'Then Chenqua rescued you?'
'Yes, though it took time. At first there was no rush because I was presumed dead, so the viceroy and his bureaucrats moved slowly. As soon as Chenqua learned I hadn't been executed, he sent his oldest son and his personal physician to Feng-tang along with a company of Bannermen in case Wu Chong proved difficult.' Kyle smiled humorlessly. 'Apparently the prefect was all bland cooperation. But of course they could take the foreign devil. He'd written to Peking for instructions-sending his letter by donkey cart, I suspect-but if the viceroy was willing to take responsibility for the prisoner, Wu was delighted to oblige. Not that I learned any of this until much later.'
'What about Chenqua?'
'He scolded me as if I were a misbehaving schoolboy and refused to let me reimburse him for the fine he'd paid on my behalf.'
'Was he angry about what I'd done?' Troth's elegant face was still as marble.
'He said he'd miss your kung fu.' Knowing how important this must be to her, he said slowly, 'I felt that he was very sorry to lose you, and not only because you were useful to him. Not angry at all. Just… sorry, and wishing you well.'
Her expression eased. 'I'm glad.'
'Did you have any problems after you left Feng-tang?'
'None. Gavin Elliott was wonderful, and your whole family has been very kind, even the old dragon, your father.'
'The old dragon-what a good name for him. He might be arriving at any moment, by the way. As soon as I reached England, I sent messages to him and my sister.' He should have gone to Dornleigh first, but he'd never considered doing that. The lifelong bond between him and his brother was stronger than his often strained relationship with the earl. Stronger even than duty.
Troth hid her face against his shoulder. 'What happens now? '
'Damned if I know. What made perfect sense in a Chinese dungeon seems rather mad here in England.' He stared sightlessly at the ceiling. 'The question is how to set you free without creating a scandal in the process.'
She became utterly still. 'You wish to end the marriage, such as it is?'
The question wasn't about his wishes, but about what was right. Choosing his words carefully, he said, 'You have a whole world of possibilities in front of you, while I… well, I'd never intended to marry again and don't think I'd make much of a husband. You deserve better.'
'How very noble you are,' she said dryly.
He laughed a little for the first time in months. 'Not noble. Confused, but trying to do the right thing.' Giving in to temptation, he continued, 'Still, unless you're in a hurry to leave we can wait until I'm feeling stronger and you've had time to decide what you want. You must still be in shock from my miraculous return from the dead.'
Her dark head nodded vigorously.
Lightly he touched her silky hair. 'I'm sorry. There was no point in writing, since I'd reach here about as soon as any letter.'
'That part I understand.' Her voice turned cool. 'As for the rest… I gather you don't want us to… to behave as husband and wife while you decide on the best way for us to part.'
He winced. Did she suspect his fear that if they became lovers again, he'd never have the strength to let her go? Trying to make a joke of it, he said, 'Once you see Dornleigh, you'll be eager to end the marriage. It's the most dismal great house in England.'
'But it is your home.'
'For my sins, yes.' He smiled self-mockingly. 'I must admit that I'm looking forward to returning. Seven years is a long time to be away.'
Long enough to fulfill all his dreams, leaving… nothing.
Chapter 31
Dornleigh matched its reputation. Looming against a cold, rainy sky, the sprawling structure should have ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE carved over the gate. Troth drew back from the carriage window, not sure if she was glad the miserable journey was ending, or sorry that her destination was as uninviting as Kyle had warned.
She sat opposite her husband and his father in the heavy, luxurious Wrexham traveling coach. They'd shared the space for two long days, each avoiding eye contact with the others.
The last fortnight had been tiring for all concerned. Lord Wrexham's coach had reached Warfield Park two days after the prodigal's return, within an hour of Lady Lucia's arrival. Under his usual brusque manner, the earl had been like a mother hen whose lost chick had just been restored. Kyle accepted everyone's attention with weary courtesy, though Troth suspected he would have preferred more peace and privacy.
Not that her opinions mattered. From the day he arrived and was given a room of his own, she felt less his wife than when he'd been thought dead. No one was rude, and there was no suggestion that she didn't belong at this Renbourne family reunion. But she felt… unnecessary. During the long days and longer nights, she'd reminded herself frequently that Kyle's detachment wasn't just from her.
The only person whose company he welcomed was his brother. Dominic was edgy and impatient with everyone except Kyle, and Troth had a sense that
Luckily Meriel's behavior didn't alter. She kept Troth busy with the children, with riding, with work in the glasshouses in anticipation of spring planting.
But there would be no Meriel to support her at Dornleigh. After ten days at Warfield, Kyle had been deemed well enough to return to the family seat. Wrexham was anxious to take him there, as if only then would Kyle's homecoming be complete. Or perhaps he wanted to separate Kyle from Dominic so he could have his heir to himself. Troth had the dismal feeling that she didn't figure in the earl's calculations at all.
Despite her yearning for her husband's attention, Troth practiced patience and hoped the situation would improve along with his health. She dressed and spoke and behaved like a perfect English lady, striving to earn Wrexham's approval. Occasionally she felt Kyle's puzzled gaze, as if he barely recognized her, and guessed he was surprised at how well she'd learned to mimic the manners of the well-bred female. She'd always had a gift for blending in, and her mother had taught her feminine refinement.
The coach pulled up in front of Dornleigh, and a footman rushed to open the door and lower the steps. Troth climbed out into the rain with relief. While she would have welcomed two days alone with Kyle, Wrexham's presence changed everything. No doubt the earl had felt the same about her. And Kyle? He'd probably been glad to have three people on the journey to spare him private discussions.
Waiting inside the Dornleigh entry hall-the cold, echoing, barren entry hall-was an army of servants lined up in honor of the heir's return. Kyle passed along the rows courteously while Troth waited at one side, invisible except for curious glances.
To her surprise, when Kyle had finished reviewing the Dornleigh troops, he took Troth's arm, leading her forward. 'My wife, Lady Maxwell.'
A spark of hope flared inside her at the public acknowledgment. Yet as Kyle introduced her to the senior servants, she saw that Wrexham watched with tight-lipped disapproval. As the housekeeper led her up to her new quarters, Troth renewed her vow to be patient, and to always act as an irreproachable English lady.
Beyond that, there was nothing she could do but hope and pray.
