The dressmaker inhaled, her avid gaze going over Troth. "Oh, milady Grahame, you were right," she said with a lilting French accent. "What a pleasure this will be!"

Troth blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I told Madame Champier that you have a unique beauty, and she is anticipating the pleasure of dressing you," Meriel explained.

Troth felt heat flooding her face. "You mock me."

Meriel rose lithely from the carpeted floor. "You truly don't believe yourself beautiful, do you?" She took Troth's arm and turned her toward a mirror. "Look at yourself, not as a woman who is neither Chinese nor Scottish, but as you are. Your graceful figure, your eyes, your beautiful bones. Even in the plainest of garments you are lovely. Dressed well at the Christmas ball, you will make men stop in their tracks and youths wilt over their poetry."

Troth stared at the mirror, trying to imagine such a wild fantasy. True, her skin was good, her hair thick, and the auburn highlights did not seem odd in England. But she still looked strange, neither Oriental nor European. Of course, Kyle had claimed to admire her appearance. Perhaps the English simply liked eccentric-looking women.

"If you say so," she said doubtfully.

Meriel sighed, but made no further attempts to persuade Troth. Instead, she and Madame Champier began discussing what fabrics and styles would best suit her.

Troth endured the consultations and measuring patiently. What was the English expression-trying to make a silk purse from a pig's ear? But Meriel was obviously enjoying herself, decorating her sister-in-law in the same spirit with which she created lavish arrangements with flowers from the glass houses. Troth owed her the amusement, for Meriel had been kindness personified.

Half a world from her birthplace, she was finally Troth Montgomery, a female and a member of the Renbourne family. She had not felt such a sense of belonging since her father died. It would be hard to leave. Dominic and Meriel had said she could spend the rest of her life at Warfield if she chose, but of course she could not accept their offer. Unlike Meriel's two sweet old aunts, who lived in the dower house and were part of the family, Troth was not blood kin, and she didn't want to wear out her welcome.

Besides, she must go to Scotland. She'd stay at Warfield through the winter, then travel north. Not to find her father's relatives-she doubted they would receive her as kindly as Dominic and Meriel had. But she must see her father's homeland-the compulsion was as strong as Kyle's desire to visit Hoshan. Perhaps she would look for a cottage that could become her home.

She had so much freedom now. She just hadn't realized how lonely freedom could be.

Canton, China

Spring 1832

The back of Troth's neck prickled as she and her "grandfather" walked through the Dragon Gate into the city of Canton. Though she hadn't said as much to Maxwell, she thought of their passage through the city as a test. She would cancel the journey if his appearance attracted potentially dangerous attention.

If he was discovered in Canton it would be a scandal, but a minor one. The viceroy would express outrage, Chenqua would have to kowtow and apologize, a fine would be paid-but no real damage would be done. Fan-qui traders often chafed at the Eight Regulations, and Maxwell's transgression would be considered a childish prank. Being found in the countryside could not be passed off as a prank, and the consequences would be far more severe.

Still, they were off to a good start. She'd worried that Maxwell might not be serious enough about his disguise, so she was pleasantly surprised at how well he performed as a feeble old man. His slumped shoulders made his height less noticeable, and he kept his head down, though she was sure that behind the layer of gauze his eyes were eagerly scanning the teeming, noisy streets. The less that was visible of his face the better. Even with the bandages, a careful observer might realize that his covered nose was too large, his chin and mouth wrong for a Han Chinese.

His mouth…

Heat washed through her at the memory of his kiss. What a devil he was, to stir her senses so casually! Yet he had not been unaffected himself. She took comfort in that.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, as she had done regularly since they left the hong. Luckily, anyone who noticed would think her merely concerned for her aged companion. She was pleased to see that the swirling crowds were respectful of his gray hair, with people swinging wide to avoid jostling him. Though reverence for age was a foundation of Chinese society, she hadn't fully appreciated how his disguise would spare him from being constantly buffeted by strangers.

Knowing that Maxwell wanted to see as much of Canton as possible, Troth chose a route that took them by a number of the city's most interesting structures. Many were too filled with people to make exploration wise, but when they passed the Examination Hall, she paid the porter a few coins so they could go inside.

She led him into a long, narrow lane flanked by hundreds of tiny brick cells. When she was sure no one was within earshot, she said, "This is where scholars take the exams in literature and philosophy so they might qualify for the Civil Service."

Maxwell straightened and walked into one of the cubicles. "Are these cells for those who fail? They look as if they're meant for punishment."

"No, these rooms are where the exams are taken. Candidates must spend two days and nights inside as they write their essays. They are watched from that tower."

"How many examination cells are there?"

"About twelve thousand, I think."

He gave a soft, un-Chinese whistle. "Twelve thousand poor, suffering students, desperate to prove they've learned enough to qualify for a government job. No wonder the atmosphere is so oppressive. The bricks must be saturated with the misery of young men who know that their entire futures depend on how well they do."

"Suicide is not uncommon among students preparing for the exam, or those who fail." Though her male identity had given her the freedom to roam the city, she'd visited the Examination Hall only once years earlier, when she hadn't fully appreciated the significance. "It's rather… frightening, isn't it? Yet grand at the same time."

"Grand?"

"In a way, this hall represents the very heart of China. For two thousand years this nation has been civilized, creating poetry and philosophy and planting gardens." She felt a piercing sense of loss. "Periodically conquerors swept in from the barbarian north-west and declared themselves the rulers, but always they adopted Chinese ways.

"Our system of government goes all the way back to Confucius, who believed that the wisdom and temperance of scholars would provide a just and virtuous state. Every government official at every level has proved himself knowledgeable in the classics of our literature and philosophy. Is there another nation on earth that can say as much? "

"None that I've heard of. Two thousand years ago, the inhabitants of Britain were wearing blue paint and Jesus had yet to be born," he agreed. "But the stability of the Confucian system has also created stagnation and rigidity, along with far too many petty rules and even pettier officials."

"True, yet there is great good in allowing any peasant boy with ability to take the exams. If he does well he can end up a provincial governor or imperial censor. Sometimes a village will band together and sponsor a local candidate, hiring tutors to prepare him in hopes he will bring honor to the village."