“The night before, you will cry off. You will say that you cannot marry someone so different from you. Say we do not suit.”
Panic had her heart beating very fast. “But then what will I do?”
He caught her hand, trapping it easily between his two much larger palms. “I shall give you an annuity. That’s a yearly amount of money to live on. I can give you a home in the country if you like. Or if you want to stay in London, then it will be enough to live well if you are careful.”
“An annuity,” she repeated, testing out the word.
“Yes. Say five hundred pounds a year. Something like that.”
She had no idea how much money it took to survive alone, but she had bargained all her life. She knew better than to accept the first offer from anyone. “Five hundred is much too little,” she said firmly.
He cocked his head. “Is it? And how do you know that?”
“I know many things,” she countered. “Double that would not even be enough.”
“Five hundred pounds is very generous.”
“Do you live on so little? No, you do not. I think your boots are worth five hundred pounds. I am an apothecary. I am worth very much more than a pair of boots.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I guess you are. But an annuity is paid every year until you die.”
“You get new boots every year.”
“I do not!”
“You get new clothes then. Boots one year, shirts and…” She pointed to the silk cloth about his neck.
“Cravat.”
“Cravat. New, every year. Am I not worth more than a cravat?”
He was silent as if considering. When he spoke, he showed that he was not as easy a mark as she hoped. But then what Dragon King would be?
“If I gave you a thousand pounds per annum, what would you do with such a fortune?”
“I would buy good boots for winter. And a warm coat.”
“I shall purchase those things for you.”
“I must have a home, yes?” Her hand tightened in the heavy coverlet. She had thought she would live here with him in the riches that surrounded her.
“I will see that you have a good home. A safe one with enough coal in the winter.”
She shook her head. “A Dragon King does not do such a thing. Not for a discarded woman.”
“A Dragon King?” he said. “Is that what you think of me?”
Had she called him that aloud? She should not have revealed so much, but he spoke so gently with her, even as he dashed her dreams. She found it easy to speak honestly with him. “I think that discarded women starve.”
He touched her face. A gentle stroke of his large hand across her brow first, to pull her hair away. Then his palm cupped her chin and his thumb caressed along her jaw. And he steadily pressed her face upward until she looked him in the eye.
“You are not a discarded woman, Yihui. Indeed, I think I shall be paying an exorbitant amount for your livelihood.”
“How much?” she asked as tears filled her eyes. The Dragon King did not want her.
“Fifteen hundred, and not a penny more.”
“Seventeen.”
