by Jade Lee
And with that thought, his pain redoubled. His ribs screamed with agony. And Jie Ke knew that Jacob was not fully buried yet.
"What do you mean, no?" Jie Ke demanded of Zhi Min. He had made his second official request. He'd been so confident, he'd even packed their meager belongings. "Do you not understand what I did? I have foresworn Jacob's justice! That is what the abbot wanted of me. I know this! That was his purpose behind this task. I needed to give up Jacob's thirst for revenge." His hands were trembling, his legs weak. Though his ribs burned, he had come to Zhi Min in supplication on his knees. All had been done correctly.
"There is one with whom you have not yet reconciled," Zhi Min said. For all that his voice was gentle, his tone was implacable.
"Evelyn does not require my guidance!" he snapped, stunned by how furious he felt. The anger roared through him not because he said the words, but because they were true. "Evelyn needs a marriage bed. Christopher will be able to give her everything she wants."
Zhi Min nodded, neither arguing nor disagreeing. In fact, Jie Ke had no clue as to what his friend was thinking.
"What do you want of me?" he bellowed.
Zhi Min didn't answer. That was a trick learned very young at the monastery: to be silent while the student ranted and wailed. In time, the answer always appeared.
Except, it did not appear. Jie Ke had no inkling of what his friend expected. So he pressed his forehead to the ground and whispered, "Help me."
Zhi Min sighed. "There is one person here that remembers you as a boy. One person who loves you without condition. She more than anyone needs the peace only you can bring."
His grandmother. Jie Ke did not speak. He did not breathe either, but his body shook. It trembled with the strain of what Zhi Min demanded. "I have been with her," he finally whispered. "I spent the day dancing to her tune with tailor and assistant." His voice gained strength as he spoke, and he pushed up so that he faced his friend. "And servant and tea and everything! I have no need to sit with my grandmother!"
It was no use. Zhi Min had declared the task. If Jie Ke wanted to leave for China, he would have to make peace with his grandmother. He supposed it wouldn't be hard to have tea with the woman.
He sneezed.
He supposed he could sit and have tea. . . . He sneezed again, and pain ripped through his consciousness from his ribs.
The tea would not be so bad. . . .
He sneezed even more. The fit was so harsh, the pain so acute, that he rolled onto his side. Still, the sneezing continued.
Four more sneezes, and darkness began to eat at his vision. Jie Ke lunged for that darkness, embracing it completely. One last sneeze tumbled him into unconsciousness.
Chapter Fourteen
Evelyn forced her heart to quiet. Jie Ke was settled in his room with Zhi Min and their odd servant to help him. She had tried to talk to him. She wanted to see for herself that he was all right. He was quieter than ever. Perhaps he was enacting some Chinese monastic ritual against pain, but despite his swollen face and tender ribs, he seemed almost serene.
Their gazes connected only once. She had been hovering in his doorway, watching as Zhi Min helped him settle on the bed. Jie Ke had groaned and looked up at her. Their eyes met and she felt him stroke her face from across the room. Her lips tingled and her cheeks flushed. She had sprung forward to go to his bedside, but Zhi Min blocked her. And then Jie Ke had spoken. One sentence, but she would remember it for the rest of her life.
"Go talk to your husband."
He had obviously meant Christopher. It was the first he had ever not claimed her as his own, and the devastation drove deep into her soul. Her knees had gone weak, and she'd had to grip the wall for support. The servant had seen her problem, had been kind in his support, but he still gently—firmly—steered her out the door. And Evelyn had not had the strength to resist.
Moments later she was gasping for breath outside. She might have banged on Jie Ke's shut door then. She might have thrown herself at the wooden barrier and screamed her defiance. She didn't even know where her fury came from except that she would not be denied his. . . what? Nightly diversions? Erotic adventures?
What was he to her? And what right did she have to demand his attention when his body was broken?
