Between the money Kyle had given her before they left on their journey and the funds from Gavin Elliott, she had enough to survive for many months. She'd go to Scotland. Perhaps there would be an Edinburgh trading company that could use a clerk who spoke and wrote Chinese. If not, surely she could find use for her skills in London. Would Gavin Elliott still want her services now that she was his partner's former mistress rather than his widow? If not, no matter. She would find some kind of work.

Stony eyed, she gave Dornleigh a last glance. She'd wanted Lord Maxwell's aid in getting to Britain, and she'd received that, along with enough money to last her until she was established. They had fulfilled their obligations to each other, and now there was nothing left between them. Nothing.

Chapter 32.

Kyle had been doing his best to ignore his father's words, but he snapped into full awareness when the earl went too far. Kyle clenched his hands against a desire to commit physical violence against his own father. "Troth's honor and virtue are irreproachable, and I will not allow her to be insulted by you or any man. Do I make myself clear?"

Wrexham's jaw dropped. "How dare you speak to your father that way!"

"The duty a man owes his wife takes precedence over that which he owes his father," Kyle said flatly. "You act as if Troth isn't good enough for me. In fact, the reverse is true. I'm not good enough for her."

The earl made an exasperated gesture. "If you insist, she's pure as the driven snow and a credit to her s.e.x. But she's still no wife."

"If you will not accept her as my wife, then I am not your son! Feel free to disinherit me."

Wrexham's face turned an unhealthy shade of red. "You know perfectly well I can't do that! The t.i.tle and almost all of the property are entailed to you. Everything pa.s.ses from eldest son to eldest son-that's the way it should be."

Kyle glared. "Which means I can do any d.a.m.ned thing I want, and you have no recourse."

"Yes. Is it too much to hope that you'll behave with wisdom and honor? "

Kyle rose and paced angrily across the room, his temples pounding. He had avoided being alone with his father because he'd known they would have this argument, and he'd felt unable to resolve the conflict between what he owed Troth and what Wrexham thought his heir owed the family name. But the issue could be sidestepped no longer. How the devil could this fight be ended before he and his father damaged each other irrevocably?

Kyle's relationship with the earl had always been a complex blend of affection, duty, and tension. The older man had inherited an estate on the verge of financial collapse and pulled it back to prosperity with grindingly hard work. He'd become a just and innovative landowner and a conscientious member of the House of Lords. But where his family was concerned, he was fiercely protective and suffocatingly rigid.

Reminding himself of the earl's more admirable qualities, he said more quietly, "I missed you when I was away, Father. I didn't come back to resume fighting again."

Wrexham's face worked. "You never call me 'Father.' "

"Perhaps it's time I did. Your opinion matters a great deal to me, but you can no longer control my life the way you did when Dominic and I were children."

"I don't want to control your life! I just... just don't want you to make disastrous mistakes."

Kyle smiled ruefully. Though his father was a tyrant, he was a well-intentioned one. "Good judgment is a fine thing, but it's mistakes that give us an education."

His father's mouth quirked in an unwilling smile. "I know you're right, but it's hard to stand by and watch one's children ruin themselves."

"Just as in your own childhood, you had to stand by and watch your father ruin the whole Renbourne family?"

"I... I suppose so." Wrexham rubbed his chin, expression baffled. "Never thought of it that way."

During the months in Wu Chong's dungeon, Kyle had thought of many things, seen connections that had never occurred to him before. Suffering, like bad judgment, was educational. It was time he used some of the insight he'd gained to improve his relationship with his father.

"I doubt that Troth and I can build a real marriage between us, but the choice belongs to her. If she freely decides that she will be happier without me, I will bid her farewell and give her my blessing." He fought the wrenching pain produced by the thought of losing her. "If she prefers to stay as Lady Maxwell-and I can't imagine that she'd want to-I will marry her again in the Church of England so no one will ever question the legality of our union. But the choice is hers."

"Don't let your sense of obligation lead you astray, Maxwell," his father said sadly. "You'll both be better off without each other. If she's the paragon you claim, she can find a doting husband, and when you're ready, you can choose a suitable wife. One who will know what it means to be a countess."

