Wei gave his friend a pointed look. “You are saying you are comfortable with Her Grace traipsing into the Fancy’s territory?”
“Hell, no. Livy is my wife, and I will see that she is protected by any means necessary.” Hadleigh lifted his brows. “Who are you protecting, old chap?”
Heat crept up Wei’s jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” Hadleigh rotated his cup a half-turn. “Lady Glory is an unusual chit. Quite refreshing, in her own way, don’t you think?”
“I have not pondered the matter.” Not intentionally.
“It would not be wrong if you had.” Hadleigh cleared his throat. “Next to my wife, you are the one who knows me best, Chen. You know the darkness of my past and, indeed, helped me to slay some of those demons. I am in your debt. And yet it occurs to me that I know very little about you.”
Because I cannot compromise my goal. Vengeance requires secrecy. I cannot entrust my family’s honor to any Englishman…even you, my friend.
“There is no debt,” Wei said. “You have more than repaid my services with your generous donations to the clinic.”
“My skills may be rusty, but I still recognize an evasive maneuver.” Although Hadleigh smiled, his eyes were serious. “I know you are a private fellow, and my intention is not to pry. Only to reciprocate what you have given me in the past: a willingness to listen and understand.”
“Your offer is appreciated.”
“But you are not going to take it.” The duke relented with a nod. “The offer stands, nonetheless. I know you value self-discipline, old boy, but no man is an island.”
Wei flashed back to the early years after his family had been slaughtered. He hadn’t been disciplined then; he’d been hotheaded and reckless, his actions fueled by rage and grief. Then, when he’d failed to avenge his family, he’d numbed himself with violence, drink, and women. In truth, his journey had not been so different from Hadleigh’s. At his lowest point, beaten to a pulp and robbed by dockside ruffians, he’d been rescued by a former monk named Lam.
Master Lam had become Wei’s shifu, reshaping his character and imparting the skills he needed to restore his family’s honor. Patience, restraint, humility—these had become Wei’s guiding principles. One of Shifu Lam’s teachings surfaced in Wei’s head, and he voiced it now.
“Ordinary men hate solitude,” he said quietly. “But the master embraces his aloneness.”
If solitude was the price Wei had to pay to hunt down the man who’d murdered his kin, then he would be an island. He would cut himself off from temptation. From anything—or anyone—that threatened to distract him from his purpose. Perhaps then he could finally let go of the pain festering inside him. Perhaps then he could be at peace.
“I suppose one cannot argue with Confucius,” Hadleigh said with a sigh.
Before Wei could correct the duke on the source, he heard Yao’s heavy steps, followed by lighter ones…and the rustling of expensive skirts? He rose, his pulse giving an odd stutter as Yao led Lady Glory into his study. She was accompanied by an older female who wore a lace cap over her silver curls, her narrow figure encased in a no-nonsense gown. The chaperone’s bespectacled gaze simmered with intelligence.
“The ladies wished to see you, Master Chen,” Yao announced.
Wei’s shidai was doing a piss-poor job of hiding his curiosity about the women, especially Glory. The big bastard couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Hadleigh bowed. “Mrs. Newton, Lady Glory. What a pleasant surprise.”
Wei narrowed his eyes. Despite the duke’s words, he did not seem surprised in the slightest.
“Good afternoon, sirs,” Lady Glory said cheerfully.
Today she looked like what she was: the daughter of a wealthy duke. Her rosewood hair was styled in a topknot, with curls framing her heart-shaped face. Her striped bamboo-green gown showcased her lissome figure and brought out the verdant sparkle in her eyes. Her freckles had reemerged, specks of gold leaf upon her dainty nose. The only exception to her fashion plate perfection was the ferret perched on her shoulder.
Wei’s confidence returned. While she was fresh and appealing, he knew that he could resist temptations of the flesh. He had done so for years.
“However, Your Grace, I think you are mistaken,” she went on.
Hadleigh cocked his head. “About what?”
“The source of the adage is not Confucius.”
Lady Glory turned to Wei, and her smile affected his cool self-discipline like a blast of sunshine. Her playful dimple turned his blood molten, sending a hot rush straight to his groin.
“That saying is attributed to Lao Tzu, I believe,” she said.
Six
