"Henry Maxwell is a man of style," Asa replied.

That reminded Blanche of one of her most serious concerns. "What kind of a man is he?" she asked, not bothering to keep the concern from her voice.

Asa stopped, forcing Blanche to stop, too, and for a moment they just stood there looking at each other, oblivious to the people rushing past them on their way to this train or that. "He's the kind of a man who could carve out a place for himself in the world and make a fortune before he was thirty-five. And he's the kind of a man who could disown his own daughter, so I guess that makes him the kind of man you don't want Felicity exposed to. Is that right?"

Blanche nodded, her lips tight with suppressed anger. It was just as she had feared. Just as she knew Joshua feared, too, although they had never spoken of it. Asa Gordon was delivering her sweet friend up to a monster. "How can you do this to her?"

"She deserves to know him," Asa insisted. "He is her grandfather, after all. And don't underestimate her. She has his blood. She may be stronger than you think. She may even be stronger than he is."

"And what if she isn't?" Blanche challenged.

"Then she has Josh," he replied.

There seemed no argument for that, so Blanche resumed her journey to the hotel, no longer even caring if Asa Gordon accompanied her or not. She had been right. The man was a stubborn, overbearing, arrogant…

"I owe you an apology," he said at her elbow.

She almost missed a step but managed to otherwise control her surprise. "Do you?" she asked with apparent unconcern.

"You know I do," he continued, undaunted, increasing his pace to keep up with her.

Blanche could see the hotel just across the street. She hurried toward it, darting around a wagon and narrowly missing a collision with a buggy in her haste. She had to get away. She did not want to hear what he had to say, not when she was already having a hard enough time maintaining her dislike of him.

"Blanche, wait," he said, grabbing her arm and halting her on the steps up to the hotel sidewalk.

He swung her around to face him, and for a long moment, she simply stared into his eyes. For the first time in days she looked directly at him and really saw the torment he was enduring, a torment every bit as agonizing as her own. The thought that he had suffered, too, undid her. She could feel her body sag with surrender as the last of her resistance drained away. "All right," she sighed.

"Let's sit over there," Asa suggested, motioning toward some rocking chairs on the hotel porch.

Blanche nodded and, easing out of his grasp, made her way over to them. When they were both seated, he said, "I'd like to apologize."

"For what?" she asked haughtily, unwilling to make this any easier for him.

"For lying to you. For using you. And for whatever else it is that you'll never be able to forgive me."

Blanche was hard-pressed not to gape. He knew! He really understood why she was so furious at him. And from the expression on his face, the knowledge disturbed him greatly. He was too proud a man to be humbling himself like this otherwise. But if he knew… "Why did you wait so long to ask my forgiveness?" she demanded, thinking of all the days she'd wasted nursing her anger toward him when they might have been getting to know each other better.

He smiled sadly. "Because I wanted you to know I really meant it. If I'd done this last week, you wouldn't have believed me. You would have thought…" He paused, uncertain how much to tell her.

"What would I have thought?" she prodded.

"You would have thought I was only trying to get on your, good side so I could get in your bed," he admitted at last.

Blanche blinked in surprise at his frankness. "And would I have been right?" she asked, experiencing a flutter of excitement.

"Yes," he said.

The flutter became a surge. Emotions she had thought dead and buried with her husband flickered to life. A startled "Oh." escaped her lips, and a delicate blush heated her cheeks. When had she ever felt like this, so flustered yet so elated? Never, she knew, because until now she had never known Asa Gordon. It was as if she had spent her whole life preparing for him, and now he was here.

Except now he was leaving!

Asa rose reluctantly, knowing he had said everything necessary and a lot more than he had intended. The memory of Blanche Delano would haunt his dreams as long as he lived, but at least now he would know she did not hate him. That was the best he could hope for. As a lifelong student of human nature, he had understood the instant he had learned Blanche was Felicity's friend that Blanche would never be able to forgive him his deceit. The one thing a person like Blanche could not tolerate was being used, being made a fool of. He had committed the sin in ignorance, but that would not excuse him. "I'd better be going. Don't want to miss my train."

"But…" she started to object, then stopped. For a moment she could make no sense of this. He had just told her that he… that he wanted her. Not loved, only wanted, and not even wanted enough to use his apology to get her. He had apparently sensed the enormous attraction she felt for him, but had not felt it quite so strongly himself. He was leaving her with regret, but he was still leaving. "No, you don't want to miss your train," she said, rising also and gathering the remnants of her pride around her. If he did not want to stay, she would not beg. No man-not even Asa Gordon-was worth that.

"Have a good trip," she said with false heartiness, "and take care of my girl."

Asa did not return her forced smile. "I'll let her know that she can call on me if she ever needs anything," he promised. "Goodby, Blanche."

"Goodby, Asa," she said, her smile fading as the dull ache in her chest became a sharp pain. She stood on the porch, watching until he was out of sight. He never looked back.

"I'm out," Asa said, throwing in his poker hand.

"Me, too," Josh sighed, tossing his cards aside also.

"You can't be out!" Felicity exclaimed. "I have two aces!" She slapped her cards down on the table indignantly. "I would have won this time!"

Josh and Asa exchanged a glance. "We know," Josh told her, barely suppressing a grin.

"How could you know?" she demanded in outrage. "Did you look at my cards, Joshua Logan?"

"We didn't have to," Josh explained, no longer suppressing his grin. "All we had to do was look at your face."

"My face?" Felicity lifted both hands to her cheeks, wondering if her cards might somehow have been reflected by her skin.

Asa had started chuckling. "All we have to do is look at your face, and we know from your expression whether your cards are good or bad, Mrs. Logan."

"Why didn't you tell me? No wonder I haven't won a single big pot!" she complained in dismay. Josh and Asa had decided the first night on the train that Felicity needed to learn to play poker. They had been playing two-handed, but the possibilities for a good hand were too sum with only two players.

Felicity resisted at first, having been taught all her life that cards were sinful, and gambling absolutely blasphemous. But since she was bored with nothing to do except admire the furnishings in the exquisite railroad car, and since they were only playing for matchsticks, she had finally agreed. The game was easy to learn, but Felicity was rapidly discovering that mastering the rudiments was only the beginning.

"You two are nothing but a couple of… of…" she blustered.

"Cardsharps?" Josh supplied cheerfully.

"No, worse than that," Felicity informed him with a comic pout that made him laugh. "Stop making fun of me and deal the cards."

In spite of her pique, Felicity could not help the rush of tender feelings she experienced as she covertly examined her husband. Watching his strong hands shuffling the deck, Felicity shivered slightly, remembering how those fingers felt stroking along her sensitive flesh. She had thought that the passing of time would make Josh's edict easier to bear, but time only increased her longing for him. How could she live with him for the rest of her life and never again know his touch? And how could she bear never being able to give the man she loved a living child? When she remembered their tragic loss, her baby, so tiny and helpless in death…