ignorant? That we know nothing of these things? I'm twenty-five years old!" She set her feet daintily upon the floor. "Think, Ken Jin. My father disappears for hours on end while my mother preaches ceaselessly about the horrors of physical pleasure. Yes, I know there are girls who know nothing of the body's pleasures, but my parents piqued my curiosity when I was still playing with dolls."
"Your mother preaches against such things!"
"My mother said that fun such as this was the devil's trap." She rolled her eyes. "All I heard was fun."
"But how—"
"My friend Stacy has a machine. One to prevent migraines."
He stared, obviously not understanding.
She shook her head, unwilling to give up her friend's secrets. "She taught me."
He took a step forward, anger contorting his usually placid features. "What did she teach you?"
Charlotte stared at him, annoyance beginning to sour her mood. "Why are you angry?"
He blinked and abruptly stiffened his shoulders. "I am not angry!"
Except, of course, he obviously was. Charlotte sighed. Men pursued their pleasures with single-minded abandon, and yet it never occurred to them that women could discover their own ways to enjoy life. How disappointing to find out that Ken Jin was just like other men.
Charlotte abruptly pushed to her feet, her tone prim and authoritative. "Ken Jin, my actions are none of your affair."
He stopped abruptly. So did she. And there they stood, on opposite sides, servant and master, English and Chinese. Except...
"You wish to learn more," he said, his voice low and eerily calm. "I wish for a return of the sacred scrolls."
She blinked. "They're sacred?"
He nodded, but the movement was slow, as if he had not intended to reveal so much. Then he abruptly sat down, then gestured to the open space beside him on the bed. "Please, Miss Charlotte, will you sit and listen?"
His manner was so different than from a moment before, she needed to adjust. Then they'd struggled across a great divide; now he seemed to want to be her friend. Or, if not her friend, her equal. The concept was so disorienting that she sat down merely because she could no longer stand. Just what was this Chinaman about?
"Miss Charlotte," he began, "the scrolls you found describe a course of study, a path to Heaven in a most unusual way."
She felt her face and chest flush with embarrassment. "Only the Chinese would make sex a course of study." When he looked at her in confusion, she elaborated: "We English do not write such things down. We simply..." How to express her father's lecheries?
"You simply rut," he supplied. She opened her mouth to object to the crude term, but he held up his hand to stop her. "You believe you understand your father's activities?"
She looked away. "We English do not talk of those things either."
"But you know of them."
She nodded. Yes, of course she knew. Shanghai's gossip-mongers made sure of that. Indeed, her father's exploits were discussed among even the most sheltered of her friends.
"What he does is rut," Ken Jin continued, his voice gentle despite his harsh words. "Like a beast in the field, he performs according to instinct without conscious thought, except to meet his most basic desire."
Charlotte felt Ken Jin's fingers touch her chin. She felt the rough brush of his calluses, the cool press of his skin against hers as he drew her around to look at him.
"What he does is not wrong. It is merely ignorant."
"Mama believes it is wrong. She says that's why William is... isn't very bright. And that is why she prays so much." She bit her lip, stunned by what she had just admitted. Why would she tell that to a servant? And yet, who else would she talk to about it? Ken Jin was here. He'd lived in their home for the last ten years. He understood what went on in the family; he probably knew better than she did.
His eyes held compassion as he spoke. "I do not understand your white gods."
She shrugged, weary of the conversation. "I'm not sure anyone
"Your mother preaches against such things!"
"My mother said that fun such as this was the devil's trap." She rolled her eyes. "All I heard was fun."
"But how—"
"My friend Stacy has a machine. One to prevent migraines."
He stared, obviously not understanding.
She shook her head, unwilling to give up her friend's secrets. "She taught me."
He took a step forward, anger contorting his usually placid features. "What did she teach you?"
Charlotte stared at him, annoyance beginning to sour her mood. "Why are you angry?"
He blinked and abruptly stiffened his shoulders. "I am not angry!"
Except, of course, he obviously was. Charlotte sighed. Men pursued their pleasures with single-minded abandon, and yet it never occurred to them that women could discover their own ways to enjoy life. How disappointing to find out that Ken Jin was just like other men.
Charlotte abruptly pushed to her feet, her tone prim and authoritative. "Ken Jin, my actions are none of your affair."
He stopped abruptly. So did she. And there they stood, on opposite sides, servant and master, English and Chinese. Except...
"You wish to learn more," he said, his voice low and eerily calm. "I wish for a return of the sacred scrolls."
She blinked. "They're sacred?"
He nodded, but the movement was slow, as if he had not intended to reveal so much. Then he abruptly sat down, then gestured to the open space beside him on the bed. "Please, Miss Charlotte, will you sit and listen?"
His manner was so different than from a moment before, she needed to adjust. Then they'd struggled across a great divide; now he seemed to want to be her friend. Or, if not her friend, her equal. The concept was so disorienting that she sat down merely because she could no longer stand. Just what was this Chinaman about?
"Miss Charlotte," he began, "the scrolls you found describe a course of study, a path to Heaven in a most unusual way."
She felt her face and chest flush with embarrassment. "Only the Chinese would make sex a course of study." When he looked at her in confusion, she elaborated: "We English do not write such things down. We simply..." How to express her father's lecheries?
"You simply rut," he supplied. She opened her mouth to object to the crude term, but he held up his hand to stop her. "You believe you understand your father's activities?"
She looked away. "We English do not talk of those things either."
"But you know of them."
She nodded. Yes, of course she knew. Shanghai's gossip-mongers made sure of that. Indeed, her father's exploits were discussed among even the most sheltered of her friends.
"What he does is rut," Ken Jin continued, his voice gentle despite his harsh words. "Like a beast in the field, he performs according to instinct without conscious thought, except to meet his most basic desire."
Charlotte felt Ken Jin's fingers touch her chin. She felt the rough brush of his calluses, the cool press of his skin against hers as he drew her around to look at him.
"What he does is not wrong. It is merely ignorant."
"Mama believes it is wrong. She says that's why William is... isn't very bright. And that is why she prays so much." She bit her lip, stunned by what she had just admitted. Why would she tell that to a servant? And yet, who else would she talk to about it? Ken Jin was here. He'd lived in their home for the last ten years. He understood what went on in the family; he probably knew better than she did.
His eyes held compassion as he spoke. "I do not understand your white gods."
She shrugged, weary of the conversation. "I'm not sure anyone
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