England

December 1832

Troth's trunk of personal belongings arrived at Warfield Park two days before her hosts' annual Christmas ball. She'd thought the trunk must have been lost, but apparently it had just come on a slower ship than hers.

After the departure of the footmen who'd delivered the trunk, she knelt and unlocked it. Inside were mementos of her Chinese life, just as she'd packed them in the Elliott hong. Sadly she took out the embroidered scarlet gown that Kyle had given her. She had been so excited and pleased at his generosity. She set the folded gown aside, regretting that she'd never had the chance to wear it for him.

She rummaged through her possessions and retrieved the dozen of her father's books that she'd managed to keep after his death. She found comfort in lining them up on the shelf usually occupied by volumes borrowed from the Warfield library. Belongings helped define who one was.

A knock signaled the arrival of Meriel and her maid. "Time to prepare you for the ball," the countess announced. "The seamstresses worked all night to finish your gown."

Troth admitted them, bracing herself to be buffed and polished. She would have preferred to hide in her room and read during the ball, but couldn't. Though no one had said so in as many words, the ball was being used by the Renbournes to make a public statement that they had accepted her as a member of the family.

While Meriel curled up in a chair, the maid set to work on Troth's hair in a style ironically known as à la Chinoise , which meant brushing the hair back into a braided chignon, with delicate curls at brow and temples. Though the style wasn't very Chinese, with flowers from Meriel's conservatory woven into the chignon, the effect was pretty.

Next came the undergarments, including the padded stays necessary under an evening gown. Troth endured the tightening of the laces stoically. Europeans condemned Chinese foot binding, but any society that had invented the corset had a lot to answer for.

Last of all, the evening gown was dropped over her head and the ties pulled to mold it to Troth's figure. Much discussion had gone into choosing the fabric.

Mrs. Marks, one of Meriel's aunts-except that it turned out she was not an aunt, but some sort of cousin-had explained the rules of mourning to Troth. The death of a spouse required twelve months of sober clothing and behavior. Unlike China, where white was the color of mourning, here garments of dull black must be worn for six months, and the mourner should avoid social activities. After that came "second mourning," which could include somber grays or lavenders and touches of white.

Meriel had refused to order black garments for her guest, since Chinese customs were different, but she'd agreed with Mrs. Marks that for the sake of propriety Troth's first public appearance should be in second mourning. The dressmaker had produced a beautiful figured silk in subtle shades of lavender that complemented Troth's coloring.

Having left the design in the capable hands of Meriel and the dressmaker, Troth was shocked to look into the mirror and see herself. "I can't wear this in public," she said with a gasp. "It's… it's indecent!"

Meriel frowned. "Indecent?"

Troth had become somewhat accustomed to form-fitting European dresses, though she preferred the looseness of Chinese garments. She'd also been pleased to discover that the breasts that had seemed vulgarly large in China qualified as nicely proportioned here.

But that hadn't prepared her for a fashionable evening gown. She stared at the vast expanse of bare flesh, dismayed at the way the corset conspired to make her breasts look positively enormous. "This fits like a second skin and it has no top!"

"Because you're in mourning, it's actually cut rather high, as ball gowns go." Meriel tilted her head to one side pensively. "Chinese clothing is very different?"

"A woman's body should not be exposed to the eyes of any man but her husband. Even the throat should be covered. Female garments have high collars for that reason."

"Can you bear to wear the gown?" the countess said gently. "You look very fine."

Troth took a deep breath-which made the neckline even more alarming-and tried to see herself objectively, without embarrassment. The gown was beautifully cut and fitted, and it made her look almost English, except for her eyes.

She wanted desperately to look English. "I… I can bear it, if that is your wish."

"What matters is your wish."

Troth bit her lip. Though all of the adult Renbournes she'd met encouraged her to state her preferences, she still slid automatically into deference. But she was an English lady now, a viscountess, and entitled to have opinions of her own. "I… I wish to wear this gown because Kyle would have wanted me to look my best for his friends and family."

"Very good." Meriel opened a velvet-covered jewelry box and took out a magnificent necklace made of five strands of seed pearls joined by a series of gold plaques set with amethysts. "This might help with the neckline."

"How lovely." Troth touched the silky pearls with her fingertips. "Such splendid jewelry is allowed during mourning? "

Meriel shrugged. "We have bent other rules."

"Then thank you for lending this to me."

Meriel fastened the wide necklace around Troth's neck. "The necklace and matching earrings are yours, a gift from Lord Wrexham."

"From the earl? Why is he so generous when he scarcely knows me and would never have approved of my marriage?"

Meriel sighed. "It's a kind of mourning for him, I think. He can do nothing for Kyle, so he wished to do something for you."

Troth should have guessed that herself. Carefully she removed the gold studs from her ears and put in the swinging pearl-and-amethyst earrings.

Having her ears pierced had been enormously exciting. Earrings were one of the female things she'd craved most, but of course Jin Kang couldn't wear them. She didn't care that the new earrings would hurt because they were heavy and her ears were not fully healed. Tonight she was unmistakably a woman.

"There is another gift as well." Meriel handed Troth a heavy bangle-style bracelet, a hoop made from sinuous lines of gold.

Troth's gaze dropped to Kyle's ring, which had been cut down so she could wear it on her left hand. "This is the same design as my… my wedding ring."

"They're of traditional Celtic knotwork. Both ring and bracelet came from the family of Dominic and Kyle's Scottish mother."

Troth stroked the intricate, twining pattern. "Surely this belongs to you."

"Family jewelry is not owned but held in trust. Kyle would have liked you to have the bracelet, I think."

Tears stung Troth's eyes. "You are all so kind."

"You have enriched our lives, Troth." Meriel gestured to the maid. "I must dress now. I shall collect you when it is time to make an entrance."

The countess returned after a surprisingly short interval, looking stunning in a jade green gown that intensified the pale green of her eyes and made her hair shine like moonlight. Beside her was Dominic, who said, "You look quite amazingly beautiful, Troth. My brother always had excellent taste."

With a smile he offered his left arm. With Meriel on his right, he escorted his two ladies down the broad staircase and into the ballroom. In his dark evening clothes he was strikingly handsome, and achingly like his twin.

By this time Troth had seen enough of Dominic so that she would never confuse him with Kyle, but it was impossible not to imagine what it would have been like if she'd been entering her first ball on her husband's arm. When he looked at her, there wouldn't have been the pain that showed deep in Dominic's eyes. Instead, Kyle would have regarded her with a lover's intimacy and private promises.