"Why do you dislike Troth? Is it simply because she's half-Chinese? The world is changing, Father. Lord Liverpool was a quarter Indian, and he was prime minister for fifteen years. The British royal family has African blood going back through Portuguese royalty. As the empire grows, there will be more and more marriages between different peoples. Shouldn't the Renbournes be leaders?"

"I don't precisely dislike her, but I don't want Chinese blood in the family." Wrexham frowned. "More than that, the blasted chit makes me nervous. She's... too meek. Too bland. Too sly and secretive. I feel there are things going on in her mind that I'll never understand, and that makes me uneasy."

"Troth, bland?" Startled, Kyle thought back over the previous weeks. It was true that she'd been quiet to the point of invisibility, but so had he. "I suppose that's because she's on her best behavior, and in an uncertain situation. But I a.s.sure you, she is neither bland nor secretive. She is unique, and it is her background that makes her so special."

After a long silence, his father said, "You really care for her."

"Yes." An understatement, but he wasn't about to admit to the deep, complicated feelings she aroused. "Fate brought Troth and I together. If she leaves me, so be it, but if you are hoping for grandchildren from me, they will be with Troth, or no one." He smiled without humor. "You'd better pray that she leaves me."

His father rose heavily. "I will pray that you find contentment. Though maybe that's too much to ask."

Kyle stared at the door into the hall after it closed on Wrexham. Just like the old boy to end an argument by saying something insightful. Had he always realized how restless his heir was?

Kyle sat in the study for a long time, thinking about his life. He'd been in a black swamp ever since his imprisonment, haunted by nightmares and paralyzed by indecision. He must pull himself together for the sake of his family.

And for Troth, of course, who had been endlessly patient and undemanding. He needed to summon the strength and resolution to set her free rather than let his silence keep her trapped at Dornleigh. He would miss her as a soldier missed a severed limb, but he had no right to cage her here when he couldn't offer the whole heart she deserved.

He opened his eyes and noticed that it was a perfect spring day. Maybe he and Troth could go for a ride. Dominic had said that she'd become quite competent on horseback, and maybe riding would make it easier to talk.

The thought of riding made him wonder what had happened to the donkey, Sheng. He'd become rather attached to the beast despite its bony spine.

Feeling a tingle of antic.i.p.ation, he rang for the butler. When Hawking appeared, he asked, "Do you know where Lady Maxwell is? I thought she might be interested in going for a ride."

Hawking's brows rose. "Her ladyship didn't find you? She had the same thought and was looking for you here earlier."

"Really? I haven't seen her this morning." A horrifying thought occurred to Kyle. If she'd sought him in the study, she might have approached during his argument with Wrexham. If she'd overheard some of the things that had been said...

Alarmed, he swiftly ascended to Troth's room, hoping he wouldn't find her there weeping. The knowledge that Kyle's father despised her mixed blood would be crushing.

When he knocked on her door, there was no response. After a second knock went unanswered, he cautiously turned the k.n.o.b.

What he found was worse than tears. The bedroom had been ransacked, with drawers and wardrobe gaping, garments tossed across the bed and left crumpled on the floor. It was hard to believe that meticulous Troth lived here. In fact, she didn't-the condition of the room was an open declaration that she'd left. He crossed the room and rang for her maid. Perhaps the girl -Bessy?-would know where her mistress had gone.

As he waited, he saw a note propped on the mantel. Girding himself, he unfolded the paper and read, Lord Maxwell-you and your family wish to be rid of me. Your wish is granted.

As he crushed the note in his hand, the young maid entered and curtsied nervously. "My lord."

"Do you know where Lady Maxwell has gone?" He was amazed how steady his voice sounded.

"I'm not sure, sir, but she asked me to call a carriage for her."

"The travel coach, or one of the smaller carriages?"

"A smaller one."

Rapidly he considered the possibilities. Knowing she couldn't set off on a long journey without the coachman questioning her order, she'd probably gone to the nearby market town of Northampton, where she could catch a coach that would take her to London. No, not London-she'd go to Scotland. He'd meant to take her there, but as with everything else, he hadn't had the energy to follow through on his intentions.

