Last, that if you marry within the year the capital will be enlarged to increase the yearly stipend to three thousand guineas for the first ten years.

On your death the capital reverts to me or my heirs.

Within three weeks of reading this, please remove yourself from Struan premises. I have advised Mr. Albert MacStruan, by letter today, to that effect, and also that, from today, your credit with Struan's is ended and that any chits given, or purportedly given, by my son and authenticated by his chop only are not to be honored--excepting those that are personally signed and dated by him, thus completely bona fide.

If, within three weeks, your affidavit is signed and ready for Dr. Hoag, then Mr.MacStruan is authorized to give you at once credit to FIVE HUNDRED guineas on account of your guaranteed trust which will be erected within thirty days, the yearly amount to be paid quarterly.

Should you decline the above conditions (you have my solemn word they are not negotiable) or I do not see Dr. Hoag by said specified date, February 12th, the next day, Friday 13th, my solicitors will file court proceedings against you to the maximum I and they feel justified, the first of which is that with malice aforethought you caused the death of my son.

A piece of advice: Mr. Skye may twist and turn and scream duress, that these are threats against your person. They are not. My solicitors advise me they are not, that this is a generous, legal way to remove a tiresome problem my son, for whatever ill-advised reasons, has caused.

Please ask Dr. Hoag to return as soon as possible with your affidavit, or nonagreement. Tess Struan, December 28th December, Year of our Lord, 1862, at Hong Kong.

Gornt looked up from the letter. "You don't accept."

"That's exactly what Mr. Skye told me." Some of Angelique's fury dissipated on the spot. She sat in her tall chair, stiff and set-faced, Gornt opposite her, and they were in her boudoir. "I'm glad you agree. I'll reply in kind to that, that woman this afternoon!"

"No, that would be wrong. I'm saying you don't fight, that's the worst you can do. You compromise."

She became ashen again, more than angry. "You say accept these... this foulness?"

"I'm just saying you can compromise in due course," he said, his mind working well and logically though his chest and throat felt tight.

"I'm sure I can get you better terms."

"Terms? Then you do say accept this in principle? Accept this? I thought you were a fighter and my friend but you'll let her get away with dragging my face in the mud?"

"I know she said it's non-negotiable, I don't believe that, I can improve it. Her first offer, two or three thousand already makes you comfortable, five and you'd be rich."

"That doesn't outweigh her vile manners, her evil threats, constant hostility and enmity!

I was married legally. Legally!" Angelique stamped her foot. "Not to be Mrs. Struan?

Not to set foot in Hong Kong, to be addressed in this way, how dare she? As though I am...

I am a felon!"

"I agree. On your behalf I'll renegotiate."

"Jesus. I want her humbled, smashed."

"So do I, but now is not the time."

"What?"

"The great Dirk Struan really did ill-use my mother's family, the Tillmans, not as bad as Morgan, but bad enough." His smile was cruel. "If I can crush Brocks, why not Struans? It's all the same to me. Revenge is a meal we can eat together leisurely, morsel by morsel."

"We can?" A sudden warmth went into her loins, he looked so confident and handsome and strong.

"How?"

"First, what did Skye say?"

"He said at once to fight and showed me papers he has prepared for filing in Hong Kong, London and Paris an--"

"Paris? Why Paris?"

She explained about "Ward of the State." "He says in Paris with Ward of France as a fact we will win, the marriage will be declared legal according to French law, and then I can settle at my whim, not hers."

"Has he mentioned fees, Angelique?"

She flushed. "That has nothing to do with his advice."

"Nonsense," he said harshly. "Our only safety is to face the truth and understand the games being played. That little bastard, 'scuse me, but I use the term advisedly, he is by the way, I found that out in Hong Kong, that little bastard is only thinking of his future, not yours, imagining himself in various courts defending this poor but beautiful French widow, swaying various juries --and losing everything for you."

"I don't see... Why?"

"Malcolm has no estate."

"But... but Mr. Skye says according to French law th--"

"Wake up, Angelique!" His voice was even harsher. It was vital to get her out of this stupid, useless rage.

The moment he had come into her boudoir and had seen her tight-lipped, seething, a letter shaking in her hand, he had realized that this was the letter Hoag had told him about, that therefore there was no child and now Plan A could be hurtled into place. His joy had crested.

Pretending to know nothing, he had begun cheery greetings but these were spurned, the letter shoved at him, her fury making her even more attractive-- the passion good for both of them, he had thought contentedly. But now it must be channeled and refined, like his. "Skye's full of wind! Wake up!"

"I am awake, he is not, and don't think for a mom--"

"Stop it! Use your head for God's sake!

It's you who's at risk, not him!" For an instant he wondered again what Tess's second letter, the other letter contained that, now, no one would ever know--Hoag had said part of the agreement with Tess was that, prior to delivering this one, he would burn the other unopened. Would Hoag really do that, or would he have read it before burning it though he had sworn a holy oath to abide exactly with her wishes?

Wish I knew, but then that's only icing on the cake.

"Angelique, dear Angelique..." He tossed the letter on the table as though it were dirty, believing it to be wonderful, got up and sat beside her and took her hand. "Paris and French law and all the rest are only for Skye's benefit, not yours. Even if he won, I'd wager ten thousand to one against, their ruling will have no bearing on Tess Struan and Hong Kong...

Listen to me," he said louder as she started to override him. "We've not much time and you have to be sensible. While you borrow or pauper yourself or sell yourself to pay his costs, let alone the fees he needs, you'll lose this one chance. He hasn't got but a few dollars. How's he going to get to Hong Kong, let alone Paris or London? That's a pipe dream." Sullenly she pulled her hand away. He laughed. "You're like a spoiled brat and I love you for it."

"You..." She stopped. "You do?"

"Love you or think you're a spoiled brat?"

With a different voice she said, "Both."

"Both," he said in a different voice and took her hand again and grinned when she tried to pull it away. This time he did not allow it. With equal, gentle firmness he pulled her closer and kissed her deeply. Her fight was immediate, soon to lessen, soon to enjoy. Both of them.

When he released her he ducked at once, correctly anticipating her nails which slashed at him. "Whoa, there," he said as though to a spirited horse, delighted he had the measure of her.

"Whoa there, Nelly!"

She laughed in spite of her anger. "You're a devil."

"Yes, but I'll make a fine husband.

Ma'am."

Her smile faded. The anger vanished. She got up and went to the window and stared out at the bay and the ships there. Lots of activity around the warships. He watched and waited, hoping that he had judged correctly. When she was ready, she said, "You say compromise, Edward. How?"

"I'd take the next, fastest boat to Hong Kong," he said. "I'll see her at once and make changes you and I agree on--and I think are possible. I'm sure I can up the stipend.