark, moldy corners there.
If it was hard to transfer from palanquin to carriage, it was even harder to dismount from Blue, strip out of her finery, and then crawl in her shift through the muck to gather mold.
She had already created a place in the apothecary shop to nurture the mold she needed, but for now, all she could do was gather it this way and hope it worked for the king.
She had just finished collecting what she needed when she heard a man come in. Damn it, she had paid a street boy a full shilling to keep everyone away until she was done. She had no defense while she was in there. She could barely stand, and she wasn’t even fully dressed.
Her only hope was to hide, and so she shrank down behind the water trough and damned her skin for showing in the moonlight.
Fear flooded her body, triggering memories of Weed and Pervert, of the raucous laughter of men and brutal hands.
She tightened herself into a tiny ball, but that shifted the weight from her heels to her toes, and she gasped at the pain.
They had smashed her feet. They had held a sword to her neck.
They had drugged her and beaten her and laughed as they made her feel small.
And the one man who had been kind, who had cared for her as no other, was destined for someone else.
Not because the woman was better, but merely because she was English.
The cruelty of the world weighed her down, compressed her into the horse shit as if she were of no account. Little girl crying in the corner with—
“Yihui! My God, what are you doing there?”
Strong hands grabbed her arms, and she struck out on instinct.
“Yihui! It’s me. Max!”
Reality burst in on her. Not just his voice, but the sight of his boots.
Bright-black boots splashed with muck. How they had laughed as they’d fought to get them off him that first night together.
Those were his boots, his voice. That was his strength surrounding her and his body bracing her as she was lifted out of her hiding place.
“Max.” The word was a whisper, but it was no less potent. She threw her arms around him and gripped him with all the fear and pain in her body. He was her rock, and if she released him, she would drown.
“What are you doing?”
“The king’s medicine.”
“Yes, I know. I knew you’d come here. But why are you undressed?”
“I could not damage the silk. Not the green silk that is your color.”
“So you undressed in a public stable?” There was no accusation in his tone. Merely incredulity.
“I paid a boy—”
“Yes, he tried every way he could to delay me. Yihui, a street boy is not the protection you need.”
No, what she needed was him. “I will do better next time.”
“You will send for me next time. Or better yet, send someone else here.”
She nodded. At that moment, she would promise him anything if only he would stay with her for a few more minutes. She needed her heart to stop its frantic tempo. She needed to feel safe once again, if only for a few minutes.
“Come on. Let’s get you dressed and home.”
“The mold—”
“Yes, I see it. Have you gathered enough?”
“Yes.”
He set her back on Blue and then passed her the gown. But when she looked at her knees and arms, she saw how dirty she had become. Not just her own body, but her shift was a disaster. She could not put silk on that.
“Max, I can’t.”
With a grunt, he pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her. Suddenly she was not held in his arms, but she was surrounded by his scent and his warmth.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Let’s get you home. I should like to speak with you.”
She shrank down until his coat all but buried her.
She did not want to have this discussion.
She did not want to hear how he could not have a mistress when he wed.
The duchess had already told her he would marry a proper Englishwoman as soon as possible because of the scandal Yihui had created. As if any of this were her fault.
She knew he would say all these things because the duchess had made that clear while she was grilling Yihui on English history, on English customs, on English manners. A future duke must marry within his own caste.
“No, Max,” she finally managed. “We do not need to talk. I know you will not see me again. Your mother has explained—”
Her words were cut off by his blistering curse.
And then he glared down at the dirty floor.
“I blame my mother completely,” he said.
“Not you, of course, but because of her, this shall be done here and not at all in the proper way of things.” Which made him chuckle a bit.
“Which means, I suppose, that it is all the more appropriate.”
She did not know what he meant. There was too much misery this night, and she still had more to accomplish. She could not take any more.
“Max—”
He grabbed her hands, or he tried to. She would not release her hold on his coat, and so he could only capture one. He held it tight as he looked in her eyes. When he spoke, it felt like the words came through his hand, his eyes, indeed his whole body.
“I love you, Yihui.”
She blinked, tears spilling from her eyes. She knew this. She knew they loved one another, but the world was never kind to lovers.
“I wish to spend my life with you. I want my children to be our children. I want my home to be your home.”
What a beautiful picture he painted.
“And so, Yihui, my heart…” He began to sink in front of her.
“Max!” she exclaimed. At first she thought he was hurt, but then she realized he was going down on one knee.
“Yihui, will you do me the greatest honor and become my wife?”
He was kneeling before her in the stable muck. He was destroying his clothes. He would destroy his standing among the English. They would revile him for this. Not to mention…
“Your father will never allow it.”
“My father has no say in this. I want you, Yihui. I love you. Please say you’ll marry me. We can fight the dragons together because I cannot do it alone. I need you as much, I think, as you need me.”
She blinked. He couldn’t have said what she thought. And yet her heart had already answered.
Yes. Yesyesyesyesyes!
Her whole body sang the word, but she could not force it out between her lips. Instead, different words came out. Different fears.
“Will you take away my apothecary shop?”
“What? No! If you wish to work there, then you may. You should. But I shall demand that you come home to me every night. Indeed, I insist that I be the one to escort you because this…” He looked about them and shuddered. “This is not what I want for you.”
“I will be your wife?” she whispered. “And have my shop, too?”
“If you say yes.”
It was true. He was the best of men, and she was the most fortunate of women. She was so overwhelmed with the knowledge that she couldn’t speak.
“Yihui?”
“Yes! Yes, please!”
He straightened up out of the dirt and wrapped his arms around her. She was no less fast as she threw herself into his arms. And then they kissed as they so often did, with lips and tongues and their spirits fully intertwined.
Sometimes, she realized as she pressed her body to his, Heaven takes everything away just to give it back a thousandfold and in an entirely new way.