been the merest bad luck that his secretary had taken it upon herself to inform Lorna of his arrival.
The merest luck too, he supposed, that he had seen that Lydia was with the Frenchman before he’d dashed down the gangplank and seized her in his arms as he had been burning to do. A pretty kettle of fish that would have been—her with her latest suitor on her arm, and Lorna there to watch the entire debacle.
“The carriage is this way,” Lorna was saying. “Heavens, what a mob...do you see someone you know?”
Peter watched as Lydia’s carriage disappeared away from the dock. He gave his head a shake and started resolutely in the direction Lorna had indicated. “No, no one,” he said.
As they settled themselves in the brougham Lorna studied her husband for a moment. “You are looking very tired, Peter.” She put her hand on his arm.
Peter tactfully reached for his handkerchief, moving away from her touch. “I am feeling very tired,” he said, ignoring her angry frown.
“I must admit, Peter, that I am completely at a loss to understand why you did not tell me you were arriving home today. And why isn’t David with you?” She saw his expression darken, as it often did when he wanted to shut her out. “I know we aren’t exactly the ideal married couple, but David is my son and I am still your wife. You could at least have written during all the time you’ve been in China.”
Her presence, the very sound of her voice, irritated him. He twisted the handkerchief angrily. She had to be told about David and now would be as good a time as any. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “David isn’t coming home,” he said simply.
“What? What do you mean, David isn’t coming home?”
Peter let out a sigh and turned to look at her. “I’m sorry, Lorna. David is dead.”
He watched the color drain from her face. “Dead?” She stared at him as if she did not believe what he’d said.
“He was caught taking something from the palace, the penalty for which is death.” He would never tell her the horrible way David had died.
Lorna sat quite still, staring at him. Then a long, agonizing moan came from the depths of her being and she collapsed against the side of the carriage. She sat, not crying, just moaning with the terrible pain gripping her heart.
“David was trying to help me,” Peter admitted softly. He fumbled with the handkerchief in his hand, looking at it as though it were some odd object. “He knew about the financial trouble the company is in and he thought he would be able to help by taking one of the Empress’s scents, which we could then duplicate.”
Lorna suddenly stiffened, her eyes blazing. “Just as that odious Lydia Nightsong did! Damn you both to hell!” she shouted. “I’ll kill that evil woman with my bare hands. I’ll kill her, I tell you, if it is the very last thing I ever do...I swear I will.”
Peter closed his eyes, trying to let the sound of the carriage wheels drown out his wife’s voice.
Lorna seethed. “It was that horrible woman who put the idea into your head before you left to find David. I know you saw her.”
“Stop it, Lorna. Lydia had nothing to do with what happened. David wanted to help when he learned of the company’s near bankruptcy. It was his concern for you and me and the children that led him to do what he did.”
“And you said nothing to dissuade him?” she accused.
He passed his fingers across his brow. It was true, he hadn’t tried to prevent David, but then would Lorna herself have done any differently? She was too accustomed to money to ever be without it, at whatever risk. “I tried to point out the dangers, of course. There was nothing more I could do.”
Lorna turned on him. She started to argue, but a terrible sobbing poured out of her as she collapsed against him.
It made him uncomfortable, to have her in his arms like this, yet he put a consoling arm about her shoulders. The long weeks overland and at sea had taken the sharp edge off David’s death, dulling it to a gnawing ache. He suddenly thought of Lydia again. He had to see her.
“I must go to the office,” Peter told Lorna as the carriage pulled up the curved drive of their Nob Hill mansion.
She clutched his arm. “Peter, please.”
He saw the need in her eyes, the pleading, but tactfully he eased himself away. “We’re almost broke, Lorna. I’ve made some contacts on my way from China. I can’t allow them to get cold.” He felt her grip tighten. “I’ll be back as soon as I can get away, I promise.”
“Forget the company for today, Peter. While you were away I made some arrangements for money.”
“I told you I didn’t want you to go to your family,” he said sternly. “I got us into this mess and I will get us out.”
Tears filled her eyes, but her voice went hard. “You are going to her, aren’t you?”
Peter got out of the carriage, helping her down.
“You are going to Lydia,” she said again. “I can see it in your face.”
“I will be home as soon as I can.” He got back into the carriage and rode off down the drive, leaving Lorna alone, staring after him.
Lydia was alone in her office when Peter walked in. The moment he got close to her, inhaled her haunting aroma, and saw her exquisite beauty, the old weakness grew inside him, making him tremble with desire. He looked at her and found himself once more in that shabby Chinese village, rescuing a shy sixteen-year-old girl from the amorous fumblings of a young lout in a bamboo grove.
“Thank you for coming to meet the ship,” Peter said. Anger tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t expect you to invite the Frenchman as part of my welcoming committee.”
Lydia put aside the accounts she’d been studying. “Nor did I expect to have to share your homecoming with your wife.”
“That was accidental. My secretary told her.”
Lydia found herself smiling. “We should do something about our efficient secretaries. That is precisely how Raymond happened to join me on the dock.” She came around the desk. The grief of David’s death was etched on Peter’s handsome face, but she could neither think of anything to say nor know whether she should say anything at all.
“A drink?” she asked, motioning toward the liquor cabinet in the corner of her beautifully appointed office.
Peter shook his head, gazing deep into her eyes.
Somehow, she found herself in his arms, crying over his loss. “Your cable...David....”
“He is dead, Lydia. Executed. You know the Chinese.”
“Oh, dear God. If only they had listened to us. Ke Loo....”
“It wasn’t Ke Loo,” Peter said. He told her of his meeting with David and how David failed to do what Lydia had once succeeded in doing. “The Empress was quick to punish him.”
Lydia
