The Dragon Earl

by Jade Lee

  One glance at Jie Ke's wan face told Evelyn that this was the last thing he wanted. But it would solve certain problems. She wouldn't be so afraid of pistols at dawn, for example, be­tween Christopher and Jie Ke. But then she imagined Jie Ke in his monk's robe taking his twenty paces, gun in hand, and a nervous giggle leapt from her lips.

  "Evie?"

  "Um, I'm sorry, Countess . . . er, Grandmama, but I believe choice of residence is entirely up to him, don't you think?"

  The elderly lady released a huff of disgust. "Well, of course it is, but I don't think he understands that everyone here is watching him. Or that they judge him unfairly."

  "Oh, I think he does understand," drawled Christopher from directly behind Evelyn, and she had to restrain herself from squeaking in alarm at his sudden presence. As it was, she shot him a glare over her shoulder. He didn't see. His eyes were trained on Jie Ke, who had suddenly straightened and turned to face him.

  Good Lord, another male argument was coming, and just when she thought the evening couldn't get worse. "The room is so close in here," she said, making a valiant attempt to steer the men apart. "Chris, do you think we should open a window?"

  "Grandmama," he answered, completely ignoring Evelyn, "you have already taken upon yourself the expense of an en­tire new wardrobe for this—"

  "If you say 'charlatan' one more time, young man, I swear I shall box your ears!"

  Christopher sighed, dropping to his knees before his grandmother. "Do not let this man into your heart. It will only lead to—"

  "She will not pay for my clothing," Jie Ke said, his voice loud enough to carry in the now silent room.

  Christopher leaned back on his heels enough to stare at his nemesis. "And where would a monk—"

  "Have close to five hundred pounds for Father Smythe-Jones?" He gestured to the man in question on the opposite side of the room. "And more yet to pay for English cloth­ing?" He shook his head. "You are so used to seeing money in one way—on quarter day from crofters and the like. You cannot imagine that a man could have resources beyond his land and his country."

  Evelyn frowned, not understanding what he was trying to say. "You have funds all the way from China?"

  He shook his head, his intense attention warming her face like the rays of the sun. "I am a monk. We have the skills to survive."

  "Of course you do, Jacob dear," inserted the dowager countess. "But I don't think you realize that you need time.

  You cannot remember what it is like to be English all in a day." She gripped his hand, her eyes pleading. "You must gain some polish, dear, away from prying eyes."

  Evelyn saw the struggle within Jie Ke. She doubted anyone else did, but she'd had cause to study him. She watched him swallow, and his too-steady gaze focused on the elderly woman.

  "I cannot go to your home, Grandmother," he said gently. "It would be too far away." Then his sights lifted to pin Evelyn.

  Her breath froze in her chest. Was he declaring that he in­tended to court her? Was this part of his ruse to fool his friend, the other monk? Or was it as real as it felt?

  She had no breath to speak and no thought as to what she would say anyway. She wanted to look to Christopher, to seek solid anchor in him, but she couldn't force herself to do it. When had she ever been able to flee a storm?

  "I believe you are correct, Evie," Christopher drawled from somewhere far, far away. "The room has become quite stuffy. Shall we open one window or two?"

  It was too much. All three of them wanted to stake a claim on her: Jie Ke, Christopher, his—their?—grandmother. Four, if she added the still-echoing pressure from Christopher's mother not to be blindly obedient. Could any of them sim­ply allow her to be herself?

  Abruptly disgusted, Evelyn pushed to her feet.

  "Well, Evie?" Christopher drawled, obviously pleased be­cause he thought she responded to him. "What shall it be? One window or two?"

  "Open them all, Christopher—the windows, the doors, even the flue. I intend to escape." And so she did. She flung open the parlor door and went directly to the back of the house. With a footman's help, she pushed open the back dou­ble doors and walked calmly, confidently out into the night. She walked mindlessly, her feet knowing the path she wanted.

  She didn't pause, didn't stop, didn't even breathe until she came to her destination.

  But once there, she didn't know what to do. In the end, she simply collapsed. She crumpled to the ground, pressed her head to her knees, and began to sob.

