She tucked the ring into a small empty pocket of the money belt so that it wouldn't be scratched, then tied the belt under her tunic. "What is it like to be able to buy whatever you want? "

He remembered how useless his fortune had been to restore Constancia's health. "Money can't buy miracles, but it does give freedom and power. I periodically stop to give thanks that I've never had to worry about something that is a crushing concern of half the people in the world."

She touched the hard bulge of the money belt under her tunic. "Freedom and power. I've had little enough of either."

She was a brave woman. Would he have the courage to walk away from the only life he'd known? "For better and worse, your future will be different from your past."

"I hope so." She slung a knapsack over her shoulder. "Ready, Grandfather? Until we get to the stable where we'll pick up the donkey, rest one hand on my shoulder, shuffle along with your shoulders bent, and don't speak. No one will ever suspect that you're a foreign devil."

He grinned. "Lay on, Macduff. Or rather, lay on, Montgomery."

She gave a swift smile. "We'll have no quotes from the Scottish play, Grandfather. It would be bad luck."

She looked so enchanting that he raised her chin with one finger. "Then we should have a kiss to improve our luck."

He meant the kiss to be light, but as soon as their lips met desire crackled between them. She made a choked sound and drew closer, her lithe frame touching him from chest to thighs. His obscured vision increased his awareness of how soft her mouth was, how erotic the small movements of her body against his.

He was equally conscious of her uncertainty-had she ever been kissed before? Probably not-and her yearning. So sweet, so welcoming…

Hell. Wanting to kiss her senseless was the wrong way to start. Breathing quickened, he stepped back. "An auspicious beginning to our journey."

Slowly she raised her fingers to her lips, her eyes almost black as she stared at him. Then she gave a small shake of her head. " Bats would be more auspicious, Grandfather. Or cranes."

When she turned toward the door, he set his right hand on her left shoulder and followed. With the cords digging into the soles of his feet, it was easy to shuffle like an old man with bad joints and no vision. It gave him more sympathy for his father, afflicted with gout and weak eyes.

They left the hong by the back gate. Moving at a pace suitable for an infirm old man, Troth led them to a street that ran from the Settlement to the city gate a few hundred yards away. All such roads were guarded and blocked with wickets every night so no Fan-qui could enter Canton.

They reached this one just as the guard was moving the wicket aside to open the street for the day's traffic. The guard greeted Troth casually, waving them past with only a bored glance at Kyle.

The door into China had just opened.

England

December 1832

"You don't ride?" Dominic asked with surprise as he turned from a stall containing a magnificent dark bay horse.

Troth dropped her eyes, feeling as if she'd committed a faux pas. "I'm sorry, no. Only a donkey now and then. I lived in cities, you see."

"Regrettable, but not incurable. That is, if you'd like to learn riding?" The last was an afterthought, uttered as if he couldn't imagine that anyone wouldn't want to ride.

"I should like to try it." Nonetheless, Troth eyed the bay doubtfully. It was very large, and had a challenging gleam in its eyes.

"Don't worry, I won't put you on Pegasus. He's a handful even for me." Dominic stroked the horse's handsome nose, his expression suddenly bleak. "He was my brother's horse, you know. Kyle gave him to me the day before he left England."

Troth had a swift mental image of Kyle galloping across the hills on the horse, his dark brown hair blowing in the wind. The pair of them would have been a magnificent sight. She swallowed hard. She and Kyle had had so little time…

Dominic touched her elbow, guiding her down the row of stalls until they reached a placid chestnut. "Cinnamon will do nicely for learning. Here, give her this." He placed a chunk of carrot on Troth's palm.

She nervously offered it to the chestnut, thinking that the beast could probably take her fingers off if so inclined. Horses might eat grass, but those teeth were large. Cinnamon took the carrot with the daintiness of a fine lady, her soft lips lightly tickling Troth's palm. Charmed, she stroked the horse's nose and received a friendly nuzzle in the ribs. "I think Cinnamon and I shall do well together."

"I'm sure you will." Dominic smiled, but his eyes held the haunted sadness that had been there since he'd learned of his twin's death. He treated her with great gentleness, as if her relationship with his brother entitled her to special care. "Isn't the dressmaker coming today? Have a riding habit made up so we can get you started."

She made a face. "Madame Champier must be here by now. I'd better return to the house, or Meriel will be cross with me."

"Only a fool would risk her displeasure," he said gravely, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. Though he and his wife behaved with propriety in public, it was easy to see the powerful bond between them. Six years they'd been married, yet each still lit up like a candle when the other entered the room.

Troth thought wistfully of their marriage as she walked back to the house. Might she and Kyle have ever achieved such closeness? She doubted it, for his heart had been given elsewhere. But it made a sweet, melancholy dream.

The day was cold, with a stiff wind chasing clouds so sun and shadow changed continually. One of the first things Meriel had done was find a heavy cloak for her new sister-in-law. Properly garbed, Troth found the wintry conditions much less uncomfortable than on her original journey from London to Shropshire.

During her fortnight at Warfield Park, Troth had been accepted seamlessly into the household. The children, Philip and Gwyneth, rushed up to her when she entered the house. "Tarts!" Gwynne said excitedly.

"We're going to the kitchen to help with the Christmas baking," her older brother explained. "Would you like to come with us?"

"I'm sure that Lady Maxwell has other things to do." Their nurse, Anna, came forward and took the children's hands.

Troth brushed her fingers over Gwynne's white-blond hair. "I'm afraid that's so, but perhaps another time? I'm sure the baking will continue for days."

Gwynne left with a melting glance over her shoulder as Anna led them off to the kitchen. Five and three, the children had blithely adopted Troth as an aunt from the beginning, though there had been an awkward moment at their first introduction when Gwynne had asked why Aunt Troth had strange eyes. While Anna blanched at her charge's rudeness, Meriel had calmly said that Troth came from a part of the world where her eyes were normal, and Gwynne's would look very strange. The child had accepted that with perfect composure, and they'd become fast friends.

Troth would have enjoyed the preparations for Christmas, if the holidays hadn't meant that she would soon meet the other members of the Renbourne family. Though Dominic and Meriel had accepted her as if half-Chinese widows of dubious background were normal, Troth feared that others, especially the formidable Earl of Wrexham, would be less welcoming.

She reached Meriel's sitting room to find her sister-in-law cross-legged in the middle of the floor, surrounded by bolts of fabric and trimmings as she chatted with the dressmaker. Delighted by the countess's informality, Troth said, "I'm sorry I'm late."