The boy perked up, smiling. “Yes. What is it?”
“I want you to get us a second meeting with the taotai. Not immediately; I think we will need a few months to prepare. April or May will do.”
Benedict stared at her. “But I’ve never done anything like—that is to say, Grayson made the first meeting—is that what he asked you to do just now?”
Amelia just beamed at him. “Didn’t you hear him? It’s all according to his plan.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Three days after Benedict began to inquire about making an appointment with the taotai, he received a message via courier. It was not from the taotai.
He read it, crumpled it, threw it against the wall, then retrieved it and read it once more.
Benedict had his own little cubby on the ground floor of the Lord Traders’ office, which meant that nobody had seen this childish display. It also meant that nobody would ask him what the message said.
The worst had happened. His competence had intersected with his incompetence.
He stared at the words, sighed, and went to craft a response.
The appointment Benedict received in response to his missive was seven days later. “First available opportunity,” he’d expressly said, yet it had been almost March when Benedict made his way to Consul Secretary Larkin’s office.
He was made to wait half an hour once he arrived, even though he’d been ten minutes early. Finally he was escorted back to meet the man.
Benedict didn’t think he had much of a temper. He liked pleasing people. He enjoyed listening to others. He was always willing to help. And it was hardly any secret to himself as to why. He’d grown up with two sisters who scraped along like flint and steel. Benedict had done his best to keep Judith and Theresa from sparking too often.
Now he felt the start of sparks of his own.
By the time he was escorted to the secretary’s office, those sparks had begun to smolder. It didn’t help that Secretary Larkin looked at him once—dismissively—then rolled his eyes, looking away.
“Why are you still in Shanghai?” The man sounded bored. “You do recognize the risks, do you not? If treason is committed in Shanghai, you’ll be the one blamed for it.”
Was the man expecting treason? Honestly. Benedict kept a firm hold on his temper. “I’m simply arranging a meeting with the taotai. Is that treason?”
“It rather depends on what the meeting is for, doesn’t it? I prefer not to risk it. You may not meet with the taotai.”
Benedict sighed. “It’s not my meeting. It’s on behalf of the Lord Traders Telegraphic Company. It’s my job to arrange meetings.”
Consul Secretary Larkin made a precise notation on the paper in front of him. “Find a new occupation. Or go home.”
Benedict exhaled slowly. He needed to be patient. He could be patient. He was good at being patient. He…
“No,” he said surprising himself.
The man looked up. “No?”
“My father committed treason,” Benedict told him. “My brother committed treason. But I’m not like them.”
“You’re loyal to England then?”
“It’s not that.”
Benedict saw the man’s eyes widen at this admission, so he bulled on before he could be interrupted.
“They were cowards who couldn’t speak up for their principles. My father was an earl. He had all of Parliament at his fingertips. He could have forced them to listen by taking advantage of the privileges he had by dint of birth. And with all of that, he decided the proper way forward was underhanded ridiculousness. If you believe in a principle, you should be willing to own it in broad daylight.”
“I see. You’re not like them,” Larkin said mockingly. “You’re honest and forthright.”
The truth took Benedict by surprise.
He was like that. He was absolutely an underhanded coward. He hadn’t told Judith what he truly wanted because he’d wished to avoid the ruckus. He’d used excuse after excuse to hide the truth from her to justify what he wanted to do.
He’d been fourteen when he’d started to lie to Judith—young enough that the thought of telling his much older sister that he didn’t want to do what she’d wanted had seemed impossible. In the intervening years, he’d done a lot of ridiculous things simply because he could not make himself stand and give a simple no.
He had to learn to be the person he wanted to be. And he had to do it now.
So Benedict Worth took in the mocking blue of Consul Secretary Larkin’s eyes, the lanky pitch color of his hair. He felt as if he were looking at every last person who’d ever mocked him during his horrific time at Eton.
It was time for Benedict to stand. He glared at Larkin. “I have had enough from you. I am Captain Hunter’s liaison in Shanghai. He has taught me more about bravery than all of England. It is my job as liaison to make an appointment with the taotai.”
“And it is my job as consular secretary to—”
“No it’s not,” Benedict said. “It’s your job to help British citizens interact with Chinese officials, not to make up stories about them so you can hinder their work. You are not the taotai’s secretary. You’re the consul’s. Furthermore, you’re not my mother. You’re not my sister nor my caretaker. You are the secretary to the consul, and you have absolutely no business insinuating yourself in this matter.”
Consul Secretary Larkin looked at Benedict, his eyes wide in surprise. Finally he shook his head. “I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. Put one foot wrong, and I will have you thrown out of my territory.”
“The feeling is abundantly mutual. I’m here as liaison. Now get out of my way and let me liaise.”
Larkin just sighed. “If you want the rope to hang yourself with, by all means.” He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “Have at it.”
“I’ve spent enough time aboard ship.” Benedict shrugged. “I’m good with rope. By your leave?”
Larkin just shook his head.
It was dark by the time Benedict sat down at his table and started another letter.
Dear Judith,
I have not been telling you the truth. I haven’t really been trying to find Theresa beyond a few half-hearted, ham-handed attempts. I do not want to go back to England. I am employed as a liaison for a telegraphic company in Shanghai, and I love doing this. I want to stay here.
You’ve made your home where you are, but when I think of England, I think of boys who bullied me because of my family name. I don’t want to come back. I never will.
Grayson had tried not to think of Amelia during the first nine months he knew her. In the months that followed after, he surrendered to the inevitable.
Commercial transport took him to San Francisco, and with no cable trailing behind him, he had no way to contact her. No short messages informing him of what she was doing. Nothing. He sent off a packet of short inquiries when he landed in San Francisco; he would receive updates as time went on. But for the next months until the Victory returned to Asia, they were truly apart.
That left him time—too much time—to puzzle out their last hours together. He thought of the way her fingers had felt against his as they’d sat on the floor together. He thought of the light in her smile just before he’d left. He thought of her telling him it was all according to her plan. He thought of her asking him who cared for him.