Canton, China

Spring 1832

"More wine, Lord Maxwell?" Chenqua leaned toward his guest attentively.

"Yes, please. Your wines are very fine." Kyle took a small sip after a servant replenished his glass. Gavin, another of the guests, had warned him to expect at least thirty courses spread over five or six hours, so moderation was essential.

Kyle had welcomed this banquet at Chenqua's palace, since he was unlikely to see the inside of any other Chinese residence. The merchant's home was a sprawling, magnificently airy structure of curved roofs, courtyards, and marble floors. The meal was equally magnificent. Musicians played from a gallery while French, English, and Chinese dishes were offered, each course served on a different set of exquisite porcelain dinnerware. Yet by Cohong standards, Chenqua was considered rather austere.

Curious as always, Kyle selected from the Chinese dishes. The textures and flavors were sometimes odd, but interesting and often delicious.

Noticing that his guest had requested chopsticks, Chenqua said, "You are interested in our ways, my lord?"

"Very much so. Your culture is the most ancient on earth. A barbarian cannot hope to truly understand the depths of Chinese society, but I must make the attempt."

Chenqua nodded at such a proper sentiment. "Better understanding between our nations will benefit us all."

Deciding the time would never be better, Kyle said, "Would it be possible for me to see more of your country? Perhaps accompanied by guards to ensure that I will cause no trouble, or traveling with the Jesuits who already know your ways?"

Chenqua's eyes darkened. "That would be… difficult. Very difficult."

Kyle had learned that Chinese hated to give a direct refusal, so the merchant's "very difficult" was equivalent to an Englishman saying, "Not bloody likely!" To avoid embarrassing his host, he said, "Perhaps at some future date, when our nations have developed stronger bonds, such travel might be possible."

"Yes," Chenqua said, relieved. "Some future date." He turned his attention to William Boynton, taipan of the East India Company, who sat on his other side.

Kyle had hoped to see Troth, but there was no sign of her. He wondered if she lurked behind the carved screens that constituted one wall of the dining area. He'd heard occasional feminine giggles from that direction and guessed that the ladies of the household were watching their lord's guests. Of course, Troth was not considered a lady.

There was a pause after the fifteenth course while a stage was erected for the performance of a play. As dishes were cleared away, Kyle asked Chenqua, "Is it permitted to stroll in the garden for a few minutes? I should like to see more of it."

"Please do. A garden refreshes the soul as surely as a banquet refreshes the body."

Grateful for the chance to stretch his legs, Kyle went outside, though actually the dining area was so open that the difference between indoors and out was somewhat arbitrary. When he and the other Fan-qui had arrived, Chenqua had personally guided them through a portion of the stunning gardens. Several acres had been shaped into hills and grottos, with water from the Pearl River channeled in to form a web of streams and lily ponds. There wasn't a straight path anywhere.

After exploring the farthest reaches of the gardens, Kyle was returning to the house when he looked across a pond and saw two figures enter an octagonal pavilion built over the water. Sure the taller one was Troth, he circled the pond and went after her.

He'd almost reached the pavilion when a small, brightly garbed female flitted out of the structure, swaying gracefully on impossibly small feet. Just before vanishing behind a decorative boulder, the young woman glanced back, masking her lower face with a handkerchief. She giggled, black eyes mischievous, then disappeared.

Startled by his first sight of a highborn Chinese lady, he was gazing after her when a voice said, "Ling-Ling is very lovely, is she not? She is Chenqua's Fourth Lady."

He turned to Troth, who was regarding him austerely from the doorway of the pavilion. "I hope I haven't violated some taboo by seeing her."

"No harm done. I suspect that Ling-Ling greatly enjoyed having a near-encounter with a barbarian."

"I do my best to entertain." He studied Troth's face. With her hair drawn back in a queue, the sculpted planes had a cool beauty that intrigued him far more than the highly polished young woman who had just left. He reminded himself that he had no business thinking amorous thoughts about Troth. She was not a joy girl to be casually bedded and forgotten. Their lives lay half a world apart. "You haven't been at Elliott House since our shopping expedition. Did I exhaust you?"

"I have been needed at the English Factory, my lord." Troth dropped her gaze. "Many thanks for your gifts. They were well chosen."

"I'm glad you enjoyed them." Wondering how she looked when dressed in feminine finery, he followed her into the pavilion. It was a teahouse, the walls like carved lace. A low octagonal table stood in the center, the shape echoing that of the building, and a padded bench was built around the walls. "What a lovely place. Is this a favorite spot of yours?"

She settled onto the bench. "I meditate here sometimes. This is the most beautiful garden in the world, I think."

He took a seat himself, deliberately choosing the opposite side of the teahouse. "My sister-in-law's garden is its equal. The styles are very different, but it would be impossible to say that one is superior to the other."

"I've never seen a real English garden."

He studied the line of her throat, elegantly defined by the dim light. "The gardens at Warfield Park, where my brother and his wife live, were begun six or seven centuries ago, and each generation since has added and refined."

"Really? I think of England as a new country compared to China."

"There is nothing as old as the Temple of Hoshan," he said experimentally.

"They say the Buddha himself built Hoshan. That's just a legend, of course, for he was of India, not China, but the temple is surely very ancient."

"Have you been there?"

"My master, Chenqua, has. In his study hangs a scroll with pictures of the temple."

Since Kyle's inquiries about official travel into China had been futile, perhaps it was time to see if he could arrange an unofficial journey. "I've dreamed of visiting Hoshan for more than half my life. Do you know of anyone who might take me there? "

"The idea is absurd. You would be stopped if you even tried to enter Canton, much less if you traveled into the countryside."

"And Fan-qui are as conspicuous as giraffes," he said impatiently. "I've heard all that-yet surely there must be a way. Perhaps traveling in a palanquin, so no one could see my ugly face?"

She stared at him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Completely." He leaned forward. "If you gather information for the Cohong, you must know many people in low places as well as high. Surely there are men who would be willing to help me if the price is right."

She rose and began pacing around the pavilion, back and forth like a tense tiger. "It would be very dangerous. In the Settlement you are protected, but in the country, anything might happen. You would be detected very quickly no matter what your disguise, for you smell like a foreign devil."

"My smell is wrong? " Kyle was taken aback.

"Fan-qui eat too much meat. And you are too tall, and your face is impossible."