She had no answers to her own questions. What she did have was a house full of guests who would report her odd behavior to everyone in England. She had seen that Jie Ke was settled; nothing more was required of a hostess. She should now move on, go downstairs, attend any one of the myriad duties that demanded her attention. Her mother could not be everywhere. It was up to Evelyn to see to the rest.
With one last look at Jie Ke's door, she turned to do just that. She would see to her responsibilities. But her mind would not conform. Jie Ke had relinquished her to Christopher.
That was all to the good, wasn't it? No! A thousand times no! She wanted to choose her future. She wanted to pick the man who would grace her bed and father her children. She did not want to be thrown over when she was just beginning to know the man beneath the saffron robe.
But it had all been a fantasy anyway, hadn't it? Nighttime explorations with an exotic monk were all well and good, but there was no future in it. She was to be a countess. And Christopher was right, Jie Ke would never be allowed into the hallowed British peerage. Not if there was any way to keep him excluded.
She frowned and stopped halfway down the stairs. The men had taken an awfully long time coming to the manor. She had assumed it was because carriages and foot traffic clogged the road, but that really wasn't likely. Even in the worst crush, this was still the country. They should have been here long before they had finally arrived. In her relief at seeing Jie Ke alive, she had forgotten how worried she'd been over their unexpected delay.
But now she remembered, and she wondered what exactly Christopher had said to him to make Jie Ke renounce his claim. She started moving again, her destination clear. She even had an excuse as she rounded the base of the stairs. A footman was carrying a tea tray into the near parlor. She stopped him with an impatient wave.
"Are Viscount Cato and Mr. Osborne in there?"
"No, miss, they're in the library. This tray is for Mrs. Whitsun and daughters."
Oh yes, the demands of the gossipmongers. "Get them another one, please. I shall be taking this one." And with that, she lifted the tea tray out of his arms. He was startled, of course, and would likely speak of it to everyone belowstairs, but Evelyn couldn't be bothered with that. "And send Mad-die in to entertain the Misses Whitsun, please. Tell her I expressly requested it of her. Tell her I am begging as her sister." And with that, she turned and headed for the library.
Christopher was there, just as the footman had indicated. He sat and stared into the cold grate, a glass of untouched brandy in his hand. Mr. Osborne sat beside him, his eyes narrowed, his face tight with concern. But neither spoke a word, and she stood in the hallway as long as possible in the hopes of overhearing something.
No luck. And the tea tray was terribly heavy. So in the end, she had to breeze in and set the thing between the two men. The small table was not designed for so large a tray, but she was not going to let so silly a thing deter her. "Good afternoon, gentleman," she said airily. "I have brought some tea, but I see you have found your own refreshments."
They occupied the wingback chairs set around the fireplace. It was an area designed only for two, as it was usually just her brother and her father who used the room. But Evelyn refused to be excluded. While the men were hastily scrambling to their feet, she grabbed a wooden rocking chair and awkwardly brought it around to join them.
Naturally, they were too polite to question her mad behavior. Their gentlemen's code required that they indulge her intrusion by taking the chair from her hands and shifting their own chairs back to accommodate. But that was as far as their chivalry went. Once all was settled, with her sipping tea—and trying not to spill it—in the rocking chair, the
y stared at her, she looked at them, and awkward silence reigned.
"You took a long time to return from the—"
"I would not mention where you were," Christopher interrupted in the hardest tone she'd ever heard from him. "Though I am impressed by your current appear-ance. Quite lovely, actually," he said in a backhanded compliment. "No one noticed your absence?"
"No one ever notices my absence unless something goes undone. I am often at one crofter's hut or another's. Between the servants and my mother, no one pays the least mind:—"
"You have never been under this much scrutiny before," he said with a scowl. "And it is not going to get any easier when you become a—"
"A countess. Yes, I know. Your mother has been most clear on this point. You both have."
"Well, she would know better than any of us."
"What she knows is beyond anyone's knowledge, Christopher, as she has been closeted in her room since our wedding day!"
