Chapter Eight
D eclan watched her face as they stepped out through a set of trees to see the Chinese Bridge in all its glory. Though the yellow and blue paint had faded over the last year, it was still a lovely sight. Not as pretty were the burned remains of the pagoda, but from this angle it didn’t look so bad.
It took her a moment to take in the view, and though she didn’t immediately gasp about the sight before her, she did smile. ‘That’s quite lovely,’ she said politely.
‘It was constructed for the Grand Jubilee last year. There was a seven-storey pagoda right there, but it caught fire during the fireworks display. It was a sad end to the celebration, but impressive at the time.’
‘You were here?’ she asked.
‘My whole family came to celebrate with the royal house. There were so many people here it looked like a sea of bodies. They were even in the trees—which made it all the more frightening when the pagoda caught fire.’
‘Were many people hurt?’
‘Several.’ They started walking, heading towards the bridge. ‘But only two deaths, thankfully. The Queen was most distressed.’
‘What were you celebrating?’
‘A hundred years since the Hanovers ascended to the English throne.’
‘A hundred years?’
Her eyes widened before she quickly looked away, and he knew she was hiding her thoughts.
‘Are you surprised by that?’ he asked. ‘That England has had the same ruling family that long?’
She shook her head, biting her lip as she stared at the water.
It took a moment before he realised why she had been surprised.
‘How long has your emperor’s family ruled?’
She smiled. ‘The Qing dynasty began nearly two hundred years ago. The Ming dynasty lasted nearly three hundred years before that.’ She glanced around, as if she could see the King and Queen in the shrubbery. ‘China has stood for thousands of years. Twenty dynasties in all. I had not realised how young your country is.’
His brows arched. ‘The Hanovers aren’t our first ruling family, you know. But I suppose...’ He counted on his fingers. ‘We are only six dynasties compared to your twenty, so you have us there.’
She shrugged. ‘China is very old and very large, but I am looking forward to seeing all the best spots in London. You did promise to show me.’
‘I did indeed.’
‘Perhaps we could go at a time when my sister could join us. She has been cooped up inside for so long. She longs to get out.’
‘It would be my honour,’ he said slowly, ‘but I don’t believe she is out yet, is she?’ She looked disappointed at this reminder, and he flashed her a quick smile. ‘I know our customs are strange, but they are for your own protection.’
‘I understand. The wealthy Chinese hide girls away, too.’ Then her next words surprised him.
‘They think it keeps them safe.’
She didn’t sneer as she spoke, but he heard the implied criticism.
‘Women should be cherished and protected,’ he said.
She faced him, her expression rueful. ‘I have never thought ignorance was useful. Indeed, it can be dangerous.’
‘But you stayed hidden on the boat rather than explore new cities. You chose protection.’
She nodded. ‘Some risks are not worth the reward. I had found safety aboard ship.’
‘So you think I am wrong,’ he said, ‘to worry about your sister’s reputation and your own?’
How startling that he found himself smiling at that. No one had dared disagree with him in so long.
‘I have no experience of your customs. How can I judge if you are right or wrong?’
‘But I can tell by your expression—’
‘Do not ask me questions when you will not like my answer.’
Her voice was curt, and he could see how she had tensed as if to run.
Damnation, he was making a muddle of this. After his family had treated her so abominably, he’d wanted to show her that not everyone in England was rude. More than that, he longed to return to their easy camaraderie from the boat.
But how to reassure her without going too far? He was not accustomed to navigating these seas.
‘Miss Richards...’ he began, daring to touch her arm.
Not hard, and not in a way that would restrain her, but to keep their connection for a little longer. He brushed his hand across her upper arm, and that seemed to be enough to keep her nearby even as he let his hand drop away.
‘You recall me telling you about the gamekeeper’s wife? The one who told me story after story?’
‘Yes.’
He winced at the stupidity of his own question. Of course she remembered their conversation. It had occurred five minutes ago.
‘Well,’ he continued, ‘some things she did not put in fables. Some things she said, and then she enforced. Do you know what one of her favourite dictums was?’
‘I do not know what a dictum is,’ she responded.
