The Bartered Bride (24 page)

"Yes. With luck, he'll pick it up painlessly. If he goes to the East, it will come in handy." Troth hesitated, then said, "I also want my children to have some sense of Chinese culture."

"Of course. It would be a sad loss if they were raised in ignorance of such an important part of their heritage."

"I'm glad you understand. Not everyone does." Troth made a rueful face. "Particularly not the elderly Renbourne cousins and aunts. But they've become used to my ways. The old earl ordered them to accept me or else, and they didn't dare find out what 'or else' meant." Alex laughed. "I'm sure you're bringing strong new blood into the Renbourne line, and about time. Many of these old families have been marrying each other for too many generations. My uncle was pleased to learn I'd married a Yankee, and disappointed when he found out Gavin is British by birth."

"Ah, but you can do no better than Gavin Elliott for a husband." Troth's smile was mischievous. "Shall we take tea in the conservatory while I tell you more about him? Though you may be disappointed. I worked for him as a translator on and off for years, and never saw a single example of wickedness or dishonesty."

"I'd be surprised if you had." They stepped into the conservatory, and Alex gasped. "How beautiful this is! Like a tropical garden."

"It was Kyle's gift to me when Dominic was born." Troth bent her head to inhale the perfume of a gorgeous pink-and-white lily. "We have a larger conservatory at Domleigh, the Renbourne family seat, but this is special because one needs the beauty so much more in London. My sister-in-law is a great gardener, so we designed the conservatory together. Meriel can make anything grow." Alex wandered down the curving path, touching flowers and leaves in wonder. Scattered among the greenery were small statues, both Chinese and European, and a fountain sang gently nearby. "What a wonderful piece of the East to find in London." And also a gift of love from a husband who truly understood his wife. The conservatory was a living testament to how people could build a bridge between very different worlds.

The path ended in a sizable area that was floored with warm Spanish tile. A small table and several chairs were set there so one could enjoy both the conservatory and the conventional garden on the other side of the glass. "Do you take meals here often?"

"Whenever Kyle and I dine alone together." Troth bent to scratch the head of a tabby cat that emerged from under a low palm to lie around her ankles. "Since you've lived in the East, you know how buildings blend indoors and outdoors. Kyle and I both liked that, so we've created a cold-climate version."

A footman appeared with a tea tray and left it on the table. Troth poured for them both as the cat tucked its paws and watched with sleepy interest. "Is Suryo Indarto still with your husband?"

"Yes, he's in London now."

"Excellent. I hope to see Tuan Suryo soon. We often worked gether at Elliott House. When business was slow, I taught him Chinese. In return he taught me Malay and pentjak silat." Alex put down her tea cup in amazement. "You know Indies fighting? "

"A little. I'm surprised you know what it is."

"I've seen Gavin use pentjak silat. He's very, very good."

"Tuan Suryo must have taught him." Troth took a sip of tea. "I learned some moves and holds frorn Tuan Suryo, but I'm not an expert. My principal training is in wing chun, one of many forms of Chinese fighting. They say wing chun was developed by Buddhist's and it is particularly well suited to females."

"A fighting art specially for women?" Alex leaned forward gerly. "Can you teach me? Please?"

"You wish to learn? " The other woman looked startled. "It takes years of training. I began studying wing chun as a child and have practiced my whole life. It would take a very long time for you to matser."

"I understand that I would never be an adept, but can you teh me basic skills of self defense? A woman needs to be able to protect herself." Hearing the vehemence in her voice, Alex said more quietly,

"I don't ever want to be helpless again."

"I see."

Troth's shrewd gaze saw far more than Alex had said, but the thought was not distressing. There had been an immediate sense of connection between them that was creating more honesty than was usual with new acquaintances. Was it because Alex had seen some of the world Troth had grown up in?

Whatever the reason, she was glad.

"Eastern fighting arts are as much a matter of mind as body," the other woman said pensively. "They require thought, discipline, and reflection. Basic moves can be taught. The problem is that few women have the minds of warriors. One must have the will to fight as well as the knowledge." Alex thought of her vain, furious struggles in slavery. "I can and will fight. What I want is to know how to fight well."

Troth's mouth curved into a smile. "I warn you, even simple lessons can create many bruises."

