She sighed as she thought of all the problems that would have to be overcome if she traveled to her father's land. Perhaps the freedom to live as she wished was within her grasp. But did she have the courage and wisdom to reach for it?

She feared she did not.

England

December 1832

Exhausted from tears and troubled sleep, Troth was dozing when a tap on the door heralded a maid with a breakfast tray. The pearly light in the bedroom indicated that it was another dreary, overcast morning.

The maid crossed to the bed, her expression uncertain. "Lady likee-likee tea?"

Where had the girl learned such an absurd parody of pidgin? Troth said rather dryly, "Tea would be very nice, thank you."

The maid flushed scarlet. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I'd heard you were a foreigner."

"True, but some foreigners do speak English." Not wanting to embarrass the girl further, she asked, "Your name is…?"

"Sally, ma'am." She set the bed tray over Troth's lap, trying to conceal her fascinated gaze. Troth had received many such glances-and blatant stares, too-on the voyage and after her arrival in Britain. Had there ever been a Chinese visitor to Shropshire? Even in London, she had been an oddity.

"Would you like anything else, Lady Maxwell?"

"No, thank you, Sally. This should suffice."

The maid bowed and left Troth with a breakfast tray that included bacon, eggs, and sausage, plus warm bread, butter, and marmalade. She'd become accustomed to such British breakfasts, though a meal still seemed incomplete without rice. Hungry, she ate everything and emptied the teapot, which contained quite a nice Young Hyson variety.

Ready to face the day, she rose from the bed and found that the dress she'd worn the day before had been brushed and laid out on a chair. The rest of her paltry possessions were folded in the clothespress. Warfield Park took good care of its guests.

After dressing, she emerged from her room to find Lady Grahame curled up in a chair opposite the door, reading a book. This morning the countess wore a simple green gown, and her silver-blond hair was braided into a loose queue. She was as stunning as she'd been the night before in formal dress. Though about Troth's age, she had the kind of self-possession found only in older women in China.

Lady Grahame looked up from her book when Troth stepped into the hall. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Reasonably so. Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Grahame."

"I am Meriel." The countess uncoiled from the chair, leaving the book behind. "Would you like to come with me to the orangery? It's a peaceful place."

Grateful for the friendly overture, Troth said, "Peace is always welcome."

Together they descended the stairs to the hall where she had entered the evening before. Kyle had said his sister-in-law was as petite as a Cantonese woman, and he was right. "Your husband-how is he?"

Meriel sighed. "A part of him has died. Kyle had promised to come home one day, and I think Dominic always believed that would happen despite the risks of travel."

"I wish there were something I could have done," Troth said wretchedly.

"My husband told me your story, and it's obvious that you were lucky to escape with your own life. By your coming here, at least we know what happened." Meriel swallowed. "That's… better than waiting and hoping forever."

"Did you know Kyle well? "

"We met only a few times, but through his letters to Dominic, he became my brother as well."

Meriel fell silent, leading the way through the house until she opened a door into wonderland. Troth gasped when she stepped into the large glass-walled orangery, feeling as if she were back in Canton. The air was tropically warm and scented from the flourishing citrus trees. There were shrubs and flowers, too, and winding brick paths and benches. Most magical of all, snow was falling outside the windows, coating the world outside in lacy white.

"This is my favorite retreat in winter," Meriel said. "A place to dream and wait for spring."

"How beautiful." Troth crossed the orangery to a paned-glass wall so she could stare out at the drifting flakes.

"Have you ever seen snow before?"

Troth shook her head. "Never. I had no idea it was so lovely." She turned to her hostess. "When I told Kyle that my master Chenqua's garden was the most beautiful in the world, he said yours was its equal. I see why."

Meriel smiled, pleased, as she seated herself on a wooden bench that looked out toward a parterre, whose geometric hedges made subtle patterns in the snow. "I'm glad he thought so. At this season the outside gardens are sleeping, but come spring you'll be impressed, I think."

Troth sat on the other end of the bench. "Forgive my curiosity if this is not a proper question, but I do not understand how your husband and Kyle can both be lords when they are brothers."

"The Grahame title was in my family and would have become extinct when my uncle died," Meriel explained. "My father-in-law thought it a waste of a perfectly good title, so he petitioned the king to have it recreated on behalf of Dominic and me."

What mother wouldn't want that for her son? Kyle had told Troth about Dominic and Meriel's children, a son and a daughter born after their uncle had left England. He'd been looking forward to meeting them for the first time…

As Troth swallowed against the tightness in her throat, a huge marmalade tomcat appeared. It gazed at her assessingly with luminous golden eyes, then suddenly leaped onto her lap. After circling several times, the beast flopped down and made itself at home. As Troth cautiously stroked the sleek fur, Meriel said, " You are now officially part of the family. Ginger likes you."

"You are too kind, Lady Grahame," Troth said helplessly. "Kyle and I knew each other only a matter of weeks, and I'm not sure the marriage would be considered valid. I came only to give your husband news. I don't deserve to be part of your family."

Meriel touched her hand, her gentleness soothing. "Tell me."

Troth took a steadying breath, then described the circumstances of her marriage. Meriel listened thoughtfully, with no trace of shock or judgment. When the account was finished, she said, "Unconventional, but real. As to whether the ceremony is legal…" She sighed. "A moot point with Kyle dead. There was no marriage settlement, of course, but your dower rights and his personal property will give you a comfortable independence, which he clearly wanted."

"I can't accept a fortune from him! He didn't love me. I was just someone he felt responsibility for."

"Did you love him?"

Troth sucked in her breath. She should deny it, but she couldn't.

Reading the answer in Troth's expression, Meriel said, "I'm glad that at the end he had someone who loved him. No one will challenge your rights of inheritance."

Troth pressed a hand over her eyes, on the verge of tears. She'd be a fool not to welcome financial security, but the acceptance of Kyle's family meant even more. She had not felt this sense of belonging since her father's death. "You are… so kind. How can you accept someone like me, who is so alien to your world?"

"For many years, I was an alien in my own home. It is love that binds us to the world, and you loved Kyle," Meriel said softly. "Our home is your home for as long as you want to stay."

The tears came again, and with them the beginning of healing.