  Chapter Nine

  "I knew you'd be here."

  Evelyn jerked upright, her eyes adjusting slowly to the sud­denly dark sky. Had she fallen asleep? She couldn't orient her­self fast enough to respond. But that never really mattered with her sister. Maddie would talk whether or not anyone listened.

  "You always come here when you've had too much. Something about the wind, I think." The girl dropped to the ground beside her. She'd brought a lantern that illuminated her rumpled dress and undone hair ribbons. "You like being buffeted by the wind here. What is this strange fascination you have with weather?"

  "How long have I been gone?" Evelyn's voice came out as a croak.

  "Long enough for Chris to start blathering on about call­ing out the dogs to search."

  Evelyn gasped and started to stand, but her feet were numb and she stumbled. Then she froze because her sister was laughing at her.

  "No, no! Don't go. I was only teasing. Christopher and Mama have everything well in hand. Chris handles the servants almost as well as you do. Jacob or Jie Ke—whatever his name is—has retired from the field. Something about prayers. The rest have remained to slash his reputation to shreds." Maddie sighed and shook her head. "I fear he will not regain his tide no matter who his parents were."

  Evelyn stared at her sister, momentarily stunned by the girl's perception. "I forget that you are much older than you act." Then she winced. She had not meant it to sound like that.

  Maddie reacted as usual, simply laughed off the criticism with a wave. "But it's all to the good, right? Without his tide, you get to marry Christopher and everything will be as it should be—the viscount and his viscountess making proper little babies in their proper little home."

  Evelyn rolled her eyes, taking comfort from this familiar sisterly argument. "Only you could make such a good life sound like a curse. What is wrong with being a viscountess?"

  "Nothing at all," Maddie answered absently. Her agile mind had hopped off somewhere else, and Evelyn could only wait to see where it landed. "It's just so clearly everything you want, one wonders why you ran here."

  Evelyn blinked and took in the vast, windswept plain be­fore her. Or she would have if she could see it; right now it was a black pit of shadows. All she could really sense was the wind. "Here? Why not here?"

  "Because here is where you went when Mama told you it didn't matter whom you met during your Season, you would marry Chris."

  Had she? It was so long ago, she didn't remember.

  "And here is where you ran when that child got trampled and you had to spend all night with her mother."

  "I did not," Evelyn said firmly. "I arranged for the funeral and sent Gus to fetch Mary's sister."

  "You did all that"—Maddie agreed with a nod—"and then right after the sister arrived and the funeral was fin­ished, you came here. Fell asleep then, too. Mama was fran­tic with worry."

  The memory returned. "You found me then, too."

  Maddie grinned. "That time I remembered to bring a pic­nic. Wish I'd thought of it tonight. Some of Cook's apple tarts would be perfect right now."

  Evelyn smiled, her thoughts settling into a comfortable rhythm. The wind pushed hard at her chest, the darkness sur­rounded her, but she was here with her sister. For this mo­ment in time, at least, everything was perfect.

  "So, why are you here?" Maddie pressed.

  Evelyn released a snort that was half laughter and half dis­gust. "Don't I have enough reason? My wedding was inter­rupted by C
hinese monks! Good God, who would ever have thought that?"

  "Hmmm," returned Maddie as she flopped backwards onto the ground. "Yes, that probably was pretty upsetting. I mean, what do you do about the next wedding? Do you or­der a new dress? Everyone's seen this one. And Cook worked so hard on that menu. She made all her specialties. She's fran­tic trying to learn new recipes good enough for the next cer­emony."

  Evelyn spared a moment's thought for her dress, then shrugged and relaxed backwards onto the ground next to her sister. The sky was overcast tonight, so there was little moon and no starlight. And yet, the blackness was even bet­ter this way. No shadows, even with the lantern light. Total emptiness.

  "The countess gave me nearly two hundred pounds to take Chris to Gretna Green."

  Maddie bolted upright. "Never you say! Chris's mother did that?"

  "It would solve the problem of what dress to wear. And Cook would not have to think of a new menu."