"No matter. Can you give me a demonstration?"

"Now? We are not dressed for sparring." She indicated her stylish, full-sleeved gown disparagingly.

"A tunic and loose trousers are best."

"Perhaps a very, very small lesson?" Alex wasn't sure herself why this was so important to her, only that she desperately wanted to learn. "If I ever need to defend myself, I'll probably be dressed much as I am now."

"True. Very well, if you wish it, and don't mind a hard floor." Troth stood and pushed the table and chairs to one side of the tiled space. As soon as her chair was relocated, the cat jumped into it, curling up to absorb the warmth left by her mistress.

Troth moved to the center of the open space and took a relaxed, balanced posture on the balls of her feet. "Attack me."

Feeling suddenly absurd, Alex moved forward to throw an uneasy fist at the other woman's shoulder. Troth caught her wrist effortlessly, twisting it just enough to make further advance painful. "Remember what I said about women not knowing how to fight? Try again as if you mean it."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. But remember that to be a warrior, you must want to do harm. Think of me as the worst enemy you ever had. Someone you hate."

Alex stepped back and stared at Troth while imagining Bhudy's vicious cruelty. The bastard. She stepped forward and swung her right fist hard at her target's jaw.

She was preparing to follow up with her left fist when she found herself on the floor. Troth had caught her with a firm, inexorable grip, tilting Alex off balance and forcing her down to the tile. For a slender woman, she was remarkably strong.

"Better." Troth offered her hand to help her opponent rise. "But are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes!" Alex bounced to her feet, excitement buzzing through her. "I appreciate that you were careful with me, but you needn't worry that I'll break. Can you show me how you did that?" Troth gave a long, slow smile. "I think, Alexandra, that we will have a most unusual friendship."

"I do hope so. Now ... where did you place your hands?" Alex didn't care how many bruises she acquired. What mattered was to be strong.

Never to be a victim again.

"The Earl's Blend tea is selling like a bonfire. It is going to make us very rich." Wrexham accompanied his comment with a sheet summarizing the last six months of income and expenses. "Or rather, even richer than we are already."

Gavin whistled at the figures. "Inventing that blend was the best day's work you ever did for Elliott House, Maxwell." He caught himself and shook his head in irritation. "Sorry, I'll get that right eventually. I keep thinking of Wrexham as your father."

"Perhaps you should call me Kyle-that name hasn't changed."

"Thank you. It might be easier to remember." Knowing how formal Englishmen were about using first names, Gavin felt honored. Setting aside the financial statement, he asked, "Is Barton Pierce in London?"

"He is indeed, and making quite a splash in the City. He found a beautiful blond widow in his travels, managed to buy a knighthood, and now Sir Barton and Lady Pierce are gaining a reputation for lavish entertainments. He's going to stand for Parliament. They say he's bribing some lord to put him in a safe seat, so at the next election he should become a Member of Parliament."

"Pierce an MP? Talking about setting a wolf to guard the sheep!" Kyle poured them both more port. "According to my sources, Pierce's fortunes have suffered badly since the East India Company lost its trading monopoly in China. He's not bankrupt, but he's on thin ice."

"Interesting." Gavin sipped at his port. "Then justice should be easy to administer."

"I won't ask you not to extract your pound of flesh-Pierce behaved despicably, and deserves to have his sins catch up with him." Kyle frowned. "But do be careful. He's a chancy devil."

"I won't do anything drastic. At most, I'll give his shaky kingdom a push to encourage it to collapse of its own accord." Not wanting to discuss the subject further, Gavin stood. "Shall we see what mischief our wives are creating?"

"I'm almost afraid to find out." Kyle finished his port and got to his feet. "It's amusing, and somehow right, that you managed to find Alexandra Melbourne halfway around the world. She was different from the other young ladies of the Marriage Mart. More alive. More interested in the world. And of course, a real stunner."

Gavin grinned. "I've noticed."

The butler sent them to the conservatory to find their wives. As they wound their way through the leafy jungle, they heard Troth say, "No, not like that, like this. Use your opponent's strength against him."

