Felicity listened in growing horror. Her fears were not just the strange notions that came along with morning sickness and mysterious cravings. They were real, and Richard-and probably her grandfather as well-had them, too. But then she recalled the one thing that had kept her hopes alive until now. "Joshua loves me," she said.

Richard's expression grew tender. "I don't know how he could help but love you," he assured her, taking her hands in his. "But his actions speak for themselves. If he loved you, he would be here."

"Then I'll go to him," Felicity cried, brushing Richard's clinging hands aside and rising to her feet. Yes, that's what she would do; she would go to Joshua, just as she had before. Once the child was born, and it would be born; of that she was certain. Dr. Strong had explained to her that there were instruments called forceps which could aid nature in difficult births like hers had been. He had also explained that subsequent births were often not as difficult. When her baby was born, she would take him home. Surely Joshua would want to see his own child…

"You'd go back to him after he threw you out?" Richard asked, struggling to his feet. "Have you no pride?"

She did, and it rebelled now. "He did not throw me out!" she informed her cousin.

But Richard was no longer in a mood to quibble. "He sent you away, Felicity. You can't deny it."

Felicity opened her mouth to do just that, but the words died in her throat as the truth of his statement hit home. "Oh, Richard," she whispered as the agony of betrayal twisted her heart.

He was beside her in an instant, his comforting arms embracing her. "You don't need to think about him anymore, my darling," he crooned. "We'll take care of you. I'll take care of you and your baby."

That fervent promise crushed her fragile control, and she broke down completely, sobbing against his chest. She needed someone to take care of her at that moment, and Richard was the kindest man she knew. After a few minutes, she allowed him to lead her over to the settee, where they sat down together, his arms still around her.

He was murmuring nonsense to soothe her, but after a while his words began to make sense. "There's no reason why you should be expected to bury yourself on a ranch out in the middle of nowhere. You have a great talent, and you should be allowed to develop it. You saw for yourself how well your pictures were received at the Exposition. You could have your own studio, and people would come from all over the country to have their portraits made…"

Felicity knew he was right. She would never forget the thrill of attending the Centennial Exposition, of seeing all the marvels of the world gathered into one central spot for display. But the marvels that had impressed her the most had been those housed in the Women's Pavilion. Felicity would have found this exhibit honoring the accomplishments of women fascinating even if her pictures had not been included among those accomplishments. The fact that they had been was wondrous, but even more wondrous was the reaction her pictures had caused. Had she not been enceinte, and consequently not receiving visitors, people would have been flocking to her door, just as Richard predicted.

Richard gently wiped the last of her tears away with his snowy-white handkerchief, thankful beyond words that she was calm again. "So you see, you don't need your husband," Richard explained. Behind them he heard the parlor door slide open. Bellwood would be summoning them to dinner in a moment, so he spoke quickly, urgently. "You can have a wonderful life here. You'll have the work you love to keep you busy and make you famous, and you'll have people to love you and take care of you. I love you, Felicity. Let me take care of you."

"A very generous offer, Winthrop," a sarcastic voice decreed from the doorway.

Felicity broke from Richard's embrace and turned toward the tall figure standing silhouetted by the gaslight in the hallway. Her heart seemed to have lodged in her throat at the same time it was pounding a tattoo against her ribs. Slowly, carefully she rose from the settee as she stared at the apparition, unable to quite allow herself to believe her eyes. After what seemed an eternity of uncertainty, she managed to whisper, "Joshua?"

"I'm here, Lissy," he said simply.

Heedless of how ungainly she would look, Felicity picked up her skirts and ran to him. He met her halfway, enfolding her in his arms. Felicity clung with all her strength, inhaling his blessedly familiar scent mingled with the lingering odors of train soot and fresh evening air. But what was so familiar was also slightly different, and after another moment, she realized why. Where before his beloved body had been generously padded with muscle, now she felt only the sharp angle of bones. He was much thinner. Too thin.

