Troth had rejected the advice, since her greatest desire had been to fit in with the Renbournes. But she never would-Lord Wrexham had made that brutally clear. Though she'd foolishly thought his gift of jewelry was a mark of acceptance, Meriel had recognized that the present had been about Kyle, not her.

The devil take Lord Wrexham. She had given up trying to please him, and her marriage to Kyle was to all intents and purposes over. Tonight she would be what she'd always wanted to be-a grand Chinese lady. "I've changed my mind.''

She opened the bottom drawer of her clothespress and took out the gifts Kyle had given her in Canton. She had transferred these items from trunk to drawer with her own hands, so Bessy had never seen them.

Undergarments, trousers, jewelry, and cosmetics came out of storage, followed by the magnificent scarlet robe embroidered with flowers and butterflies. Carefully she spread it out on her bed. Good, almost no wrinkles.

Bessy touched the robe as if fearing it would dissolve under her fingertips. "Oh, my lady! This is Chinese?''

Troth nodded. "I shall wear it tonight."

"I… I don't know how to help you put this on," Bessy said anxiously.

"No help is needed. Chinese clothing is easier to wear than European." After donning undergarments and trousers, Troth put on the robe, fastening the frogs from shoulder to knees. For a moment she was caught by her image in the mirror-a woman dressed in bridal scarlet who was no true bride. She suppressed a sigh. "What do you think, Bessy?"

The maid's eyes were round as saucers. "I've never seen such a sight! But the trousers… well, aren't they indecent on a female?"

"Not in China." Troth smiled as she sat down at the mirrored dressing table, remembering her own reaction to the low-cut lavender gown. Now she was modestly covered to the neck, and far more comfortable than she'd have been in the corseted lavender gown. Expertly she dressed her hair in a high, elaborate style, securing the heavy coils with chased-gold hairpins.

Then she opened her lacquered cosmetic box, where the palettes were formed into the shape of a lotus. She was tempted to apply masklike formal court makeup, but decided against it, though it certainly would raise eyebrows in Northamptonshire. Instead she added artful shadings of color to her cheeks and lips and darkened her brows.

Lastly she double-looped the carved jade necklace around her neck, and dabbed perfume from the crystal vial Kyle had given her onto her throat and wrists. As the intoxicating scent was released by the warmth of her body, she lifted the delicate ivory fan and turned to her maid. "Shall I shock everyone?"

Bessy shook her head. "They'll never have seen such a sight, my lady."

"Good." With a smile on her lips and a deep desire to stun the natives senseless, Troth headed downstairs to join the earl's entertainment.


It was good to see old friends and neighbors, but tiring. Very, very tiring. Kyle would have to last through the evening, though, since Wrexham's gout was kicking up and he might need to retire early. They couldn't both disappear. Luckily the gathering wasn't a formal ball, but there was dancing, a card room, and ample opportunity to talk with people over good food and drink.

A pretty blond daughter of Lord Hamill, who lived near Kettering, came tripping over to Kyle. He recognized the tribe but not the individual-Hamill had a hatful of pretty blond daughters. Brightly she said, "I have a wager with my sisters that you won't remember who I am. Will you prove me wrong?"

"You are one of the beauteous Miss Hamills," Kyle replied as he racked his brain.

"That part is easy. Which one?" Her eyes twinkled.

"The most beauteous, of course."

She laughed and rapped his arm playfully with her fan. "A clever answer, but not good enough. You knew my name once. A hint-our initials are in alphabetical order."

The girl was all of about twenty, which meant that she'd have been in the schoolroom when he left England. Probably she was Hamill's youngest. Let's see, Anne, Barbara, Chloe, Diana… "Surely you are Miss Eloise."

"How clever you are! It was worth losing my wager to see such a demonstration of memory and intelligence." She batted her eyes at him with a blend of teasing and seriousness. She made him feel… very old.

Where the devil was Troth? He was beginning to wonder if she'd changed her mind about attending the reception.

Then he heard murmurs of shock from the guests around him. He turned, and his heart caught when he saw her poised at the entrance to the ballroom. Tall and slim and swathed in shimmering scarlet and gold, she was a magnificent peacock among pigeons. Her dark hair swooped up to reveal a slender neck, while her enigmatic expression made her a woman of splendid mystery.