"Ah, I see what you mean," Alex replied breathlessly. "Like this." Gavin and Kyle emerged into an open area in time to see Alex throw her hostess to the ground. Troth rolled effortlessly and sprang back to her feet in a flurry of skirts. "Well done, Alex! You have good instincts." Gavin stared. "Good God. I must have drunk more port than I realized."

"The port is blameless." Kyle seemed remarkably calm about discovering his wife and a guest in unarmed combat. "Troth, my love, are you damaging our guest?" Laughing, both women turned to the newcomers, disheveled and looking like mischievous schoolgirls.

"The fault is mine," Alex said. "Once I learned that Troth knows an Eastern fighting art, I asked for lessons. I hope she'll give me more."

"It will be my pleasure." Troth smoothed down her rumpled skirts.

"I like the idea of having a female student. I learned wing chun from my old nurse, and it is only right that I pass the skills on to another woman."

"I trust that in the future you'll have your lessons in the studio with the mats?" Kyle picked a crushed blossom from the tiled floor. "It's safer for you both, not to mention easier on the conservatory plants."

"We forgot ourselves." Troth grinned, unabashed. "I will plan a more organized path of study, and we will exercise suitable care. But this was fun."

Even though he knew that wing chun was more of a sparring art, not designed for pure lethalness like pentjak silat, it made Gavin nervous to think of his wife studying a warrior skill. But Alex looked so alive and happy as she hastily straightened her gown and hair. This was the way she was meant to be. If it took the risk of broken bones and worse for her to find her way back to happiness, so be it. The next morning, the females living in Ashburton House left en masse for the planned visit to a dressmaker's salon, to be followed by stops at sundry other shops. While the principal business of the day was to order new clothing for Alex and Katie, Gavin presumed that Catherine and the duchess and their daughters would not come home empty-handed.

As Gavin was about to leave to spend the day organizing his new office, Ashburton called him into his study. "Since you'll be looking for a house, you might want to consider this one." He jotted down an address, and handed it over with a key. "It's a place I own not far from here. A decent address, and quite a pleasant property. The previous tenants had to leave London before the end of the Season, so it's empty now. If you're interested, take a look."

"Thank you, sir." Gavin pocketed the address and the key. "I'll stop by this afternoon." Sight unseen, he guessed that the house was of a quality that would be hard to find without this kind of family connection. He wasn't sure whether he felt grateful or overwhelmed. Some of both, but more grateful, he decided. He'd be glad to have a roof of his own over his head, even if it was owned by Alex's uncle. Leaving the house, he traveled from the fashionable West End to the hardworking East End. The offices Kyle had leased in a dockland warehouse were well situated above a huge storage area, and had a fine view over the forest of masts in the basin.

After approving the offices, he went aboard the Helena. Benjamin Long was capably managing the dual tasks of ship repair from the pirate attack and unloading the Helena's cargo. Suryo had already packed Gavin's personal belongings for the move ashore. He planned to stay on the ship until it left, then move either to Ashburton House or whatever new house was found.

Since his presence was unneeded, Gavin summoned a cab to take him to Ashburton's rental house. The back of his neck prickled when he saw that it was on Berkeley Square-the same location as his grandfather's home. Coincidence, or a sign? Was today a good day to make the family visit he'd planned for twenty years?

He debated the question during the long ride across London in heavy traffic. Still undecided, he dismissed the driver when he reached Berkeley Square. He'd walk back to Ashburton House from here. The duke's house was spacious and well kept, and would do nicely if Alex liked it. Looking out a window, his gaze was drawn to his grandfather's house on the opposite side. Probably, the old devil had daily looked over the square's central garden. When he saw the statue of a hero on a horse, had he ever thought of the naval son he'd disowned, the grandson he'd never met, the daughter-in-law he'd scorned?

Or had he long since dismissed them from his mind as unworthy of his attention?

Decision made, Gavin locked the duke's house and crossed the square. Seabourne House was substantial, its bland faqade reeking of money and influence. As he climbed the steps, he told himself he was a fool to call without warning. His grandfather might not be in London, or if he was, he was probably out terrorizing servants at some club. He might even be dead, though he'd been hale enough a year earlier, the last time Gavin had received information. Even if by some wildly unlikely chance he was at home, he was unlikely to receive an unannounced stranger.