She pulled away, her joy suddenly turning to alarm when she took a closer look at his face. Still handsome, his features were now sharpened by the pale gauntness of a long illness. "Dear heaven, what happened?" she demanded.

But Josh did not hear her question. He was glaring over her head at Richard Winthrop. "That was an interesting proposition you were making my wife when I came in," he said, his voice hard with suppressed fury. "Would you like to repeat it now?"

Felicity turned in Joshua's arms to see Richard's reaction. His elegant face was beet-red, as if he were strangling. "Where in the hell have you been?" he demanded, giving Felicity some indication of how upset he was. He had never before used profanity in her presence. "You should have been here a month ago."

"So you said in your letter," Josh replied. Felicity could feel the tension vibrating through his too thin body.

"Joshua, please," she tried, but again he did not seem to hear.

"Do you make a habit of professing your love to married women, or is my wife a special case?" Josh inquired menacingly.

"Your wife is a very special case, as you well know," Richard grated, his slender hands forming into fists.

"Stop it, both of you!" Felicity shouted, giving Joshua a shake to get his attention. "You're acting like two dogs fighting over the same bone, and the bone doesn't like it one bit!"

Josh lowered his gaze to her upturned face, and for an instant his expression softened as he took in her beauty, the glittering gold of her hair, the glimmering azure of her eyes. Even her body, so distorted by his child, was beautiful to him. But then he pictured her in Richard's embrace, as she had been a few seconds ago, and his hands came up and clutched at her shoulders possessively. "Has he been making love to you ever since you've been here?"

"No!" she replied, outraged that he thought she would allow such a thing. "I wouldn't have let him in the same room with me if he had even tried."

"But he was making love to you when I came in," Josh pointed out, his grip tightening until she winced.

"He was comforting me because I was crying."

"And what did he say to make you cry?" Josh challenged.

Felicity did not even consider sparing him. "He said that if you loved me, you wouldn't have sent me away," she reported, and ignoring his profane reaction, she went on relentlessly. "He also said that if you were half a man, you would have been here with me. And he was right and that's why I cried, but you were sick, weren't you Joshua?" she demanded, giving him another shake.

"Not sick exactly," he said, lifting his steel-gray gaze to Richard again. "We had a little trouble with Ortega again, and I… I caught a bullet," he admitted reluctantly.

"Oh, Joshua!" Felicity cried. "Where were you hit?" She stepped back, examining him from head to toe as if she could see the wound right through his clothes.

"In the chest," he explained with equal reluctance.

With an anguished cry, she drew him to her again, as if she could somehow shield him from any further pain, and she felt a tremor go through his body. Whether it was caused by fatigue or fury, she could not tell, but she decided he had been standing long enough in any case. "Come in and sit down by the fire. You must be frozen after that ride from the station," she said, releasing him and leading him over to the settee where she and Richard had been sitting.

Richard stepped away as they approached. His face was still red, but now he looked more embarrassed than angry. Josh sat down with carefully concealed relief. Felicity saw it, but she knew Joshua would rather die than betray any weakness before Richard. She realized that she needed to be alone with her husband as soon as possible. "Richard, thank you for coming by to see me today. I'm so sorry you won't be able to join us for supper," she added, purposely using the wrong word because she knew the interpretation he would place on it.

Richard needed no subtle hints, however. "It has been my pleasure to care for you, but now I see that you no longer need that care, Cousin Felicity," he said stiffly. "I… I'm very happy for you," he added graciously, although his brown eyes were full of pain over his loss.

"Thank you," she replied, and those two words held a wealth of meaning. She gave him her hand. He carried it to his lips briefly, but before Josh could even react, Richard dropped her fingers, turned on his heel, and was gone.

Even before the door slid shut behind him, Felicity turned back to her husband, appalled at his appearance. But before she could speak, he said, "How are you?" He gestured toward her stomach.

"Oh, Joshua," she cried in frustration. "I'm perfectly fine. You're the one we have to worry about!" She took the seat beside him and reached out to stroke the beloved angles of his face. "What happened? Tell me everything."