"Yes, very," Richard agreed, giving Joshua a look that was almost accusatory.

Felicity wondered what that look meant, but before she could decide, her grandfather asked her, "May I keep these for a while?"

"You can keep them forever," Felicity assured him. "I told you, they're my gift to you."

He gave her a charming smile that made her think of Richard's. "Of course, I'd like them better if there were more pictures of you in here."

"It's hard to take a picture of the photographer," she told him with a laugh.

For just an instant his eyes clouded. "You have her laugh, too," he murmured, but then he brightened again. "Well, I've kept you long enough. You'll be tired from your trip and you'll want to get settled in your room. I imagine Bellwood has had your luggage delivered and unpacked by now. Hastings won't show you where to go."

Josh and Felicity rose. "Will we see you at supper?" she asked.

"No." He shook his head regretfully. "I have a difficult time with the stairs nowadays. But come and see me again afterward, will you?"

"Yes, of course I will," she promised, and then, impulsively-much the same way she had with Mr. Gordon-she bent down and kissed her grandfather's sunken cheek. "I'm awfully glad I came," she whispered.

"So am I," Maxwell whispered back, his eyes suspiciously moist. Then he turned to Josh. "You're a very lucky man," he said gruffly, extending his hand.

"I know," Josh replied, easily reading Maxwell's envy. All his money could not buy him Felicity. Or at least Josh hoped it couldn't.

When Josh and Felicity were gone, Richard turned to his uncle. The old man was obviously smitten with the girl, but there was still the matter of her marriage to Logan. "Well, what do you think?" he asked.

Henry Maxwell sat staring thoughtfully at the door, tapping one index finger on his lower lip. "She's a lovely girl," he said slowly, and then his expression turned cunning. "Get Gordon over here right away. I want to ask him a few questions."

"About Logan," Richard guessed.

"That and some other things. And find out who makes Isabel's clothes and get them over here tomorrow morning, first thing. The poor child can't go out in public looking like that. Oh, and bring me some writing paper. I want to send a note to Alexander Evans," Maxwell added.

"Evans?" Richard asked, puzzled about how the shipping magnate fit into all of these plans.

"Yes, Evans. He belongs to that Photographic Society. I want to get his opinion on these pictures."

Josh undressed slowly, being very careful not to look over at the bed, where Felicity already lay. Oddly enough, he hadn't given much thought to how difficult it was going to be sharing a bed with her after so long a period of abstinence. Unfortunately, it was absolutely necessary that he do so. He did not dare ask for separate rooms and let Maxwell know what a sham their marriage was.

The old man had already drawn the battle lines, making it very clear that the two of them were in competition for Felicity. Maxwell would use the same cunning to win her that he had used to amass his considerable fortune. The thought made Josh's blood run cold. And then there was Winthrop. Where he fit into all of this was anybody's guess, but the little weasel had definitely intended to kiss Felicity this afternoon at the train station. If he didn't have designs on her, too, he was the only one around here who didn't. Josh would have his hands full protecting her from both of them.

Sighing wearily, Josh hung his trousers in the intricately carved rosewood wardrobe and began, from habit, to unbutton his underdrawers, but his hands hesitated on the buttons. What was he doing? The last thing he should do was climb into that bed naked. After refastening the buttons, he moved over to the shiny brass light fixture hanging on the wall and turned off the gaslight, grateful that his own experience had been broad enough to include gaslights. There were already far too many things about life in Philadelphia that were a mystery to him.

Felicity sighed in the darkness. He was going to wear his drawers to bed, as if he needed some protection from her. She waited, lying stiffly beneath the silky sheets, until she felt the bed sag under his weight. His movements were careful as he adjusted the bedclothes over him. Not even so much as an elbow brushed against her. She sighed again.

After they had lain there in complete silence for a long time, Felicity spoke. "What do you think of my grandfather?"

Josh knew she wouldn't want to hear his true opinion, so he said, "He seems like a nice enough fellow."

"I guess Blanche was right about him being rich," she remarked.

Josh only grunted.

"I kept thinking all day what a shame it was that Blanche wasn't here," Felicity continued. "She's the one who could really appreciate all this."

"She would have jumped at the chance to have a rich man buy her clothes, too," Josh said, testing her.

But Felicity did not consider the clothes very important, so she only laughed. "Yes, she would. Blanche would take him for all he's worth, too. She'll be so jealous when she finds out."

Felicity waited, but he made no response. Only the sound of his breathing broke the unnatural silence of the room. The warmth from his body seemed to draw her like a magnet, but she dared not move toward him, not when he still lay as stiff as a poker. Not when he still had given no indication he even wanted her. She heard him inhale deeply, and she listened, expecting to hear him sigh into relaxation. Instead, his breath rasped, sounding almost like a moan.

"Joshua?" she asked into the darkness.

"What?"

She sensed his wariness. "Will you… It's been so long… Will you hold me? Just hold me?" she asked, hating the way her voice sounded, like a little girl pleading for a favor.

But he didn't seem to notice. Muttering something that sounded of relief, he turned and wrapped his arms around her in one fluid motion. For a second the nearness of him almost overwhelmed her as desire burst brightly inside of her. The satin smoothness of his heated flesh, the musky maleness of his scent, the tender caress of his roughened hands stirred blessedly familiar sensations to life.

But, she reminded herself, she had only asked him to hold her. To ask more was to betray her promise to him. Even though she had made that promise under duress, she still must keep it. And so she controlled her clamoring desires by sheer force of will and lay motionless in his arms.

Josh cradled her softness to him, enduring the sweetest of torments as visions of the pleasures they had previously known danced provocatively before his mind's eye. He could feel the tension in her slight body and hear the raggedness of her breathing. He knew her desires matched his own, but he also knew she would make no demands. Not now. Not until she had consulted with her doctors, at least. After that, when she knew the truth about the empty years ahead, her demands would be different.

Pulling her closer, he buried his face in the cloud of her hair. "Go to sleep, honey," he urged, hoping that he could do the same.

The dressmaker came early. Felicity and her aunt spent the morning poring over designs and fabric swatches until Felicity's head was spinning and she no longer had a clear idea of exactly how many dresses she was having made. Too many; of that she was certain.

When the dressmaker had finally gone, Felicity found Joshua reading a newspaper downstairs in one of the parlors.

He glanced up and frowned at the somewhat dazed expression on her face. "Is something wrong?"

Felicity shook her head. "I don't think so," she said, and then smiled at her own uncertainty. "It's just that I never did anything like that before. Mademoselle Fabian had so many beautiful designs to choose from that I'm afraid I went a little crazy. Aunt Isabel insisted, though. She even made me order some evening dresses," Felicity reported, wide-eyed. "She said that Richard would be taking us out to the theater and places like that. You can't imagine how formally people here dress."