Edward, in his folly, had found himself extremely jealous of her, at any rate, and so was glad that other men did not find her as lovely as he did. And since his attachment to her was not sexual, her lack of fig-ure was not at issue.

"Have I told you how grateful I am you agreed to be my duchess?"

"A hundred times, at least."

He squeezed her hand again. She barely felt it.

"Are you and the countess packed?"

"Eddie, don't—"

"We have to talk about it, my dear. You must leave immediately, even if it's the middle of the night."

"It's not right."

He knew what she referred to. "Funerals are de-pressing things, Jocelyn. No purpose can be served by your attending mine, other than to ruin all I've done to see you safe. Promise me?"

She nodded, if reluctantly. He was making it so real, her imminent departure. She had tried not to think of it, as if ignoring it could keep him with her longer. That wasn't possible anymore.

"I sent a copy of your will to Maurice." On seeing her widened eyes, he explained. "I hope it will stay his hand from anything drastic. I am also hoping that once he realizes you've left the country, he will let the matter go and be satisfied with the entailed prop-erties that will come to him. Eaton is rich enough to support him and his large family." She didn't need to stay for the reading of the will, since he had already transferred everything else he owned to her name.

"If you had just given him all of it—"

"Never! I would give it to charity before I let that. Jocelyn, I want you to have it, all of it. That's one of the reasons I married you. I want to know that you will never lack for anything. And I have seen to your safety. The men I have obtained for your guard are the best available. Once you leave England, Maurice will be unable to manipulate the courts against you. And after you come of age, or if you should marry—"

"Don't mention marriage now, Eddie. not now," she said brokenly.

"I'm sorry, my dear, but you're so young. The day will come when—"

"Eddie, please!"

"Very well. But you do know that I just want you to be happy?"

He shouldn't have said so much to her. He was tired now; he could barely keep his eyes open. And yet there was so much more he wanted to say.

"The world is yours… to enjoy."

"I will, Eddie, I promise. I'D make it an adventure, just as you've said. I'll see it all, do it all." She was speaking rapidly now, because he seemed to be fading right before her eyes. She squeezed his hand tighter until his eyes focused on her again. "I'll ride camels and elephants, hunt lions in Africa, climb the pyramids in Egypt."

"Don't forget. your stud farm."

"I won't. I'll produce the finest Thoroughbreds in the… Eddie?" His eyes had closed, his fingers gone slack. "Eddie?"

"I love. you. Jocelyn."

"Eddie!"

Chapter Three

Arizona Territory, 1881

It was not a road so much as a mule trail, so narrow at points that several times the lead coach had gotten wedged, once between the ridge of the mountain and immovable boulders, another time between two high, rocky slopes. Each time a good many hours were wasted in widening the path with shovels and picks, tools fortunate enough to have been included in the supplies. Not many miles had been covered this hot morning in October.

Hot. It was that, but Mexico had been worse, much worse, especially in July, an unfortunate time of year to enter that particular country. The cavalcade of coaches and wagons had crossed the Mexican border last night, and that was when their guide had disappeared — the reason they were not on a decent road now. They were lost, in the middle of mountain ranges that seemed to go on forever, though the trail they followed surely must end somewhere.

They were on their way to Bisbee. Or was it Benson? They really did need a guide for this area. The Mexican they had hired several months ago had done an admirable job of getting them over the border without incident, but he obviously had lied about his knowledge of this North American region, or he wouldn't have run off and left them without warning.


Of course, there was no hurry to get anywhere. They had supplies enough to last a month, gold enough to replenish the stores when they did finally reach Bisbee, or Benson, whichever came first. Any town would do, actually. It didn't really matter.

There had been a lot of coin tossing lately to decide on the next direction to travel in, something Jocelyn had started in Europe when she couldn't make up her mind what country to visit next. She had every inten-tion of eventually reaching California this time, where she had sent her ship, the Jocel, to meet her.

