Although Glory had heard about Mr. Chen’s clinic from Livy, this was her first visit. She was bubbling over with curiosity about the operation and the man behind it. As Mr. Chen and Hadleigh guided her and Aunt Hypatia on a tour, she took in the tiled roof, rock gardens, and latticed wood walkways with a thrill of excitement. Since she was a girl, she’d been fascinated by her Chinese ancestry, reading as many books as she could find on the subject. She had the strange sensation that she was simultaneously visiting a foreign place and coming home.
She adored the spare elegance of the setting, which suited its owner. Today the master was dressed in his native style, wearing a long blue-grey tunic over matching trousers. The drape of the linen emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow hips. He moved with the grace of a predatory beast, the fabric flowing along with him as if it didn’t dare get in the way. Recalling his callused touch against her skin, how close she’d been to him in the wardrobe, she felt an odd flutter in her belly. An awareness that hadn’t been there before last night and that made her feel like a gawky schoolmiss.
Stop acting like a ninny, or Master Chen will never grant your request.
Glory’s instincts told her that the master would not welcome silliness. He was the epitome of dignity and reserve. She wondered what sort of female might appeal to a man like him…if, indeed, he had any interest in romantic pursuits. Livy had mentioned rumors that the master had trained as a monk.
Despite Mr. Chen’s asceticism, Glory suspected that he was a man of strong passions. His commitment to helping others and mastery of martial arts conveyed the power of his convictions. His intense gaze also had a worldly quality…as if he’d seen too much of life to be surprised by it. And despite his stoicism, she suspected that he enjoyed teasing her.
No, she could not imagine Wei Chen as a monk. Yet it was equally difficult to imagine the type of female he might be interested in. Since like drew like, he might choose someone whose temperament and habits matched his own. A lady who never took a misstep, never had a hair out of place. A paragon of refinement and propriety.
As the thought was oddly depressing, Glory pushed it aside. Her purpose today was professional, not personal. The flit from Fanny Bottom’s had made her more determined than ever to learn from the master. She had never seen anyone with his physical prowess. If he would teach her even an iota of his martial arts, she would be unstoppable as an investigator.
Hence, she had arranged the visit today. It hadn’t been difficult to get Aunt Hypatia on board. Glory had mentioned that the Hadleighs knew a respected teacher in the art of self-defense, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if he might agree to teach her a few skills? She’d added that Mr. Chen was also a famed healer who specialized in Chinese remedies. Aunt Patty, whose love of knowledge was equal to Glory’s, had taken the bait and agreed to chaperone her.
It was a stroke of luck that Livy’s husband happened to be here. The duke’s patronage lent credibility to the establishment, although even that was unnecessary: Aunt Patty appeared as intrigued by the clinic as Glory was. At present, they were in a chamber that resembled an apothecary shop, the air scented with herbs and other earthy smells Glory couldn’t quite place. A large cabinet with dozens of small drawers took up an entire wall while a neatly organized worktable stood at the center of the room.
“What a remarkable operation you run, sir.” Aunt Patty glanced around the room, her bespectacled gaze glimmering with interest. “How did you become a healer?”
“I was taught by my shifu, Master Lam,” Mr. Chen replied. “For decades, he belonged to an order of monks whose practices included healing, contemplation, and martial arts.”
“Were you, um, a monk as well?” Glory blurted.
He raised his brows, and her cheeks flamed at her own impertinence.
“Not in a technical sense,” he said after a pause. “Master Lam had left his order long before he took on pupils. While he advocated austerity as a life principle, he ran a school, not a monastery.”
Glory was relieved that he didn’t seem offended by her curiosity. And by his answer…not that his non-monastic status had anything to do with her. She also thanked her lucky stars that he was keeping mum about her extracurriculars. While Aunt Patty supported female independence, she had limits and would never approve of Glory’s covert life as an investigator. Fortunately, Master Chen was proving the soul of discretion.
Glory’s heart did a giddy somersault. Could any gentleman be more perfect?
Their eyes met; at the unfathomable flash in his intense brown gaze, she was suddenly afraid that he could read her thoughts. Nervously, she looked away, and while Mr. Chen responded to her aunt’s next query, she wandered to the worktable where three lidded ceramic jars stood in a neat line.
She traded looks with FF II, who was curled around her shoulders.
“I wonder what is inside these?” she murmured.
She interpreted his reply of tuk-tuk to mean, “Let’s find out.”
Bending over, she reached for one of the lids.
“Don’t touch that…”
Mr. Chen issued the warning just as the lid came loose in her hand. Air exploded from the jar with a loud poof. She and FF II both squeaked as a dark, sticky substance flew out and splattered them.
“…it is in the middle of fermenting,” Mr. Chen finished saying.
He strode over as Glory stood frozen in shock. Holding her chin between his finger and thumb, he took out his handkerchief and began to wipe the sticky mess off her face.
She blinked at him. “What…what is this stuff?”
His features remained impassive. “A ginseng compound I am experimenting with. There is no cause for concern.” He turned her head this way and that, examining his handiwork. “It is good for the skin.”
When he proceeded to clean off FF II, the latter chirping happily at his gentle strokes, gratitude filled her.
“Is it good for fur as well?” she quipped.
Mr. Chen’s mouth gave a betraying twitch. “Ferdinand’s coat will have extra shine, no doubt.”