They all subsided into a glaring silence. Marcus shifted awkwardly in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with what sounded perilously close to a married couple's squabble. In fact, a moment later the poor man pushed to his feet.
"I'm for a bit of a rest. An eventful day and all that."
Evelyn stood as well, guilt making her take his hand warmly. "I am so sorry that you have been party to all this ugliness. Truly, you must stay a few more days and see that I really can be a delightful hostess."
His smile warmed to such a degree that his face took on a surprising beauty. "Nonsense! You have been a delightful hostess and"—he leaned forward to add in a low whisper—"I know quite a few ladies who attend the fights. Contact me next time, and I shall match you up with them. Much less scandalous, and a good deal safer."
She smiled her thanks, but he had already glanced over her shoulder to Christopher. "We'll talk later, if you wish, about that other business."
Christopher nodded. "My thanks, Marcus, for everything."
The men shook hands warmly, and Marcus departed. That left Evelyn alone with Chris, the awkwardness growing until she could hold back her suspicions no longer.
"What other business, Chris? Is it about Jie Ke?"
He looked at her for a long moment, then his gaze slid away, down to the cold fire grate. "Everything is going to be fine, Evelyn. He is leaving soon. He has renounced his claim to the tide."
"He has?" Evelyn narrowed her eyes. Something didn't feel right. If any of this were true, then Christopher would be celebrating. Right now, he appeared more like he was contemplating a funeral. "When did all this happen?"
"He will tell the solicitors when he leaves here. Then we can be married as soon as my father returns to say all is settled."
Evelyn folded her arms. Her belly was churning with anxiety. "Why? Why would he suddenly change his mind?"
Christopher glanced up. "You are the one who said he was merely playacting. That he would renounce everything when he convinced that other fellow that. . ." He waved his hand in the general direction of the monks' bedroom.
"That he was fit to become a monk," she finished for him.
"There! See, you have it then. Apparently, he has done everything he needed to do."
She shook her head. "There is more to it, Christopher. I can feel it. What aren't you telling me?"
He said nothing as he took a long sip of his brandy. After he swallowed, he swirled the dark liquid in his glass, his gaze following the movement of the drink. "I want to be an earl," he finally said. "Don't you want to be a countess?"
"Of course," she answered. The words came out automatically, much too fast for her mind to stop. She had said it so often that only now, a breath after she'd answered, did she wonder if it were still true.
"Do you know my mother has not stopped crying since I returned her money to her," he said abruptly.
Evelyn blinked. "What?"
Christopher frowned at her as if Evelyn were the one who had just abruptly hopped topics. "My mother. She refused the money and begged me on her knees %o reconsider." Horror filled his expression. "On her knees."
She blinked, stunned by the image. "Begged you to what? Take me to Scotland?"
He nodded. "Gretna Green is lovely this time of year. That's what she said. That Gretna Green was lovely, a wonderful place to honeymoon." He looked hard at Evelyn. "Why do you think she is so determined to see us wed?"
Evelyn shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose because she thinks we will be happy together."
"Bah!" he said as he set down his brandy with a heavy clink. For a moment she feared the glass would break, but it held strong. "She is afraid that all your money will go to that monk."
Evelyn sighed. "He is not a monk yet. This whole situation is so that he can become one, remember? A dragon monk."
Christopher waved her comment aside. "She is afraid that I will lose the title. She is afraid that everything I have worked and studied and planned for will be wiped away."
"But that is foolish!" Evelyn returned. "Not all the land goes with the tide. It can't all be entailed."
He shrugged. "Enough is. And without your dower land . . ." He shook his head.
Evelyn leaned forward, trying to understand what had upset him so. "I thought you said they will not recognize him as an earl, that no one wants a saffron-robed monk as an earl."
Christopher nodded, then pushed out of his seat. "Yes, yes, that is all true," he said almost absently. "But we are speaking of my mother and what she believes."
