“Oh goodness,” Chris said with a matching wave. “What do I know except what everyone does? She speaks English, was expected to die, but has miraculously survived after sending Max all over London in search of ingredients for a mysterious brew.”
Ernie’s eyes narrowed. “You must tell me these ingredients.”
“No, I must not. Max is my dearest friend. I cannot speak out of turn about his private affairs.”
“Of course you can’t,” Ernie agreed even as he sidled closer to Chris. “But you might be induced to share a secret, couldn’t you? With a very discreet friend. One who was in a position to do you a favor?”
Caught. The man was caught as surely as a wriggling fish on a hook.
“What favor?”
“Don’t be coy. Your brother has been writing me for months now, desperate to curry my favor.”
Chris pretended to shock. “Yours? Whatever for?”
“You know he wants to study at Oxford, but we both know that he hasn’t the pocket to live there.”
“Study should be about merit, not money.”
“And girls should be virgins before they marry. They are not.”
“My brother is brilliant and would be a boon to Oxford.”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt, but he needs my vote to gain admission. And he needs coin to do so without starving.”
What a pig! The only reason Jonathan hadn’t been admitted yet was because he hadn’t the coin to bribe his way into school. And Ernie was the hold out. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll find a way. He’s clever that way.” Actually, his brother was too puritanical or too ignorant to be clever. Which was why Chris had to help.
“Not without my vote, he won’t.”
Come on, come on. Out with it.
Chris didn’t have to wait long. Eventually Ernie gestured for a footman to refill Chris’s wineglass, then he waited while Chris took an obliging sip.
“Tell me what this Chinese medicine is,” he said, “and I will vote for your brother’s admission into Oxford.”
Chris appeared to think about it. Indeed, he did consider it closely and from every conceivable angle. In the end, he decided he could milk this bastard a little longer.
“I do not sell my friends’ secrets,” he said stiffly. “Not even for my brother.” It was a lie. He would do it for his brother, if it were the only way. And so far, this was the only way. “Oh look,” he drawled. “The doctor is here. Let us listen to see if the lady’s recovery is as miraculous as Max has said.”
It was. Of course, it was. Chris had been there when Dr. Morton had predicted the girl’s grizzly demise. He had relished his dire predictions and would likely repeat as much to his royal audience. Especially since he had not been apprised of the lady’s survival.
At least Chris hoped he hadn’t.
And so everyone listened with rapt attention as Prinny quizzed the man on Miss Wong’s health. The responses were eloquent, graphic, and absolutely clear.
“She will not survive, Your Highness. And I believe that is a kindness.”
“You are sure?” Ernie pressed.
“Completely. I stake my reputation on that.”
Chris grinned. “And what if she had some mysterious Chinese brew? Something that allowed her fever to break. Indeed, what if that medicine not only broke her fever but allowed her feet to heal such that she might one day walk again?”
“Preposterous. The Chinese are godless barbarians. They do not have such a thing.”
Chris nearly laughed, amused by the arrogance of a man who could condemn an entire people without knowing the least thing about them. Fortunately, it served his purpose as Ernie once again sidled over.
“The girl is completely recovered?”