Well, he'd better find some energy now. He strode to his room and swiftly changed to riding clothes. Downstairs he came across his father. "You're in luck," he said acidly. "Troth overheard part of our conversation and has left. I hope to persuade her to come back, but I wouldn't blame her if she refuses."

"d.a.m.nation. I didn't want that." Wrexham frowned. "She may be more willing to return if I leave. Parliament is in session and I should be in London. I can't go until after the reception in your honor tomorrow night, but I'll be off the next morning. Give you and the girl time to work things out, if you're ever going to."

Kyle blinked, startled at his father's offer. "I don't know if that will help, but it's very thoughtful. Thank you."

Wrexham smiled satirically. "I suppose part-Chinese grandchildren are better than none at all." Turning, he marched down the hall, bellowing for his secretary.

In the stable Kyle saddled a dark bay that reminded him of Pegasus. The head groom, Malloy, who'd taught the twins to ride more than thirty years earlier, emerged as Kyle was tightening the cinches. "In the mood for a rare handful of horse, my lord?"

That didn't sound promising. "Does this one have homicidal traits?"

The groom chuckled. "Nay, lad, just high spirits. You'll like Nelson fine."

Malloy was right about the high spirits. When Kyle mounted, Nelson burst into a series of bucks that sent Kyle flying across the yard to land with bruising force. As a stableboy caught Nelson, Malloy rushed up, alarmed. "Are you hurt, my lord?"

Swearing under his breath, Kyle waved the groom away. "I'm fine."

He brushed himself off, then approached Nelson with steely determination. Stupid of him to forget that it had been over a year since he'd been on horseback. Sheng didn't count. With a spirited beast like Nelson, it was essential to prove who was in charge from the beginning. For most of his life authority had been second nature, but in China he'd lost the habit.

Standing and moving like a man who knew he was the master, he collected the reins and spent a couple of minutes petting the horse, not allowing it to push him back. When he thought he'd made his point, he mounted again. This time he was prepared for Nelson's tests and managed to counter every challenge.

When Kyle brought Nelson to a well-behaved standstill, Malloy said, "I see you haven't lost your touch."

"Rusty, but not wholly incompetent.'' Kyle trotted out of the yard, then released the horse into an exhilarating gallop across the hills toward Northampton.

He didn't doubt that he could find Troth-but then what?

Chapter 33.

Kyle's pleasure in the ride was grayed from exhaustion by the time he entered Northampton. Malaria had undermined his strength and stamina as badly as the prison in Feng-tang had battered his emotions and spirit.

Since he'd come cross-country, Troth's carriage couldn't have arrived here much before he had. With luck he'd find her at a coaching inn. If she'd already left-well, her distinctive appearance would make her easy to follow.

But what the devil should he say when he found her? Just as he'd tried to avoid talking with his father, he had avoided Troth for the same reason. He'd known that any discussion would be harrowing, and he hadn't felt equal to that. Inevitably, delay had made the situation worse. From the state of Troth's bedroom, he guessed that she'd left Dornleigh in a fury, and surely deeply hurt as well.

The h.e.l.l of it was that she should leave so she could begin the life she'd dreamed of. Loyalty and courtesy were what had kept her at Dornleigh even though she obviously disliked the place. Yet he couldn't bear for them to part like this, in pain and anger.

Praying she was here, he rode into the coaching yard of the George, turned Nelson over to an ostler, and went inside to find the innkeeper. When the man appeared, Kyle said, "I'm Maxwell. Has a tall, beautiful, foreign-looking woman come in recently?"

"Aye," the innkeeper said, professionally cautious but responding to Kyle's air of authority. "Would you be having business with her, sir?"

"I'm her husband."

"Ah. Then she's not Miss Montgomery, but Mrs. Maxwell. The lady is in a private parlor, waiting for the northbound coach. This way, sir."

Grateful to have found her so easily, Kyle followed the innkeeper. The private parlor contained a dining table and a half dozen worn but comfortable chairs. Troth sat at the table, picking at a platter of bread, cheese, and onions. When Kyle entered she glanced up, the color draining from her face.