"What she believes," Evelyn echoed, her mind churning fiercely to no avail. "Why is that important?"
"Do you recall our wedding day?"
"Vividly," she said.
"Mama was crying almost from the start."
Evelyn took a moment to think back. Yes, she did believe that Christopher was right. She couldn't remember a moment of that entire aborted service when the countess hadn't been sobbing. But that meant nothing. "Most mothers cry at weddings. My mother started sniffling a week before last."
He nodded. "True, true. Did you know she is dear friends with Mrs. Grayson?"
"The solicitor's wife? Elder or middle? The young one—the one who came to the wedding with Jie Ke—he's not married, is he?"
"Him? No, Tom's not married. I refer to the middle Mrs. Grayson. She and Mama were schoolmates before the marriages put them in vastly different strata. But mother kept the friendship nonetheless."
"Very good of her. Marriage should not eliminate friendships, no matter how large the gulf." And how very odd it was, too, since the countess had not kept her friendship with Evelyn's mother.
The silence stretched, and Evelyn had the distinct feeling that she was missing something very important. Unfortunately, Christopher was making her guess.
"Christopher—"
"Do you recall what the elder Mr. Grayson said? He was angry at the younger one. He said that if his grandson had simply waited a day, we would have been wed. That you would have been out of the middle of this."
"But we knew that already." Evelyn stood, hating to stare up at Chris while he paced before her; at least this way she could see him eye to eye. "Jie Ke and Zhi Min were in London weeks ago."
"But they were delayed."
She nodded. "By the elder Mr. Grayson."
"Why?"
She threw up her hands in disgust. "So that we could be wed! I do not approve of Mr. Grayson's choice in delaying Jie Ke, but he was acting out of kindness. He didn't wish to see us in exactly the situation we are in: unable to wed, unable to continue our lives until all this mess is sorted out."
"Or maybe he knew."
She blinked. "Knew what?"
"Maybe he and mother have reason to believe that Jie Ke's claim is true. That he really is Jacob."
"I thought you didn't believe it. You said he is a charlatan."
Christopher merely shrugged and reached for his brandy. "I don't know what I believe, Evie. I swear to the Lord on high that I understand none of thi
s." And that frightened him. She could see it in the way his hand trembled on the glass. His shoulders were tight and his eyes kept sliding past her to the cold fire grate.
"What do you fear, Chris?" she asked. She took a step forward, but he held himself too aloof. "Do you think that I will marry Jie Ke and you will be left with nothing?"
He shook his head. "I have money and land. Even without you, I won't starve. Neither will my parents or brothers. We will have enough." He released a short laugh. "My father won't think it's enough, but it will be. I will see to it."
She heard the resolution in his tone. He would care for his family. Then she abruptly gasped, realizing something, her hands flying to her throat in shock. "You want to run to Gretna Green! You are worried enough that you want to finish it!"
He blinked, abruptly startled out of his reverie. "What? No! I'll not wed you like that. It would be an insult to us both."
She pulled back, startled that she had read him so incorrectly. "Then what is it?"
"I want to know the truth," he said softly.
"Which truth?" she pressed. "What are you talking about?"
He abruptly lifted his chin, and she saw he had made a decision. "I want to know what my mother knows," he said firmly. Then he bowed to her. "If you will excuse me, Evie?"
"Oh, no!" she cried. "You cannot imagine that I will be left behind—"
"Evie." He abruptly closed the distance between them. Taking her hands, he pulled her close for a kiss. She thought he would take her lips then, that they would touch as . . . well, that they would kiss as lovers. He didn't. Instead, he touched his mouth to her forehead, then wrapped his arms around her waist. It was a warm place to stand, filled with tender understanding in a brotherly kind of way.
"Chris. .." She tried to push him back, but he held her even tighter.
"You must understand, Evie, this is a matter of family. My family."
This time she pushed hard enough that he was forced to release her. "I thought I was part of your family."