A rap sounded on the door. "Jin Kang?"

It was Ling-Ling. "Lovely Bell" was Chenqua's Fourth Lady, the youngest, prettiest, and liveliest of his wives, and Troth's closest friend in the household. Not wanting to be caught in her forbidden garments, she called out, "A moment, Ling-Ling."

Swiftly she removed her finery and folded it back into the chest, then pulled on her trousers and tunic. There wasn't time to replait her hair, but as Ling-Ling called impatiently Troth yanked out the pins and shook it loose over her shoulders. Only then did she open the door.

Ling-Ling entered, exquisitely made up and swaying gracefully on her tiny bound feet. Her "golden lilies" were only three inches long, a fact of great pride to her. She looked up at Troth, surprised. "What a lot of hair you have, and with that odd yellow color. Not properly black. Your Fan-qui blood, of course."

Troth suppressed a sigh. Her friend was nothing if not forthright. Dressed in a queue, Troth's hair looked decently dark, but loose it showed rusty highlights. "We can't all be as fortunate as you, Ling-Ling."

"Very true." Smiling mischievously, Ling-Ling perched on the only chair. "You've unbound your breasts, I see. You're so large.'"

"More of that dreadful Fan-qui blood."

Ling-Ling nodded. "The barbarians are enormous, aren't they? And so hairy. The last time my lord entertained some at dinner, I watched from behind a screen. How horrible it would be to belong to one!"

"A terrible thought. You might have ended up with a child like me."

"It's not your fault you have tainted blood."

Knowing her friend meant no insult, Troth settled on the bed, stretching out her injured ankle. "Did you come up here for some special reason? "

Ling-Ling leaned forward in the chair, her eyes glowing. "I think I am with child!"

"That's wonderful! Are you sure?"

"Not quite yet, but I feel it in my bones. I will give my lord a son!"

"It could be a girl."

Ling-Ling shook her head. "I have prayed at the temple of Kuan Yin, and burned joss sticks to her daily. It will be a son. My lord wants that, too, or he would not have released his seed. He will be so pleased."

Ling-Ling's frank chatter had taught Troth much about what happened between men and women in bed. She always listened with queasy interest, intensely curious but feeling that it was improper to hear about such private matters. She couldn't imagine Chenqua as a lover, though according to Ling-Ling, his kung fu strength was equaled by his amatory endurance. If he'd fathered another child at his age, he was fit indeed.

"Boy or girl, I envy you, Ling-Ling."

The girl tilted her head to one side. "Truly? I didn't think you were interested in a woman's life."

"I've had no choice but to be Jin Kang." Troth's mouth twisted. "No man would have me."

"No Chinese man would, of course, but a Fan-qui might," Ling-Ling said thoughtfully. "Such a man would be honored to have a concubine who carried the blood of the Celestial Kingdom."

Troth had often secretly studied the European traders, wondering what it would be like to be with one of them. Gavin Elliott in particular appealed to her, for he reminded her of her father: tall and handsome, honorable and clever, courteous to all. But Lord Maxwell-Troth flushed when she thought of him. He had fired both her blood and her imagination, even though any such relationship was unthinkable.

"Aiiee, is there one you fancy?" Ling-Ling asked eagerly. "Shall I ask my lord tonight when we lie together to give you to the Fan-qui you desire?"

"No!" Troth made herself shrug as if indifferent. "I may be half barbarian myself, but that doesn't mean that I want to mate with one."

Ling-Ling nodded approval. It was a very proper sentiment.

A lie, of course. Though marrying a Fan-qui was impossible, Troth certainly dreamed of mating with one.


Gavin poured a cup of steaming tea into a handle-less Chinese cup and offered it to Kyle. "What do you think?"

Kyle tasted it thoughtfully. Under his friend's tutelage, he'd become something of an expert at evaluating teas. "Rather bland."

"You're being charitable. It's dead boring. But… offered at a very attractive price…? I wonder if it's worth shipping all the way to Boston."

Kyle took another sip. "What if you add some kind of flavoring? The basic tea taste is fairly strong. Blending in something else will add interest."

Gavin looked intrigued. "Any suggestions?"

"I've had tea flavored with cardamom in India. It has a lovely taste and scent. Or you might try some kind of citrus. Either lemon or orange."

