“And now he’ll have to marry her! Do you know what my father’s going to say? After my mother takes to her bed for a week weeping and wailing?”
“It’s not Max’s fault—”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? Father’s going to bemoan the disaster of the dukedom. We can trace our heritage back to William the Conqueror, but we’ll never live down the shame of marrying a Chinese.”
“The king is married to a mulatto—”
“And the queen has never lived it down. Everything she does is about her race. She can’t just be a queen. Everything she does, everything she says relates to her race, as if she alone represents every mixed-race soul in England.”
“She does. She’s the queen—”
“And now everything Max does will be about his Chinese wife. If he makes a mistake, it will be her fault. If he succeeds, he will have overcome being saddled with her.”
“You’re overreacting.”
She might be. There were worse things that could happen to Max. And definitely worse things could happen to Yihui. But Emma knew the strain of fitting into a ducal household. Not everyone was cut out to weather the demands of society. And honestly, she had wanted her brother to have a better time of it than her parents.
“It’s hard, Chris, really hard being married to someone who won’t help you, who doesn’t understand you. My parents are a daily disaster. Yours—”
He held up his hand. “Do not bring my parents into this. They were ten thousand times worse than yours. It was a blessing when my father died, and I am daily trying to recover from the mess he left.”
She knew it. Hadn’t Kimberly mentioned that he didn’t have the money to send his brother to Oxford? But how did any of that lead to this afternoon’s disaster? “Fine,” she snapped. “Answer the question, then. What did you get for bringing Prinny here? For forcing my brother into a marriage without love?”
He sighed. “What does it matter? You will damn me either way.”
True. Especially since he’d just confirmed that he had bartered away her brother’s happiness. He could have gotten money, a horse, or a whole damned estate for it, and she would still hate him.
She slumped back against the bedroom door, her heart breaking. “I thought you loved us.”
“Us?” he challenged. “Or you?”
Of course, she meant her. She’d been in love with him since he helped her onto her first pony. “I wanted better for my brother.”
“What?” he mocked. “Love? Max has never looked for that. He knows better.” He stepped close enough to tower over her. “You, on the other hand, have always coddled such ridiculous fantasies about it.”
“Ridiculous? To have parents who don’t hate the sight of one another?”
He put his hands on the doorway, one on either side of her head. “Don’t make this about them. They hated each other before they ever married. This is about you and your ridiculous fantasies.”
Damn him for towering over her like this and hating her as he did it. And damn herself for smelling his scent and feeling lightheaded at the spiced heat of him. She slammed her hands against his chest, but she didn’t have the leverage. He didn’t move an inch, so she fought him with words.
“Love is possible!” she cried. “Unless you bargain his choices away!”
He dropped his head down until they were nose to nose. Her heart began to thunder in her ears, and she struggled to catch her breath. He was so close. How many nights had she dreamed of him like this? Whisper close but saying very different things.
“You don’t know anything about love, Emma,” he said, his voice low enough that it seemed to shiver down her spine. “My parents were in love, you know, and look how that turned out.”
“Not everyone is like that!” she said as she shoved again. It didn’t work. And truthfully, she wasn’t sure she wanted it too.He pressed his nose along her cheek, sliding his mouth so close to hers.
“Love doesn’t exist, Emma. It’s only passion.”
“No,” she said. She knew there was a difference. And yet, at this moment, she couldn’t think of it. All she could do was feel him there caging her in the circle of his arms as his breath heated her skin.
“You have wanted me for years, Emma. Do you think I didn’t know?”
She whimpered. Of course, he’d known, but he’d never thrown it back at her like this. He’d never sneered the words even as his lips nibbled at the curve of her jaw. She closed her eyes, she willed her body not to react, but it was a losing game. She wanted this. Never had she felt anything so exquisite.
“You know my situation, Emma. You know I have nothing I can give you. My family—we are impoverished.”
