Now that it was too late, she bitterly wished she had told the truth.

Macao, China

Spring 1832

Bleakly Troth slipped unchallenged from Feng-tang and made her way across country, keeping to narrow roads and the smallest villages, sleeping rough to avoid attention. Her one ambition was not to be identified as the Fan-qui's accomplice; imprisonment would prevent her from fulfilling the charges Kyle had laid upon her.

Not daring to travel through Canton, where she might be recognized, she circled west and walked the extra eighty miles to Macao, using fatigue to numb her grief. It was a blessed relief when finally a fishing boat carried her the last stretch across the channel to the island city that was the only place in China where Europeans could live.

She felt a poignant sense of homecoming as she walked along the Praya Grande. Macao was home in a way that Canton had never been. On the streets were people of every race known to man, and mixed-blood faces that resembled her own. Her life would have been very different if she'd been taken in by a Macanese merchant rather than Chenqua after her father's death. Perhaps she'd be married and have children now.

But she never would have known Kyle, and instead of a happy marriage, she might have been forced into prostitution and an early death. Best not to question fate. She found a quiet corner and took Kyle's ring from the money belt, sliding it onto her left hand and clenching her fingers to ensure that it wouldn't slip off. Her wedding ring.

A few inquiries took her up the hill to Gavin Elliott's residence. It was close to the house she'd been born in, with a similar wide veranda and spectacular views over the city and the Pearl River. Praying that Elliott hadn't left Macao on a trading voyage, she rang the bell.

The porter who answered took one look at her ragged, filthy garments and said, "Begone, boy. We'll have no beggars here."

She caught her breath as she recognized the old man who had been her father's porter. Since he had some understanding of English and Portuguese, it wasn't surprising to find him in another European household. Taking off her tattered straw hat, she said, "That's a poor sort of greeting, old Peng."

His jaw dropped. "Miss Mei-Lian?"

"Indeed." She moved past him into the house as if she were still the young mistress. "Is the Honorable Elliott in residence? I must speak to him."

Peng bobbed his head. "Aye, you're in luck. Another two days and he'll be off to Singapore. I'll tell him you're here."

"Announce me as Jin Kang. That is how he knows me."

Peng raised his brows at the masculine name, but went off obediently. Within a minute Gavin Elliott raced down the steps three at a time. "Thank God you're back, Jin! You're weeks overdue. Where is Maxwell?"

Throat tight, Troth gestured him into the drawing room and shut the door so they had privacy. " Lord Maxwell is dead."

Elliott's face paled. "Dear God in heaven. I had a bad feeling about the trip, but I'd convinced myself I was worrying unnecessarily." He stalked to a window and stared out, his hands clenched tightly behind him. "What happened?"

Voice faltering, she described how Kyle's identity had been accidentally revealed, and his arrest and execution. Saying the words out loud for the first time made his death seem real in a way it hadn't before. This was not a bad dream she would wake from.

"At least… it was quick." Elliott muttered a blistering oath. "So bloody unnecessary! I don't think Maxwell understood how much he could be hated because of the color of his skin and the shape of his eyes."

That was true. Despite his aristocratic upbringing, Kyle had taken a rare and unbigoted pleasure in the world's diversity.

Elliott turned away from the window and regarded her with bleak eyes. "What of you, Jin? Maxwell told me that your father was a Scottish trader, Hugh Montgomery, and that you were born here in Macao. Do you still want to go to England?"

"I must. I promised Kyle to personally take the news of his death to his family."

Elliott's brows rose a little at her use of the familiar name. In a burst of defiance, she untied her queue and shook her hair loose the way her husband had liked it. "Kyle said you hadn't known Hugh Montgomery left a son. That's because he didn't. My father left only a weak, worthless daughter named Troth."

"Sweet Jesus." Elliott stared at her. "All of these years, you were disguised as a man? Unbelievable-and yet now that I look at you, I wonder why I was ever fooled."

"People see what they expect to see." Except those like Kyle, who looked closer. "I was of no use to Chenqua as a female, so Troth Montgomery vanished."

"Just as today, Jin Kang vanishes."

She relaxed a little, grateful for how quickly he'd grasped the dilemma that had ruled her life for so many years. "There's more, Mr. Elliott."

She raised her left hand to reveal the Celtic ring. "Kyle married me in prison the day before he died. I thought he was mad, but he said that a mutual pledge was all that was required in Scotland. I don't know if it was legal, but it was what he wanted."

"And what you wanted also, I think?" Elliott said gently.

His perception crumbled the willpower that had held her together in the weeks since Kyle's death. She began to cry, great, agonized tears that racked her body. She spun away, humiliated at her complete loss of control, but unable to check her wrenching sobs.

Warm arms encircled her as if she were a child. "You've had a damnable time of it, lass," Elliott murmured. "But you're safe now."

Strange how much differently he treated her now that he knew she was a woman and half-Scottish. Though he'd always been courteous and respectful of Jin Kang, to Troth Montgomery he gave the kindness of a big brother. She burrowed into his arms, crying for the loss of a rich, vital life that had so much to offer the world. For the loss of the man she'd loved, and had hardly begun to know.

When her tears finally ran out and she drew away, she saw that Elliott's eyes were damp. He'd lost not only a partner, but a friend.

Turning practical, he said, "I'll order refreshments-you look as if you haven't eaten for a week. Tea, or something stronger? "

"Tea. And any kind of food." Wearily she sank into a deep chair as he rang for a servant and ordered a quick meal for his guest.

He took the chair opposite. "Forgive me for the impertinence, but might you be carrying a child that could be Maxwell's heir?"

"No." She closed her eyes. The night she'd discovered that, she'd curled up in an anguished ball and wept until dawn. "Unfortunately."

"I'm sorry-but it makes your situation easier," he said pragmatically. "Maxwell's family is unlikely to challenge the marriage if you aren't a threat to them. Even if they do prove difficult… well, I'm willing to accept you as his heir, which means you own a quarter of Elliott House."

Her eyes snapped open. "I… I never thought of that."

"You've had more important things on your mind. Even if the Renbournes refuse to acknowledge you as Lady Maxwell, your share of Elliott House should provide you with enough income to live comfortably. More than comfortably, if I have my way."

"It…it seems too much when we were married for less than a day."

"Maxwell married you to insure your future. Don't feel that it's wrong to accept what he wanted to give." Elliott eyed her speculatively. "I'm planning on opening a London office. If you're a partner and living in England, you can have a strong voice in running it. You know things about China no Fan-qui ever will."