“But it must work for them. Otherwise, why would they do it? For thousands of years and millions of people.”
Benedict shook his head. “You have always admired them.”
“How can you not be fascinated by people so different from our own? Their history, their medicine, their language is nothing like anything we have. Completely separate, completely different—”
“Completely exciting to you.”
“Yes.” No sense in denying it. Studying England would be like gazing at one’s own naval. Max wanted to see what else was in the world.
Benedict picked up the jar of mold and stared at it. “I should not have asked you to babysit Prinny. I should have encouraged you to join the East India Company. At a minimum, you could have joined Staunton’s diplomatic excursion. He hopes to speak with the emperor himself.”
Yes, Max knew. And how it had burned when the expedition had set sail without him. But at the time, Prinny had been determined to involve himself personally in the war against Napoleon, and it took every resource at hand to keep him from making disastrous, ill-informed, amateur decisions with their troops. At the time, Max had been the only one able to convince Prinny to trust his own military leaders.
So Max had remained in London even when his heart had pulled him to China. And thanks to his efforts, Prinny had not commanded the military into doomed battles or ridiculous gambits.
Benedict handed back the jar. “Lord Castlereagh is well aware of your sacrifice. We know Carlton House is not where your heart lies.”
Having the respect of England’s lead diplomat was a balm to his bitterness, but he couldn’t paint himself as so selfless a soul. “My parents would have fought tooth and nail to keep me in London, and I couldn’t abandon Emmaline to their rancor.” He sighed. “We both know the pressures of being the heir to an old title. Sometimes I think we are the most trapped souls in England, but then I recall that I have chosen to protect my people and my country. I serve where I am put to the best use. Even if it is at Carlton House where I am commanded to marry a Chinese princess.”
Benedict nodded. This was a familiar discussion between the two of them as they both tried to navigate the responsibilities of their titles. Meanwhile, they walked easily back toward Max’s home.
“Ben,” Max began, “I need to know more about this Wong delegation.”
His friend shook his head. “It was all very slap dash. We were notified the night of their arrival. I heard that they meant tosee the king and was only barely able to divert them to Carlton House.”
Max gaped at him. “You sent them there?”
“Of course, I did. Can’t have them going to see the mad king, and I knew you were at Carlton House. What better place to send a Chinese delegation?”
Did the man understand nothing? “You should have said no! They aren’t a true delegation. They’re from a merchant family, not the Chinese emperor—”
“And you were perfectly placed to figure that out.”
“And perfectly placed to get saddled with a new wife!”
He could see Benedict try—and fail—to restrain his grin. The damned man found the situation amusing. “Truly, I am sorry about that. We had no idea about the girl.”
“But you knew they weren’t a real delegation.”
“The country wants Chinese goods. Sometimes that means entertaining a bunch of merchants with a bribe.” He slanted a look at Max. “Doesn’t mean you have to do what they ask. Diplomacy is often about placating people while you do what you want.” He paused as he turned to stare hard at Max. “You should already know that.”
He did. But the whole thing had completely upended his life, and he didn’t know what to do about it. “It’s gotten too big to ignore.”
“Has it?” Benedict challenged, and well he should. After all, everyone had been telling him the solution from the beginning. Get rid of the body and set Yihui in a home somewhere. He didn’t have to give her to the likes of Madame Sabate. There were plenty of respectable places that would care for her for the right amount of money.
And yet he was planning on nursing her in his own home and was right now carrying mold for her medicine. His own actions did not make sense, but he could not abandon her.
“She’s an innocent in all this.”
“You know she’s not a Chinese princess, right?
Max nodded. “She told me. She’s the daughter of an apothecary, I think. She knows medicines.” He looked dubiously at the jar he carried.
Typically, Benedict didn’t argue. He asked for details. “Start at the beginning.”
So Max did while Benedict listened without comment. And when Max was done, he realized how much his frustration had spilled into his words.
“I see now that Kimberly was right. This disaster was entirely predictable. I need a real posting. Surely, I can do something for the war effort.”