  "Hmmm." Maddie's head fell back and she stared up at the sky with a murmur of disgust. "Chris refused, didn't he? Not proper. Would support Jacob's cause, and all that." She spoke in a dry mockery of Chris's rigidity.

  "He's right. Why invite the scandal when everything will be sorted out soon enough?"

  Maddie rolled onto her side and peered at her sister. "Which brings us back to the primary question: why did you run here?"

  Evelyn let the wind wash over her. It wasn't as strong when she lay flat. "Hmm?"

  Maddie popped up onto her elbow. The wind played havoc with her hair, sending curling tendrils into her face. It didn't stop her words, though. "If everything is going to work out, why did you run here?"

  Evelyn closed her eyes. That created total blackness. A void. Safety. "Maybe I'm just feeling impatient. Maybe I want to get on with my life. Get married, have children, do every­thing^—"

  "That a countess should." Maddie's tone was mocking. "Or maybe it's because you were very uncountesslike last night with a certain monk."

  Evelyn's eyes popped open in horror. Maddie couldn't know, couldn't have seen! "Oh my God," she whispered. Her sister had seen. She knew! "Oh my God, Maddie, you can't tell!"

  Her sister reared back, obviously insulted. "Of course I won't tell! I wouldn't do that to you!"

  "But sometimes you just say things. Sometimes they just slip out." Panic clutched at Evelyn's throat. Lord, it would kill Chris.

  "I can keep a secret," Maddie huffed. "I have a few of my own, you know. None quite so salacious, mind you, but—"

  "Maddie!"

  Her sister grabbed her hands and smiled. It was an impish smile full of her good heart and quick mind. It was Maddie through and through—and not in the least bit reassuring. "I won't tell. I swear! But I do wonder what my oh-so-proper sister was doing kissing a man who isn't Chris."

  Evelyn blinked. "Kissing? You thought we were kissing?" Maddie hadn't seen. Thank God!

  Her sister shrugged and tried to look coy. "Well, I assume that was what you were doing. I mean, I only saw you when you came back in. And I know it wasn't Chris who made you look all rumpled like that."

  Evelyn released a breath of relief. "One kiss," she lied. "One gloriously fabulous kiss. And I don't know why!" she added with a wail. "I have been sick with the thought of it all night and all day."

  "Well, truth be told, it was your second kiss, the first being in the morning—"

  "Maddie!"

  "Sorry."

  Evelyn flopped onto her belly and glared at her sister. "This isn't funny. This isn't like me."

  "Are you sure?" Maddie asked, her voice strangely sober. "I mean, you can't be absolutely perfect all the time, can you? Perhaps last night you were the Evie who isn't going to be a countess."

  "But I am going to be a countess. And I am Evie. And you are making no sense whatsoever!"

  "And you went to be with the wrong man. On the lawn." Maddie released a nervous giggle. "I still can't believe ... I mean, Evie, you looked ... I don't know how you looked, but you were happy! Is that what kissing is like? Is that why you couldn't stop yourself?"

  "That's just it," Evelyn whispered in reply, her eyes drifting up and out over the dark field below. "It was wonderful. And it was awful, too." She rolled onto her side. "Maddie ... it wasn't enough."

  "You mean, you want to do it again?"

  Evelyn nodded. "No. I mean, yes, but no. It faded so quickly."

  "It was the middle of the night," Maddie drawled. "I doubt it was quick at all!"

  "My God, what were you doing out of bed at that hour anyway?"

  Maddie bit her lip and looked guilty. "I couldn't sleep and went to the kitchen for some milk. And then you came wan­dering in."

  Evelyn rolled away, unable to bear the sight of her baby sis­ter thinking she was little better than a whore. "It wasn't enough, Maddie, because I still feel empty. How did I get to feel so empty?"

  She heard Maddie sit up to look down at her. "But you've always seemed so content."

  "I thought I was."

  "And you're not now?"

  A deep voice slipped out of the shadows behind them. "She doesn't know how she feels now."

  Both women spun around, but only Maddie gasped in sur­prise. Evelyn had known he would come eventually, that she would have to face him again. Jie Ke was back to wearing his monk's robes, these a bright saffron that absorbed the lantern light.

