What she wouldn’t give to learn some of his techniques.
She was also intrigued by another commonality they shared. From her papa’s side, she was a quarter Chinese, but Papa’s mother had died when he was young, and he knew little about that part of his legacy. Glory had pestered him into finding her a tutor; she’d learned to speak rudimentary Chinese, but there was so much more she wanted to learn about the culture.
Nothing excited Glory more than discovering new things.
She tried to sound casual. “Did Master Chen agree to accompany me?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘This is a bad idea’.”
Drat.
Livy smiled, reaching for her teacup. “Hadleigh, however, talked him into it.”
Hooray!
“Where shall I meet him?” Glory asked eagerly. “What is our cover story?”
“Don’t worry, dearest.” Livy sipped her tea, her eyes twinkling over the rim of her cup. “I have a plan.”
Two
“Shall we go in now? Or should we wait?” Lady Glory Cavendish peeped through the drawn curtains of the carriage window. “What do you think, Mr. Chen?”
“I think that this is a bad idea,” Wei said.
Actually, he knew it was. Yet he’d agreed to this escapade anyway, which puzzled him. He was not a man who acted against his better judgment. Once upon a time, he’d allowed selfish desire to be his compass, and his family had paid the price. He felt the familiar sear in his chest, the agony of a scar too deep to be healed. His mistake was a part of him, woven into the essence of who he was, the unrelenting force behind his every action.
In the next breath, he let go of the feeling. Unhooked himself from it like a rowboat from a rotting dock. As Master Lam had taught him, he let himself float on the waves of anger and despair, riding the tide until it once again calmed. It had taken him years to develop this ability; now detachment was a reflex. He was able to channel his inner turmoil so that it flowed through him without disturbing his outer calmness.
He taught this practice to the students who flocked to his East End clinic looking for a cure to their opium habit. Many were quick to declare his methods “un-English,” and they were not wrong. He had no snake oil or miracles to sell. The secret was that there was no secret: everyone had to work at their own healing. Benedict Wodehouse, the Duke of Hadleigh, had been one of Wei’s successful pupils and was now a friend. Thus, when the duke had asked him, as a personal favor, to accompany his wife’s friend to a disreputable club, Wei had agreed.
Wei reasoned that friendship and loyalty were acceptable explanations for his presence tonight. Yet he couldn’t deny that there was another reason too. That reason being the lady disguised as a foppish, curly-haired gent sitting across from him. At present, Lady Glory had her small nose pressed against the carriage window like a child peering into a toy shop. And it was precisely her innocence that drew Wei to keep an eye out for this wayward duke’s daughter.
He had become acquainted with Lady Gloriana Cavendish over the course of three years. He’d only been in her company a handful of times: when he’d assisted with the Angels’ cases and during social occasions hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Hadleigh. The time spent in her company had solidified his perception that she was a rare and untamed spirit.
As outrageous as Lady Glory’s covert activities were, they were driven by her crusader’s heart. She had a genuine desire to do good and help others. These qualities, coupled with unquenchable idealism, were admirable…and more than a little worrisome.
Wei flashed back to memories of his sister, Ling Ling. She, too, had been a fearless campaigner for good, even at ten years old. No matter where their baba’s orders took the family, Ling Ling had been sure to stand up for those who needed help. In the last village where they’d lived, she had organized the other girls to travel in groups and look out for one another to avoid being harassed by some of the older boys.
“When everyone adds fuel, the flames rise high,” she’d declared.
Her apple-cheeked face had glowed with pride as she’d informed Wei of her plan’s success. He’d gravely offered her his congratulations while keeping his bruised knuckles hidden. Although he knew the true reason for the bullies’ retreat, he’d wanted to protect his sister’s optimism.
Ling Ling had also been a lifelong lover of animals, which resulted in rescued chickens, pigs, and assorted creatures running amok in the Chen household. One day, she’d proclaimed that she would no longer eat meat. When she tried to convert the entire family to vegetarianism, Baba had put his foot down.
“I am a soldier, daughter, not a monk or rabbit,” he had said with exasperation. “I cannot survive on grass and hay.”
Yet even the taciturn captain had been fighting a smile. That had been Ling Ling’s effect on people. Her goodness had lit up everything around her…until it had been snuffed out. The image of his baby sister lying in a pool of blood, her eyes unblinking and pigtails shorn and missing, caused Wei’s insides to churn with rage.
When I let go of who I am, I become what I might be.
He took in a breath and released it. Emotions were mere leaves floating on the surface of his larger purpose. He would not allow them—or anything—to distract him from his goal.
Vengeance required a cool head and calm heart.
“You are not going to be a wet blanket, are you?” Turning away from the window, Lady Glory shot him a disgruntled glance. “The last thing I need is a killjoy for a partner.”
“I have no intention of being a killer of joy. Merely the guardian of good sense.”
