‘Cedric,’ she began, her voice tentative. ‘I have looked at the ship’s account.’
He tensed though he didn’t want to. She should be pleased by her profit.
‘Why did you spend so much silver in China? The tea was not that expensive.’
Trust her to find the one thing he wasn’t anxious to tell her. But it was in the account book, so he knew he couldn’t hide it from her. ‘I only took from my share. It was not debited from anyone else.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But what did you buy?’
Information. Knowledge so that he could understand her better.
‘Cedric?’
‘Captain Banakos did not tell you?’
‘I haven’t asked him. I’m asking you.’
There was no real secret. And it was something he wanted to tell her. And yet, the words were difficult to confess. It felt too vulnerable to confess how desperately he had missed her. And to what lengths he had gone to learn more about her.
He had done so willingly, though he hadn’t expected to give so much silver. He’d miscalculated the cost of the bribes and, of course, hadn’t expected the storm or the expensive repairs.
‘What did you do?’ she pressed.
‘I went to the temple where you were raised. I wanted to see it. I wanted to know who you were before.’
She stared at him, clearly understanding the magnitude of what he had done. It was difficult for Cantonese to slip into the Thirteen Factories district. It was near impossible to smuggle a white man from that district into Canton proper.
‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘If you had been caught…’ She shook her head. ‘If you had been betrayed, you would have died horribly! Do you know what could have happened to you in a Chinese prison?’
Probably not. But he’d had to see it himself, where she had come from, how she had lived. Her world was so alien to his experience, but he understood things better now. And he had seen the other children at the temple, her sisters and brothers, so to speak. Many of mixed races like her. Others with obvious deformities. Children who were not wanted and had not been killed at birth. Children who survived on the charity of the temple.
‘They asked about you,’ he said. ‘I told them you were doing well.’ His gaze slid away from her. ‘They wondered if I had come to adopt more children as your father had.’
‘The children at the temple will not have good lives in China,’ she said. ‘That is why I had to leave.’
He had not realised the depth of her problems in China. Not until he’d seen it himself. ‘I wanted to take them back with me. Iwanted to adopt them all. I gave them all the silver I had instead. I made them promise to use it to feed the children.’
She said nothing, and when he looked at her face, he saw shock and understanding.
‘When we first met, you gave away your last coin to a pickpocket.’
He frowned, not remembering but believing her nonetheless. ‘I suppose it was foolish of me.’
‘It is what first drew me to you. You are a kind man, not a selfish one. Thank you for caring for my other siblings. It is good that they know someone cares.’
‘I hope they will honour their promise.’ He had no way to ensure that the monks spent the money on the children.
‘They will do it. They care, too. Otherwise, none of the half children would survive.’
That was good to know. And good that she understood that he couldn’t see those children, know they were half-starved and reviled, and not do anything for them. And, of course, he hadn’t expected to spend the rest of his money on ship repairs.
She touched his hand, showing him with a simple caress that she understood him. And that she was grateful for what he had done. Pleased beyond measure by that, he shifted until their fingers were entwined.
‘What are your plans now?’ he asked.
She frowned. ‘Plans?’
‘Yes,’ he said, stretching for the right words. ‘Your plans. You have money now or will soon, thanks to the cargo.’