“Pardon,” he muttered. “I was not expecting company.”
Wei reached for a towel, slinging it around his neck. As he hadn’t brought a shirt with him, it was as decent as he could make himself. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he cared. He didn’t feel civilized or calm or any of the things he’d trained himself to feel.
“We saw Yao, and he said to come in.” Hadleigh’s voice held a note of apology.
Yao would say that. Since the disaster this morning, Wei’s shidai had been overly solicitous, hovering and asking if Wei needed anything. He probably thought Wei could use the company.
Wei gripped the ends of the towel. “Was there something you wanted?”
He was curt, bordering on rude. But he wanted to be left alone. Wanted to rage at the universe and lick his wounds in private.
“Actually, there was something,” Her Grace said.
Hadleigh gave his wife an oddly warning look, which she ignored.
“Glory wished to speak with you,” she said, nudging her friend forward.
Seeing Glory’s face turn rosy, Wei frowned. “What about?”
The duchess answered. “As it is a private matter, Hadleigh and I will make ourselves scarce. We’ll be in the other courtyard if you need us.”
Like a determined tugboat, she linked her arm through that of her much larger husband and pulled him toward the exit. Hadleigh went with her, shooting one last concerned glance at Wei over his broad shoulder.
Alone with Glory, his emotions surging, Wei had a bitter moment of clarity.
He wanted her.
A lady who was too well-born and innocent for the likes of him. A lady whom he’d taken on as his student because he was afraid of what he might do otherwise. A lady who trusted him when she ought to have left him to his misery.
His throat clenched with anger at the world—but mostly at himself.
I haven’t changed at all, always doing the wrong thing. Making the wrong choices.
As furious as he was, he knew he was in no state to be around Glory. He had to get rid of her.
“What do you want?” he asked brusquely.
Glory’s mouth was completely dry. In all the time she’d known Master Chen, she’d never seen him in such a state. So raw and exposed…and she wasn’t just referring to his lack of a shirt. Although, heavens, she didn’t know men had that many muscles on their torsos. She blinked, momentarily mesmerized by the sweat-sheened blocks of his chest and the defined bands on his abdomen. Even his hips were lean and cut, girded by an intriguing slant of sinew. As he clenched the ends of the towel looped around his neck, his biceps and forearms bulged, popping with veins.
“Well?” he asked shortly. “What was so important that you came all this way?”
Another lady might have been offended by his harsh tone. Yet Glory knew intuitively that she was not the cause of his mood. She sensed that something had happened. Something bad. He seemed, for lack of a better word, shaken.
His mask of calmness was askew, raw emotion seeping through. His pupils were dilated, his eyes brewing with emotions he was barely keeping in check. Even his hair had given into an unruly wave.
He is hurting. The realization constricted her heart. And he needs a friend.
“Has something happened?” she asked.
“I should be the one asking you that question. After all, you show up without notice—”
“We’ll get to that later.” She wanted to help and wasn’t going to get distracted. “Right now, I want to know what has left you so shaken.”
“Shaken?” He made a scoffing sound. “I do not get shaken.”
“Well, you’re not precisely calm, are you?” she pointed out. “You are not yourself, and I wish to know why.”
“It’s nothing.”