Languidly she fanned herself as her gaze swept the room. Her brows rose fractionally when she saw him with Eloise Hamill. Forgetting the girl's existence, along with common sense and self-restraint, Kyle cut across the room and took Troth's hand. "You look stunning," he murmured. "Are you set on startling Northamptonshire out of ten years' growth?"

"Not at all." There was a wicked glint in her eyes as she glanced at Wrexham, who was regarding her with astonishment. "I am dressed as a modest Chinese lady."

"The like of which has never been seen in these parts." He couldn't take his eyes from her. She was lovely in all circumstances, but tonight's costume emphasized her foreign side. She looked like an exquisite Chinese concubine whose price was an empire.

He escorted her to his father, who was in a group with several local landowners, including the Duke of Candover, who was lord lieutenant of the county. Candover nodded to him. "I'm glad to see you returned in one piece, Maxwell."

"Not half so glad as I. Allow me to present my wife, my lords. We were handfasted in China."

Wrexham scowled, but Kyle decided to attribute that to the pain of gout rather than public disapproval of his temporary daughter-in-law. Troth bowed gracefully. It would have been interesting if she'd done a full kowtow, prostrating herself and touching her forehead to the floor, but Kyle was glad that she refrained. Good society in Northampton would have swooned at the sight.

Candover bowed in return. "I'm pleased to meet you, Lady Maxwell."

"By Jove, she certainly is a beauty," Lord Hamill exclaimed.

"I've heard that Chinese men can have as many wives and concubines as they want," Sir Edward Swithin said with interest. "How fortunate for them!"

Ancient Lord Whitby, known for his earthiness, cackled. "A handfasting, so you can sample the goods and then move on? Clever of you, Maxwell."

"On the contrary," Troth said in her crisp, Scottish-accented English. "The handfasting was purely a matter of form. My situation was difficult, and Lord Maxwell gallantly intervened to assist me in leaving China and coming to Britain."

There was a frozen silence as the men absorbed her words. The Duke of Candover recovered first. Humor lurking in his eyes, he said, "You have a remarkable grasp of our language, Lady Maxwell."

She gave him the full benefit of her luminous gaze. "My father was a Scot, so I've spoken English from the cradle."

"A Scot, eh? No wonder you look foreign," Sir Edward said.

Awkward moment over, they all laughed, even Troth. "My father would have turned over in his grave to know I was wed to an Englishman, but at least with a handfasting, I'll soon be free of the Sassenach."

"One could argue about the legality of handfasting if not done on Scottish soil, but it suited the circumstances," Kyle said, wishing she wasn't quite so keen on pointing out the temporary nature of their arrangement.

Sir Edward said, "No gentleman could have refused a request for aid from such a beautiful lady."

Gloomily aware that Sir Edward was single, rich, and highly eligible, Kyle said, "Would you like to attempt the dancing, my dear?"

"Thank you. I should enjoy that."

He led her onto the floor. "Did you waltz at Warfield?"

"Hardly-I was in mourning for my dead husband. But I observed the dancing closely."

She moved into waltz position, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his clasp. As she gave him a sultry glance, he realized how unwise it was to waltz with her. This close, long-dormant desire began to stir. Her Chinese costume didn't include gloves, and he was ridiculously conscious of the bare fingers resting within his own gloved hand.

She needed little instruction in the steps of the dance. Her observations, coupled with her natural athletic grace, enabled her to quickly learn how to follow his lead. He said, "You've a gift for this."

Her eyes glinted up through dark lashes with wicked provocation. "Waltzing is not so different from wing chun sparring."

Uneasily he recognized that she was sparring now. She was angry, not specifically at him, he guessed, or even his father. Rather, she had armored herself against a world that hadn't lived up to her wistful dreams.

He had a vivid memory of the temple cave, where they'd first made love and she'd taught him about chi. In the heart of a mountain, they had both discovered pure happiness. But ultimately, her relationship with him had cost her something precious. He could only hope that in the future she would be able to put aside the armor and find hope and trust with another man.

As they whirled across the floor, desire intensified. Damnation, he didn't need that now! He would miss her presence abominably when she was gone, and desire would only make it worse.

He'd better hope that the year and a day was over before he fully recovered his strength, because having her nearby without physical intimacy was going to be more difficult with every day that passed. Yet in the weeks they had left he would be unable to resist her company, for he would need the memories when she was gone.