‘It is a rule to live by. She said it was my responsibility to listen to everyone’s thoughts, no matter how ridiculous. To listen carefully and decide. Not listening, according to her, was the gravest sin of any man, but it was worse for powerful ones. It would be their downfall.’
She arched her brows, challenging him without even saying a word.
He chuckled in response. The woman would not give him an inch that he did not work for. Odd how he found that attractive.
‘What that means is that I don’t want you to hold back your thoughts from me. Others might not be so open, but I demand it from everyone in my circle.’
‘Everyone?’ she pressed. ‘Even your mother?’
He snorted. ‘She gives her opinion whether I ask for it or not.’
He lifted his arm, offering to escort her onto the bridge. Given that she had run ratlines in a storm, the gesture was ridiculous. She had no need for any man to guide her, and yet she smiled at his offer. It was as if no one had ever thought to be polite towards her and, given his aunt’s treatment of her, perhaps that was true.
‘So you wish to hear my unbound thoughts.’ She said it as a statement, not a question.
‘I am eager for it.’
She shot him an arch look. ‘Then you cannot get angry when I do as you ask.’
‘Of course not.’ Then he challenged her. ‘Will you extend me the same courtesy?’
‘Of not getting angry?’ She pursed her lips, clearly thinking. ‘I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t angry,’ she murmured, as if startled by her own thoughts. ‘But I am not angry with you.’
‘I am pleased to hear it.’
That was an understatement. Inside, he was whooping for joy. He guessed that she did not say such things to many people.
‘Very well,’ she said as she made an expansive gesture towards the park. ‘I think this is my favourite place in London.’
It was not the topic they had been on, but he allowed her the pretence.
‘I think you have seen little of the city. London has many other beautiful spots.’
And he wanted to show them all to her.
They were walking now under the remains of the pagoda. It had been rebuilt a little, and repainted, but they could see the remains of the fire in the ragged edges of some of the wood. Paint could not cover everything.
She stopped beneath it and looked up. ‘It must have been a sight.’
He glanced at her. ‘Are you being polite? Surely real pagodas are much more impressive.’
She nodded. ‘They are, but they are structures used for worship. They need to be large. This must have been lovely as a decoration.’
She smiled at him, and he had the feeling that she was meeting him halfway.
‘It is very pleasant now, even without the extra storeys.’
He grinned back at her. ‘Do you know, I haven’t the least idea what to ask you. I want to know everything, but what does one ask first when one wants to know everything?’
He must have surprised her, because she burst out in a delighted laugh. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand, clearly embarrassed, but he gently pulled it down.
‘Do not hide something as wonderful as a laugh,’ he said. ‘I told you, I want to know everything about you.’
She faced him squarely then, her eyes dancing as she studied him. ‘I believe I feel the same. Please, start at the beginning. What did you do as a child, before you went to your gamekeeper’s cottage?’
‘Ran around terrorising my nanny. I ran, I played, I was king of my castle. Or a little prince.’
She frowned. ‘Do you have a castle?’
‘I do, but it is old and crumbling away. No one lives there any more but mice and—’
‘The gamekeeper?’
He shook his head. ‘Goodness, no. My father pensioned him off years ago. He has a handsome cottage nearby, where he plays with his grandchildren and teaches them how to hunt and fish.’
He leaned back against the railing, looking at her. He was fascinated by the mixture of races in her face. Square English jaw topped by golden skin that probably never burned like his did. She had a strong nose, from her father, and a fascinating shape to her exotic eyes. He could stare at her all day, but that would mean he missed all her other fascinating attributes.
He’d never met anyone who challenged his thoughts about the most common things. Who else among his set would bother worrying about a servant’s tasks? Not to mention live her extraordinary life.
‘What did you do as a child?’ he asked. ‘And do not mince your words. I truly want to know.’
She looked away, her shoulders hunching slightly as she spoke. ‘I spent my days stealing food, hiding wherever I could, and getting viciously angry when anyone caught me.’
‘How often did they catch you?’
She shrugged. ‘Very often. I was not very fast as a child, or very smart.’ She looked up to the top of the pagoda, her gaze distant. ‘But I was very, very lucky.’