Of course, if something came up to change her mind in the interim, she could always send a message to the captain to meet her elsewhere, as she had done many times before.

She had been debating whether to spend some months exploring this country, as they had done in Mexico, or whether to go on to Canada or South America once she reached California. It was a mat-ter of priorities, really, safety versus pleasure. She wanted to see more of these Western territories, and more of the states, too, and their cities. She had only been to New York and New Orleans so far. And she had especially wanted to visit the stud farms in Ken-tucky she had heard about, to see how their Thor-oughbreds would compare with hers, and if they had any mares she might want to buy for Sir George, the prize stallion she had brought with her.

But if she did as she wanted to do, John Longnose was likely to catch up to them. He was the chap who had been following them about the world ever since they had left England three years ago, hiring cohorts in different countries as he needed them, so that they never really knew whom to suspect, or whom to watch out for. They had never seen the man, nor did they know his actual name. John Longnose was simply the name they gave to him because he was so often a topic of conversation, and they needed some name to call him by.

The safe thing to do would be to take to sea again once they reached California. There was a good chance that Longnose would lose the scent that way, at least for a while. Unless, of course, he had already tracked her ship to the West Coast and would be there waiting for her. And blast it all, she was tired of playing it safe, she really was. It was all she had been doing since this mad adventure had begun, often having to leave a place before she was ready, changing hotels frequently, changing her name even more fre-quently.

"Oh, dear, I see you're brooding again," Vanessa remarked, looking pointedly at the fan Jocelyn was using with increased speed. The frown she got in answer had her amending, "Of course it is terribly hot, isn't it?"

"We’ve been in hotter countries, including the one we just left."

"Indeed we have."

Vanessa said no more. She even looked back out the window, as if the subject were closed. Jocelyn knew better. It was an affectation of the countess's to give the impression of retreat, when that was rarely if ever her intention. It was an annoying habit, though Jocelyn was quite used to it by now, even ignored it most times. It was easier to just tell Vanessa what she wanted to know than to try to put her off.

You would think two women would get on each other's nerves after being constant companions for so long, but that had never happened. The friendship begun in England had grown until there wasn't anything they didn't know about each other, anything they couldn't speak of.

They made an odd pair, Jocelyn with her vivid col-oring, Vanessa pale with ash-blond hair and light brown eyes. The countess was thirty-five now, but she looked ten years younger, with a full figure that turned men's heads. Jocelyn was still thin, all the rich, exotic foods she had sampled in every country they visited not helping at all to increase her curves. When they stood together, Vanessa's shortness made Jocelyn appear taller than her five and a half feet in height, and skinnier than she really was. Vanessa was approachable, conventional in appearance, not at all intimi-dating, while Jocelyn was the exact opposite simply because her looks were so unusual.

Jocelyn wouldn't know what to do without the countess. She often marveled that the older woman hadn't abandoned her long ago, or at least in New York, where their pursuit had taken on a more sinister aspect with the murder of Jocelyn's American solici-tor. But Vanessa had seemed to thrive on the adventure. And unlike Jocelyn, she had always wanted to see the world, so she was enjoying every minute of their travels. She rarely complained, even when their accommodations were less than adequate, or the weather was the worst that it could get.

Vanessa wasn't the only one who had remained loyal through it all. They still had Babette and Jane, their lady's maids from Fleming Hall. The three grooms who saw to the horses, and Sidney and Pear-son, the two menservants who came in most handy whenever they camped out in the open, were the same men Edward had picked for Jocelyn's entourage. They had lost their first cook and her two helpers, but Phil-ippe Marivaux, the temperamental French chef they had found in Italy to replace her, was still with them, as were the Spaniard and the Arab who were later hired to assist him, as well as drive the wagons when necessary. And only four of the original sixteen-man escort had left Jocelyn's employ. Those weren't so easy to replace, for there weren't that many men skilled with weapons who were also willing to leave their homes and countries for what was beginning to seem like a never-ending journey.