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 themold 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 fearand 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.