He was surprised by that. ‘I cannot imagine that you thought yourself lucky. Did you ever have a home?’
‘The temple was my home.’
‘Didn’t they feed you there? Why would you steal food?’
She grinned. ‘Because I was angry. I wanted a family. I wanted nice clothes. I wanted everything I did not have, so I tried to steal it.’
He shuddered at the idea. His parents had been difficult, but at least he’d had everything he’d ever wanted materially. ‘You were caught.’
It wasn’t a question. She’d already said as much.
‘Often. But not everyone in the world is vicious. I was taken back again and again to the temple, where children like me were managed.’
‘Like you?’
She pointed to her face. ‘Those of mixed race.’
‘I think it makes you look stunningly beautiful.’
It was no more than the truth, but she seemed shocked to hear it. Enough that it took her another moment before she continued her story.
‘There was one monk who made it his mission to raise us. No one wanted us, you see, and for a girl that meant the temple or prostitution.’
He nodded. ‘I am glad you chose wisely.’
‘I didn’t choose,’ she scoffed. ‘I was hauled back there, locked in, and treated harshly until I learned to listen.’
He jolted at that, his mind reeling from the way she had been treated for no other reason than the fact that her parents had been from different lands. She’d had no choice in her birth, but even so she’d been reviled.
What kind of resilience would it take to survive something like that? And to come through it as this beautiful, composed woman?
His esteem for her rose.
‘How are you not a bitter, angry shrew of a woman? I mean no disrespect, but my aunt has suffered nothing so severe, and yet she spews venom everywhere.’
Her expression shifted to a kind of resigned acceptance. ‘I am angry. I am bitter. And yet if I remain in those feelings how will I appreciate this beautiful day? This beautiful park? Or the truth that I am dressed in fine clothing and have eaten good food.’
‘Remarkable.’
‘The monks taught me well.’ She chuckled. ‘Probably much like the wife of your gamekeeper and her lessons. I fought like a demon, but they were stronger and smarter than I.’
Amazing. He had not thought they had anything in common, and yet he could see her point. Someone had raised each of them, and that someone had not been a parent.
‘What else did the monks teach you?’
‘To fight. I liked those lessons. And to speak respectfully. But mostly I learned to listen.’
‘To religious lessons?’
‘I didn’t listen very well to those.’ Her voice was rueful. ‘The one monk in particular who took care of me taught me how to listen to what people wanted from me. He said once I knew how to do that, then I could choose my path. I could choose whether I wanted to give it to them or not.’
Such a valuable skill.
‘And are you good at it? At knowing what others want from you?’
She shrugged. ‘Good enough to survive.’ Then she looked around at the park surrounding them. ‘Perhaps I can even thrive. That’s what I want,’ she said, her voice growing softer. ‘Somewhere I can be safe to choose any path I want. To do whatever I want.’
‘And what is that?’ he pressed, fascinated as much by the shifting planes of her face as the emotions they revealed.
‘I don’t really know. There are so many things I want to try. My father wants me to paint. He says I have talent. And I’ve been reading books in English. It’s slow, but I am learning. Lucy wants to manage the buying and selling of cargo. She learned a great deal from the captain.’ She stretched out her arms. ‘I just want to try everything.’ Her arms dropped to her sides. ‘But instead of doing that, I’m learning how to serve tea and dance.’
‘You don’t like those things?’
She seemed to pull herself inward, pressing her hands to her belly. ‘I am doing what I need to.’
To survive. She didn’t say the words, but he heard them nonetheless.
‘Your father wants you to marry,’ he said. It wasn’t a question.
‘He says Lord Domac would make a good husband.’
How gratifying to hear the deadness in her voice at that. He did not wish his cousin ill, but he couldn’t stomach the idea that this extraordinary woman would be married merely for her dowry. She was worth so much more than a boat or a cargo. And his cousin was a fool not to see that.
She would be wasted on Cedric. She deserved so much better.
‘Do you know what my cousin wants?’
She nodded. ‘He wants to impress people. He told me once that he already has a title, and most people bow to that. But those who don’t will bow to money.’ She turned to him. ‘So he wants a great deal of money.’