  "How did you find us?" she asked.

  "I followed your sister." Then he settled down on the ground near them. "That is the problem, isn't it? You have never questioned your future or your life, and then suddenly, here I am and everything is different."

  "Is that how you feel?" she whispered.

  "No. That is how I felt at the temple."

  Maddie shifted uncomfortably beside them. "I don't think you should be here," she said, a bristling protectiveness in her tone.

  "No, it's all right," Evelyn replied, already mentally surren­dering to the inevitable. "I think I need to talk to him. I need to sort all this out."

  Maddie looked uncertain. Jie Ke simply sat, waiting for a decision.

  "I am of age, Maddie. Let me make my decisions as an adult." Then she glanced back toward the house. "Tell every­one I've gone to bed."

  "Mama will check. They're all worried about you."

  Evelyn smiled. "Then tell them I'm walking and will be home by morning. They should be used to that. I do it often enough."

  "Evie—"

  Another figure melted out of the shadows. It was the other monk, his robe so bright that Evelyn was surprised she hadn't noticed him before.

  "May I escort you back, Miss Madeline Stanton?"

  Maddie shook her head, her gaze hopping between her sis­ter and both monks. "This really isn't a good idea."

  "Sometimes," the other monk said, "a man and a woman must find their truths in their own way. They cannot do that except in private."

  Maddie still did not move. She sat there in a half crouch, uncertainty in every line of her body.

  "What do you fear?" the monk asked.

  "I will not harm her," Jie Ke said. "I swear that by all that I hold holy."

  "It's true," put in Evelyn. "He'd never hurt me." She wasn't sure why she believed such a thing, but she did.

  In the end, Maddie nodded. She straightened slowly, then crossed to the other monk. He offered her his arm in a very English gesture, and she took it shyly, almost girlishly. But then she turned, her voice strong in the darkness.

  "Come home soon," she said firmly. "I'll be watching for you."

  Evelyn nodded. "Of course," she lied. It did no good to tell Maddie the truth, that whatever was between her and Jie Ke wasn't going to be resolved in a few minutes. So she smiled warmly at her sister and waved her away. A few breaths later, Maddie and the monk disappeared into the night. That left just herself and Jie Ke alone on a remote bluff.

  "We're going to make love now, aren't we?" she asked him.

  His eyes widened in surprise. "What? Is that wh
at you wish?"

  "Of course not!" she snapped. "I am not a beast driven only by lust." But she was lying.

  "Why ask the question?" he responded. "I had not thought—I did not mean to—" He swallowed. "That is not why I came here. Is it truly what you want?"

  Was it? Why was she pushing for something so completely disastrous? It was too fast, and yet she had been longing for someone to come ravish her for so long. Christopher always refused, and no one else had been allowed near. "Last night was not enough," she said.

  "But it was the best you have ever felt? The most full, the most alive, the most anything ever?"

  She nodded. "For that brief moment, it was everything." She looked at him, pushing up to her feet. She was insane, she realized, completely insane even to contemplate this. And yet, her blood was already pounding, her hands were slick and her mouth dry. She was moments away from the storm and she wanted it with every fiber of her being. She already had one hand to her bodice, ready to pull open the buttons.

  "Christopher will never forgive me," she said, "but I want this so much. I have always wanted this."

  "I will not tell Christopher. He need never know."

  She released a short laugh, in some ways mocking herself as much as him. "You don't sound like a very holy monk."

  He grimaced. "Yes, I know."

  "Is this ... is what goes on here part of the he? Is this so you can convince the other monk—"

  "Zhi Min."

  "Zhi Min," she echoed. "So you can convince him you have won me?"

  He shook his head. "This is for me. And for you. So we can see what we choose between."

  "Married life or your monastery?"

  He nodded. "For me, yes."

  "And for me?" He still hadn't moved. She tugged at her dress, pulling open the buttons on the back as best she could.

  "Only you can say why you do this."

  "Because . . ." She grimaced as the first of the buttons fi­nally came free. "Because I can't stop myself," she lied. "Be­cause you have mesmerized me and I can think of nothing more than letting you have me. Because I must have you or die."