“I’m sure you could,” his friend responded. “But there are several men who could do as well, whereas you are the only one in a position to moderate the prince—”
“Prinny does as he wills,” he interrupted. “I cannot control his whims.”
“But you do moderate them. Just last month you stopped him from ordering the navy to South America to acquire pineapples.”
“The navy would have refused.”
“It would have required a great deal of time and effort on several people’s part. Time that was better spent fighting Napoleon. You distracted him with a clever bit of Chinoiserie.” He grinned. “How very prescient of you.”
“It wasn’t prescient. It was the only thing at hand.”
“And you knew to do it.”
“And now I’m engaged to a Chinese gel with shattered feet!”
“Yes.” Benedict paused then gestured vaguely. “By the way, that’s why I know she’s not a noblewoman. Upper-class Chinese bind their daughter’s feet. It’s a practice that begins very young.It proves the girl has never labored and is thought to be the height of erotic beauty.”
Max knew that already and still shuddered at the idea. “I can’t imagine doing that to anyone, much less a little girl.”
“The Romans did much worse, and we revere them.” Benedict was well known for this one statement. He was famously nonjudgmental about all kinds of choices and predilections. He was never known to indulge himself, but he was the one Lord Castlereagh called upon to entertain sordid appetites. It was a dirty, despicable task, but necessity often required flexibility.
Max shook his head in disgust. “She said they broke her feet to prevent her escape.”
“Undoubtably part of it.” Benedict’s voice was grim. “And that explains why she killed him. Someone who is capable of smashing a woman’s feet likely had other vices as well. I expect she did the world a favor.”
Max shuddered. He couldn’t help it. The sight and the smell of what she’d done haunted him. “I don’t blame her, but it doesn’t answer what I’m to do with her.”
“See what Prinny thinks.”
Max let out a snort of disgust. “And that is exactly the problem! I cannot allow Prinny to run my life.”
Benedict’s brows rose. “You are speaking of the Royal Prince and Regent. You are his loyal subject—”
“Don’t quote patriotism to me. I am as loyal an Englishman as any. More so! But we are speaking about my wife. The mother of my children, one of whom will become a duke. You cannot think that such a decision…” His voice trailed off, seeing his defeat in his own words. If they believed Prinny was fit to command the country, then naturally, he was fit to make decisions on international affairs. Even ones thatrequired a wedding. Especially those. “But this isn’t a matter of international importance!”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m not sure. That’s why I wanted to speak with you.”
Benedict chuckled. “But I am not the expert on Chinese affairs. That’s Sir Staunton’s bailiwick.”
“I know,” Max said miserably. “But he’s in Canton on his expedition and it will take months for any type of communication with him.”
“A year most like. Six months, at least, until he receives your letter. And that long for a response.”
“And what am I to do in the meantime?”
“Exactly what you are doing, I suppose.”
“Making mold tea—”
“And seeing if she survives.”
Max made a sound of fury, one that had been building for longer than this one day. He’d passed his thirtieth birthday months ago. Much though he hated to admit it, his father was right. It was long past time for him to begin a useful adulthood. One that didn’t involve drunken revelries with Prinny or murders in his guest bedroom. Unfortunately, he had no interest in following his father’s ultraconservative political footsteps. He would inevitably enter the House of Lords, of course, but at the moment, he would rather drink himself to extinction than blindly follow his father’s dictates.
Lord Benedict—a future earl—understood his frustration, probably better than anyone. The man was older and had fought his father for his unpalatable position in the Foreign Office. Which is why Max chose to listen when Benedict set a long-fingered hand on his arm.
“Diplomacy requires patience. If you wish to pursue such a thing without a foreign appointment—”