He nodded slowly as he straightened up from the railing. Then he offered her his arm and they began to stroll again. He didn’t want to completely disparage his cousin. Cedric had some very good qualities, but he was immature. He’d always been impatient, looking for a quick reward. He and his father shared that vice, whereas Declan’s problem was in a dark, explosive temper. It had destroyed his father’s life and had come perilously close to ending his several times.
Thanks to the Byrning legacy, rage was his constant companion. He kept it under control now, but there had been times in his childhood when that hadn’t been the case. Now, as always when he met someone interesting, he resolved anew never, ever to show Grace his temper. It had already lost him good friends and one possible wife. She’d seen him nearly come to blows with a political rival who had drummed up heinous lies about himself and his family. That was the experience that had taught him that lies and insults were commonplace. Their only purpose was to goad him into a violent reaction that would show him in a dreadful light.
He would not let his temper get the better of him again.
Which meant he had mastered his legacy.
Cedric needed more time to master his problem.
‘Do you know what Cedric will do to gain that money?’ he asked.
‘He will marry me for my dowry. But Father says he will honour me as his wife.’
She did understand. He didn’t know if that made things better or worse.
‘Are you in love with him? Do you want to marry him?’
She shook her head, as if that was the silliest question. ‘I want safety. If he is my safest path, then I will choose him.’
‘And if he is not?’
She twisted to study his face. ‘Can a woman be forced to wed in this country?’
He flinched at her words, hating it that she had to think about these things. It was not something he cared to think about ever—but that was his failing, not hers.
‘Yes. Women can be forced. But I will not allow that to happen to you.’
She searched his eyes, her head tilted as if she studied the stars for direction. ‘How will you do that?’
How will you keep me safe?
She hadn’t spoken those words, but he heard the question nevertheless. Inside, he felt every part of him respond to the call. As if she were indeed a woman looking for a saviour, and he a knight of old, searching for a quest.
It was a silly thought, but he would swear he’d heard the trumpet sound.
‘I am a duke, and the head of my family. My cousin is...’ He shook his head. ‘If you do not wish to marry Lord Domac, send word to me. I will see that you are not forced.’
‘Do you think my father would force me?’
His eyes abruptly widened. ‘I...um... I don’t know your father well. Do you think he would?’
‘I don’t think so. He is not a violent man,’ she said. ‘But he has strong beliefs in how I should behave—including whom I marry.’ Her lips curved. ‘That I should marry.’
Declan nodded. ‘A woman is safer in this world with a good husband.’
‘That’s what my father says.’
‘You disagree?’
It seemed as if they were throwing leaves at one another, questions that had no true weight. After all, the world had its rules, whether or not they agreed with them. And yet he found he enjoyed this discussion. She seemed to like it as well. And together they both seemed well pleased.
‘I want to choose my path,’ she said. ‘And I want very much to make a good choice not just for myself, but also for Lucy.’
He could hear her devotion to her sister in her tone, but also the longing of a woman who had never had control of her life. And yet for someone without resources, she had done amazing things with her life.
‘You are the best navigator in China,’ he said, his tone teasing. ‘Surely you can successfully navigate the haut ton .’
She snorted, the sound very unladylike and yet so charming.
‘When your aunt is guided by the position of the stars, then I shall have faith in my ability to steer clear of her.’
‘A fair point,’ he admitted.
‘You know,’ she said, her words teasing, ‘I am not the only female sailor in China. I had the example of a woman far more powerful than I could ever be.’
‘A female sailor?’
‘More than a sailor Ching Shih captains a fleet of boats.’
He shook his head. ‘I cannot imagine it.’
This story was likely a fairy tale, when he preferred the comfort of facts. But he could not deny the animation in her when she spoke the name. And what did he know? China was a very different place from England.
‘I can see you at the forefront of a fleet of ships. You have the strength of will to do it.’
‘Then you have more imagination than most. No one thought I could be a good navigator, but I am one of the very best.’ She arched a brow at him. ‘Will you listen to the tale of China’s famous pirate captain Ching Shih?’
‘I cannot think of anything I want to hear more.’