Prinny looked about the room. “Do I know this doctor?”
No one answered because no one had any idea.
“Have him brought here. I want to talk to him about this Chinese medicine.”
“I doubt he knows much. The surgeon Mr. Torres might know more.” He didn’t say the obvious. Out of everyone, Max would know the most. But he was trying to give his friend as much time as he could.
“Bring them both here. I want to question them.”
Two footmen were immediately dispatched on the errand.
“Very clever of you,” Chris intoned. “Asking them to come here before they know she’s still alive. This way you can quiz them and get their true opinion of her health.”
“My very thought!” Prinny exclaimed. “And you were very clever to work that out.”
Christopher smiled in a vague way while his peripheral vision kept track of Lord Henderson. The man was frowning into his drink, his thoughts obviously churning. A moment later, he smiled in a way that was meant to be friendly if one ignored the meaning underneath.
“I’ll bet you know more about this Chinese medicine than you’re letting on.”
“Hmmm?” Christopher answered. “It was Max who had to find it.”
“But you’ve been to the house every day, haven’t you? You’ve kept us all apprised as to the lady’s health.”
It was the only way to keep Prinny from showing up on Max’s doorstep and upsetting the entire household. “I have done my best to be of assistance to my friend. That hardly means—”
“You know something.” The words were as much accusation as interest. Which meant Chris had caught the man. Now all it required was to reel in the fat bastard.
“Of course, I know things.” He leaned forward under the guise of extending his glass for more wine. And as the footman poured his drink, he whispered to Ernie. “Perhaps, I would be willing to trade you.”
The man flopped backwards, clearly pretending to disinterest. “It’s not worth that much to me.”
A lie. Chris had seen how he gripped his leg, how he winced when he walked. Gout, most likely. What if the Chinese woman had a remedy that had eluded the English?
“Probably not,” Chris agreed. “After all, heathen medicine is rarely what one hopes. But they do, on occasion, discover something unusual. Something from a plant or animal that is not known to us in England.”
“What could they possibly know that our scientists do not? Haphazard mumbo jumbo from witch doctors.”
“True. But even a heathen can get lucky. And a girl can learn a recipe from her father. Especially if he is a respected medical man in his own country.”
The man frowned. “I thought he was a merchant. Wong Hippo or something.”
“Ah, I see you are behind on the gossip. I’m told the lady is not actually the Wong daughter, but a woman kidnapped to be used as a bribe. You don’t think a man would give up his own daughter, do you? Even heathens have feelings.”
“If she’s not the Wong daughter, then who is she?”
“No one, I’m sure,” Chris said with a sly grin. “No one at all.”
The man grunted with clear disgust. “Probably some poor street urchin.”
“Who speaks English? I’m sure all street beggars in China are so well taught.” The sarcasm was thick in his tone.
Ernie straightened even further in his seat, his bushy brows drawing tighter as he thought through the possibilities. Even Chris wasn’t sure about the truth of Miss Wong’s parentage, but the mystery served him better than the truth, whatever it might be. He expected to dine at many tables this Season as speculation turned to outright fantasy.
“Why would anyone risk abducting a woman of consequence?”
“I’m sure it wasn’t the intention. And once in the hands of her captor, what’s the poor gel to do? She was told she’d marry the King of England, after all.”
“You think she’s educated then. Not like our women, of course, but in…” He waved his hand in the air. “In heathen things.”
