She looked down as the ring flopped on her hand. “I will lose it,” she cried.
“It goes over your glove.”
Millie stepped forward, quick to hand Yihui her long gloves. Together they quickly set her to rights. He watched, his heart in his throat. He didn’t even move until his sister shoved him aside.
“Get out of the way, you lummox. And yes, brother, I do look stunning. Thank you for saying so. But I need to get my wrap, so get out of my way.”
He did because she gave him no choice. And then he waved Olivia back when she stepped up to carry Yihui. Though it had been over a month since her initial injury, Yihui’s feet could not easily bear weight without risking further injury. Not to dance and certainly not to stand for hours on end, awaiting the prince’s pleasure. Mr. Torres recommended at least two more weeks before she stressed them. Privately, Max determined to carry her for another month.
Or he would have, if she weren’t set to throw him over at the end of the week.
“I’ll carry her now,” he said to Olivia while emotions churned within him. “But I won’t be able to in the palace, so that will fall to you.”
“I am pleased to do so, my lord,” she answered formally, using more words than he had ever heard her utter before.
“And you look wonderful in that uniform. You will put the palace guard to shame.”
Olivia was a contradiction in body and form. She was very obviously an Irish woman and a lovely one at that. But instead of a gown, she wore the livery of a man in his household. She was the one who was there to carry Yihui wherever she was meant to go inside the palace. And as such, Olivia had the position of status among the four other footmen who would carry Yihui’s litter into Buckingham.
“You won’t mind using the palanquin again, will you?” he pressed Yihui as he carried her downstairs. “I had it remade. It’s quite sturdy now—”
“I saw. It’s lovely.”
“You’ll ride in the carriage with me. The palanquin is for when you enter.”
“I know.”
“You’re every bit a Chinese princess, Yihui.” He looked down at her face. “I hope you enjoy tonight. You are to be celebrated at every turn.”
She looked into his eyes. She was still in his arms held close enough that he could see the dark striations in her pupils and the sweet red of her lips.
“Max…” she whispered. He waited, but she said no more. Just his name and a longing he felt echo in his own soul.
He wanted to give her a compliment then. He wanted to tell her what she meant to him, what this night presenting her to thehaut tonmeant in his world. She was at the pinnacle tonight, and he was stunned by how gloriously she shined. Stunned and proud.
But the words didn’t come. And then his mother interrupted them with an exasperated groan.
“Whatever are you thinking, Max? Put her down. Your clothes will be a disaster. Why isn’t that Irish woman carrying her? Isn’t that—”
“Her name is Olivia, Mother, and she is coming.”
With that, he nodded to their new butler who swept open the door with the pompous grace of a duke’s butler. That he was also young and grinning in no way detracted from Max’s delight.
“Thank you, Butler,” he said, still amused by the irony of the man’s surname. His butler was named Butler.
“Have a good evening, my lord, Miss Wong.”
“Our evening shall be splendid. Absolutely, amazingly, wonderfully superb.”
“My goodness,” Emmaline chuckled behind him. “Setting your sights a little high, aren’t you brother?”
“Never.”
Chapter Forty-Five
So many feelingscoursed through Yihui that she was dizzy from the experience.
They arrived at Buckingham Palace, a building so large, she thought surely it was as great as what stood in the Forbidden City. Throughout the carriage ride, the duchess continued to remind her of one thing or another. She heard none of it. All she felt was Max’s thigh pressed against hers and his ring heavy on her finger.
