Chapter 32

Kyle had been doing his best to ignore his father's words, but he snapped into full awareness when the earl went too far. Kyle clenched his hands against a desire to commit physical violence against his own father. "Troth's honor and virtue are irreproachable, and I will not allow her to be insulted by you or any man. Do I make myself clear?"

Wrexham's jaw dropped. "How dare you speak to your father that way!"

"The duty a man owes his wife takes precedence over that which he owes his father," Kyle said flatly. "You act as if Troth isn't good enough for me. In fact, the reverse is true. I'm not good enough for her."

The earl made an exasperated gesture. "If you insist, she's pure as the driven snow and a credit to her sex. But she's still no wife."

"If you will not accept her as my wife, then I am not your son! Feel free to disinherit me."

Wrexham's face turned an unhealthy shade of red. "You know perfectly well I can't do that! The title and almost all of the property are entailed to you. Everything passes from eldest son to eldest son-that's the way it should be."

Kyle glared. "Which means I can do any damned thing I want, and you have no recourse."

"Yes. Is it too much to hope that you'll behave with wisdom and honor? "

Kyle rose and paced angrily across the room, his temples pounding. He had avoided being alone with his father because he'd known they would have this argument, and he'd felt unable to resolve the conflict between what he owed Troth and what Wrexham thought his heir owed the family name. But the issue could be sidestepped no longer. How the devil could this fight be ended before he and his father damaged each other irrevocably?

Kyle's relationship with the earl had always been a complex blend of affection, duty, and tension. The older man had inherited an estate on the verge of financial collapse and pulled it back to prosperity with grindingly hard work. He'd become a just and innovative landowner and a conscientious member of the House of Lords. But where his family was concerned, he was fiercely protective and suffocatingly rigid.

Reminding himself of the earl's more admirable qualities, he said more quietly, "I missed you when I was away, Father. I didn't come back to resume fighting again."

Wrexham's face worked. "You never call me 'Father.' "

"Perhaps it's time I did. Your opinion matters a great deal to me, but you can no longer control my life the way you did when Dominic and I were children."

"I don't want to control your life! I just… just don't want you to make disastrous mistakes."

Kyle smiled ruefully. Though his father was a tyrant, he was a well-intentioned one. "Good judgment is a fine thing, but it's mistakes that give us an education."

His father's mouth quirked in an unwilling smile. "I know you're right, but it's hard to stand by and watch one's children ruin themselves."

"Just as in your own childhood, you had to stand by and watch your father ruin the whole Renbourne family?"

"I… I suppose so." Wrexham rubbed his chin, expression baffled. "Never thought of it that way."

During the months in Wu Chong's dungeon, Kyle had thought of many things, seen connections that had never occurred to him before. Suffering, like bad judgment, was educational. It was time he used some of the insight he'd gained to improve his relationship with his father.

"I doubt that Troth and I can build a real marriage between us, but the choice belongs to her. If she freely decides that she will be happier without me, I will bid her farewell and give her my blessing." He fought the wrenching pain produced by the thought of losing her. "If she prefers to stay as Lady Maxwell-and I can't imagine that she'd want to-I will marry her again in the Church of England so no one will ever question the legality of our union. But the choice is hers."

"Don't let your sense of obligation lead you astray, Maxwell," his father said sadly. "You'll both be better off without each other. If she's the paragon you claim, she can find a doting husband, and when you're ready, you can choose a suitable wife. One who will know what it means to be a countess."

"Why do you dislike Troth? Is it simply because she's half-Chinese? The world is changing, Father. Lord Liverpool was a quarter Indian, and he was prime minister for fifteen years. The British royal family has African blood going back through Portuguese royalty. As the empire grows, there will be more and more marriages between different peoples. Shouldn't the Renbournes be leaders?"

"I don't precisely dislike her, but I don't want Chinese blood in the family." Wrexham frowned. "More than that, the blasted chit makes me nervous. She's… too meek. Too bland. Too sly and secretive. I feel there are things going on in her mind that I'll never understand, and that makes me uneasy."

"Troth, bland?" Startled, Kyle thought back over the previous weeks. It was true that she'd been quiet to the point of invisibility, but so had he. "I suppose that's because she's on her best behavior, and in an uncertain situation. But I assure you, she is neither bland nor secretive. She is unique, and it is her background that makes her so special."

After a long silence, his father said, "You really care for her."

"Yes." An understatement, but he wasn't about to admit to the deep, complicated feelings she aroused. "Fate brought Troth and I together. If she leaves me, so be it, but if you are hoping for grandchildren from me, they will be with Troth, or no one." He smiled without humor. "You'd better pray that she leaves me."

His father rose heavily. "I will pray that you find contentment. Though maybe that's too much to ask."

Kyle stared at the door into the hall after it closed on Wrexham. Just like the old boy to end an argument by saying something insightful. Had he always realized how restless his heir was?

Kyle sat in the study for a long time, thinking about his life. He'd been in a black swamp ever since his imprisonment, haunted by nightmares and paralyzed by indecision. He must pull himself together for the sake of his family.

And for Troth, of course, who had been endlessly patient and undemanding. He needed to summon the strength and resolution to set her free rather than let his silence keep her trapped at Dornleigh. He would miss her as a soldier missed a severed limb, but he had no right to cage her here when he couldn't offer the whole heart she deserved.

He opened his eyes and noticed that it was a perfect spring day. Maybe he and Troth could go for a ride. Dominic had said that she'd become quite competent on horseback, and maybe riding would make it easier to talk.

The thought of riding made him wonder what had happened to the donkey, Sheng. He'd become rather attached to the beast despite its bony spine.

Feeling a tingle of anticipation, he rang for the butler. When Hawking appeared, he asked, "Do you know where Lady Maxwell is? I thought she might be interested in going for a ride."

Hawking's brows rose. "Her ladyship didn't find you? She had the same thought and was looking for you here earlier."

"Really? I haven't seen her this morning." A horrifying thought occurred to Kyle. If she'd sought him in the study, she might have approached during his argument with Wrexham. If she'd overheard some of the things that had been said…

Alarmed, he swiftly ascended to Troth's room, hoping he wouldn't find her there weeping. The knowledge that Kyle's father despised her mixed blood would be crushing.

When he knocked on her door, there was no response. After a second knock went unanswered, he cautiously turned the knob.