"I gather that you overheard my father being his most pigheaded self this morning," Kyle said bluntly. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry!" Eyes glittering with rage, she jumped to her feet. "Your father despises me, while you regard me as an unfortunate obligation, like an old hound that has outlived its usefulness. Surely I should apologize to the Renbournes for contaminating the pure English air of Dornleigh."

He winced. "My father said a lot of ghastly things, but eventually he and I did reach a better understanding."

Before he could say more, she spat out, " 'A better understanding.' You both agreed our so-called marriage was invalid-the only question was the best way to dispose of my inconvenient person. Well, I've solved that. After today, I shall never trouble you again." Her eyes showed terrifying depths of anger and pain.

"Troth, no!" He stepped toward her, unable to bear the sight of her anguish. "The marriage was real to me, and I thought it was to you. Please -come home so we can work out what's to be done together."

"I'll never go back to that horrible place!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed a sharp cheese knife from the table. "I'd rather die!"

Kyle stopped in his tracks. "Surely the situation isn't that dire."

Her face twisted with blazing rage. "You understand nothing. But if you want dire, you shall have it." She pressed the tip of the cheese knife to her throat, then threw herself forward so that the blade would be driven straight into her body.

Horrified, Kyle dived across the room, catching her wrist and ripping the knife away as they crashed to the worn carpeting. While Troth struggled to break free, he pushed her hand back toward the floor so the blade would endanger neither of them. She fought him furiously, kicking and clawing as she tried to regain control of the knife. "d.a.m.n you!" she gasped. "d.a.m.n the whole lot of you."

"Dear G.o.d, Troth, don't do this! Don't." She was lithe and incredibly strong, capable of thwarting an a.s.sault by half a dozen dangerous men, yet he didn't dare use any of the filthy fighting tricks he'd learned in unsavory places for fear of injuring her. With his own strength far below normal, he had to pin her down by sheer body weight.

As he sprawled on top of her, immobilizing her limbs and the lethal knife, he said desperately, "How have we come to this, when there was so much kindness between us? "

She stopped struggling, her breathing harsh. "B-because you're sorry you ever met me." She began to weep with utter desolation.

"It's you who have reason to curse meeting me." She didn't resist when he pulled the knife from her hand and tossed it aside, then sat up and drew her across his lap, rocking her against him. "Swear that you'll never try that again, Troth. Killing yourself isn't the answer no matter how bad things are."

"What's the point of living in a world where I belong nowhere?" she said through tormented sobs. "At least in Canton I had a place, even if it was one I didn't like."

Guilt gnawed at him like a prison rat. "If I'd had the means of killing myself in Feng-tang, I would have done it-and that would have been a mistake. The last months haven't been good, but they've been better than Wu Chong's dungeon, and G.o.d willing, in time things will be better yet. They will improve for you, too."

"But you belong here. I don't. I never will."

He stroked her silky hair, where auburn highlights glowed against the darkness. "I don't blame you for wanting to leave Dornleigh-it's dismal at best, and I've been worse than useless. I'm sorry. It was my place to provide for you, and I've failed."

"Your place!" She sat up, eyes snapping again. "We owe each other nothing, Lord Maxwell. I took you to Hoshan, you brought me to England. We have each done what we promised and are free to go our separate paths."

"Surely there was more than obligation between us on the journey to Hoshan." Aching, he studied her beautiful, exotic face, the long eyes swollen by tears. "But I was a fool to think that becoming lovers could ever be as simple as it seemed then."

Her gaze dropped. "Being lovers was simple-marriage never occurred to me. Yet after that ceremony, I... I began to think of you as my husband. But it was never real, was it? You were right-no one had a reason to challenge the marriage when you were thought dead. Now you're alive, and I was never your wife."

"The ceremony was as real to me as it was to you. At the time, it seemed like a wonderful idea." He touched her cheek, then dropped his hand when she flinched away. "Come back to Dornleigh, if only for a little while. I can't bear for us to separate in anger."

Her eyes closed, tears seeping out again. "No. I tried so hard, but nothing I do will ever be good enough. I'll never be an English lady because I'm a Chinese wh.o.r.e."