His friend nodded thoughtfully. "I'll order a goodly amount of the tea, and we can start experimenting with flavors. I'll make a merchant of you yet. Care to help establish a London branch of Elliott House?"

"You're expanding your trade into England?"

"It's the logical next step. Britain has many more customers than the United States." Gavin grinned. "When I was a lad in Aberdeen, I quite fancied myself as the master of one of the world's great trading companies."

"You're well on your way." Kyle hadn't done badly himself. He'd started dabbling in trade to learn whether he was capable of success unrelated to his rank, and he'd found satisfaction and profit in his ventures. Though he was returning to the staid life of an English gentleman, he wanted to maintain his connection with the East, and that was probably a factor in Gavin's decision to expand Elliott House's operations. "I think a London office is an excellent idea-it will save me from respectability."

It would also give Kyle an excuse for future travel, though not until he'd done his duty by marrying and getting an heir or two. It was a dull prospect, but no longer unbearable, as it had been when he'd left England. Surely he could find a good-tempered young woman who would make him a comfortable, undemanding wife. He did not expect great love. That came only once in a lifetime.

Gavin added some figures to a sheet of paper he produced from an inside pocket. "I'm late for a meeting at Consoo House. Will you ask Jin Kang to write this letter to Pao Tien, the merchant who sent me this tea sample? I need to place an order."

"Can Jin read English?" Kyle asked, surprised.

"I doubt it. Just read the letter out loud. He'll translate it into Chinese and add all the right flowery phrases."

"I'll take care of it right away." Kyle was glad of an excuse to seek Jin Kang out. Perhaps he could learn why the young man had made such an impression on him at their first meeting.

He was turning to leave when Gavin said, "Don't forget that tonight is the grand dinner in your honor at the English Factory."

Kyle groaned. "I've been doing my best to forget it. Why do the East India Company fellows feel the need to give me an official welcome? I've already met every Western trader in Canton, I think."

"Because there's damned little to do in Canton. No wives or mistresses allowed, all of us confined to a piece of land not much bigger than a cricket pitch- any excuse for diversion will do. Entertaining a visiting viscount is a good reason to break out the best silver."

That made sense. Though Kyle was intrigued by China, he'd go mad if he had to spend half a year living such a restricted life. After only three days, he was already longing for a good gallop through open country. That would have to wait until he went home to Dornleigh. As he threaded his way through the crowded warehouse, he could almost feel a cool English wind on his face. Yes, it was time to return home.

But he still had a month in Canton. Even if he couldn't arrange to visit the Temple of Hoshan, he must learn as much as possible about the China trade. When he inherited the earldom and took his seat in the House of Lords, he'd have to deal with issues of trade and foreign policy, and there was no substitute for firsthand knowledge.

Opium was an integral part of the China trade, and public sentiment back home disapproved of the fact that British merchants were purveyors of drugs. Kyle agreed. A major reason he'd saved Elliott House from bankruptcy was because the American firm was one of the few companies that didn't deal in opium.

Of course, America had furs and ginseng and other products the Chinese wanted. Traders from other nations weren't so lucky. China wasn't interested in European manufactured goods-but opium from Turkey or British India was quite another matter.

He entered the office. Half a dozen clerks were there, most of them Portuguese. Jin Kang sat at a corner desk working the odd collection of beads known as an abacus. The thing looked like a child's toy, but was supposed to be useful for calculations.

Making a mental note to get someone to explain it to him later, Kyle silently approached Jin. "How is your ankle, Jin Kang?"

Jin gave a swift, startled glance before dropping his gaze to the abacus again. His eyes were indeed a warm brown rather than black. "It is well, sir." His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible.

Kyle drew up an empty chair and sat beside the desk. "Mr. Elliott gave me a letter that he'd like you to write for him."

"Of course, sir." Jin set the abacus aside and pulled paper and other writing equipment from a desk drawer. Kyle watched with interest as the young man ground part of a black cake on a stone, then mixed in water to make black ink.

When Jin was ready, Kyle slowly read the letter aloud. Using a brush instead of a quill or a pen, the young man painted a column of complex symbols down the page, starting on the right side of the paper and working toward the left. Occasionally he would pause and ask for clarification of a word or phrase. Though his English was slow and awkward, he was conscientious.