“I don't know what Alex is wearing,” Megan said, with the last of her patience. “But you're doing as you're told.”

The sharp tone, rarely heard, had his bottom lip poking out. “I'd rather have pizza.”

“Well, you're not having pizza. Damn it, Kevin, hold still!” “It's choking me.”

“I'm going to choke you in a minute.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and secured the knot. “There. You look very handsome.”

“I look like a dork.”

“Fine, you look like a dork. Now put your shoes on.”

Kevin scowled at the shiny black loafers. “I hate those shoes. I want to wear my sneakers.”

Exasperated, she leaned down until their faces were level. “Young man, you will put your shoes on, and you will watch your tone of voice. Or you'll find yourself in very hot water.”

Megan marched out of his room and across the hall to her own. Snatching her brush from the dresser, she began to drag it through her hair. She didn't want to go to the damn dinner party, either. The aspirin she'd downed an hour before hadn't even touched the splitting headache slicing through her skull. But she had to put on her party face and go down, pretend she wasn't terrified and angry and sick with worry over Baxter Dumont.

Colleen might be wrong, she thought. After all, it had been nearly a decade. Why would Baxter bother with her and Kevin now?

Because he wanted to be a United States senator. Megan closed her eyes.

She read the paper, didn't she? Baxter had already begun his campaign for the seat. And an illegitimate son, never acknowledged, hardly fit the straight-arrow platform he'd chosen.

“Mom.”

She saw Kevin's reflection in the mirror. His shoes were on—and his chin was on his chest. Guilt squeezed its sticky fingers around her heart. “Yes, Kevin.”

“How come you're so mad at everything?”

“I'm not.” Wearily she sat on the edge of the bed. “I've just got a little headache. I'm sorry I snapped at you.” She held out her arms, sighing when he filled them. “You're such a handsome dork, Kev.” When he laughed, she kissed the top of his head. “Let's go down. Maybe Alex and Jenny are here.”

They were, and Alex was just as disgusted with his tie as Kevin was with his. But there was too much going on for the boys to sulk for long. There were canape's to gobble, babies to play with and adventures to plan.

Everyone, naturally, was talking at once.

The volume in the room cut through Megan's aching head like a rusty saw. She accepted the flute of champagne Trenton II offered her, and did her best to pretend an interest in his flirtation. He was trim and tall and tanned, glossily handsome and charming. And Megan was desperately relieved when he turned his attentions on Coco.

“Make a nice couple, don't they?” Nathaniel murmured in her ear. “Striking.” She took a cube of cheese and forced it down.

“You don't look in the party mood, Meg.”

“I'm fine.” To distract him, she changed the subject. “You might be interested in what I think I might have walked in on this afternoon.”

“Oh?” Taking her arm, he steered her toward the open terrace doors. “Coco and Dutch.”

“Fighting again? Saucepans at twenty paces?”

“Not exactly.” She took a deep breath of air, hoping it would clear her head. “They were... at least I think they were...”

Nathaniel's brows shot up. He could fill in the blanks himself. “You're joking.”

“No. They were nose-to-nose, with their arms around each other.” She managed to smile even as she rubbed at the throbbing in her temple. “At my unexpected and ill-timed entrance, they jumped apart as if they'd been planning murder. And they were blushing. Both of them.”

“The Dutchman, blushing?” Nathaniel started to laugh, but it began to sink in. “Good God.”

“I think it's sweet.”

“Sweet.” He looked back inside, where Coco, regally elegant, was laughing over something Trenton had whispered in her ear. “She's out of his league. She'll break his heart.”

“What a ridiculous thing to say.” Lord, why didn't her head just fall off her shoulders and give her some relief? “Sporting events have leagues, not romances.”

“The Dutchman and Coco.” It worried him, because they were two of the very few people in the world he could say he loved. “You're the accountant, sugar, and you're going to tell me that adds up?”

“I'm not telling you anything,” she shot back. “Except I think they're attracted to each other. And stop calling me 'sugar.'“

“Okay, simmer down.” He looked back down at her, focused on her. “What's the matter?”

Guiltily she dropped her hand. She'd been massaging her temple again. “Nothing.”

With an impatient oath, he turned her fully to face him, looked into her eyes. “Headache, huh? Bad one?”

“No, it's- Yes,” she admitted. “Vicious.”

“You're all tensed up.” He began to knead her shoulders. “Tight as a spring.”

“Don't.”

“This is purely therapeutic.” He rubbed his thumbs in gentle circles over her collarbone. “Any pleasure either of us gets out of it is incidental. Have you always been prone to headaches?”

His fingers were strong and male and magical. It was impossible not to stretch under them. “I'm not prone to headaches.”

“Too much stress.” His hands skimmed lightly up to her temples. She closed her eyes with a sigh. “You bottle too much up, Meg. Your body makes you pay for it. Turn around, let me work on those shoulders.”

“It's not—” But the protest died away when his hands began to knead at the knots.

“Relax. Pretty night, isn't it? Moon's full, stars are out. Ever walk up on the cliffs in the moonlight, Megan?”

“No.”

“Wildflowers growing right out of the rock, the water thundering. You can imagine those ghosts Kevin's so fond of strolling hand in hand. Some people think it's a lonely place, but it's not.”

His voice and his hands were so soothing. She could almost believe there was nothing to worry about. '“There's a painting at Suzanna's of the cliffs in moonlight,” Megan offered, trying to focus on the conversation.

“Christian Bradford's work—I've seen it. He had a feel for that spot. But there's nothing like the real thing. You could walk with me there after dinner. I'll show you.”

“This isn't the time to fool around with the girl.” Colleen's voice cut through the evening air, and she stamped her cane in the doorway.

Though Megan tensed again, Nathaniel kept his hands where they were and grinned. ”Seems like a fine time to me, Miss Colleen.”

“Ha! Scoundrel.” Colleen's lips twitched. Nothing she liked better than a handsome scoundrel. “Always were. I remember you, running wild through the village. Looks like the sea made a man of you, all right. Stop fidgeting, girl. He's not going to let loose of you. If you're lucky.”

Nathaniel kissed the top of Megan's head. “She's shy.”

“Well, she'll have to get over it, won't she? Cordelia's finally going to feed us. I want you to sit with me, talk about boats.”

“ It would be a pleasure.”

“Well, come on, bring her. Lived on cruise ships half my life or more,” Colleen began. “I'll wager I've seen more of the sea than you, boy.”

“I wouldn't doubt it, ma'am.” Nathaniel kept one hand on Megan and offered Colleen his arm. “With a trail of broken hearts in your wake.”

She gave a hoot of laughter. “Damn right.”

The dining room was full of the scents of food and flowers and candle wax. The moment everyone was settled, Trenton II rose, glass in hand.

“I'd like to make a toast.” His voice was as cultured as his dinner suit. “To Cordelia, a woman of extraordinary talents and beauty.”

Glasses were clinked. From his spy hole at the crack in the doorway, Dutch snorted, scowled, then stomped back to his own kitchen.

“Trent.” C.C. leaned toward her husband, her voice low. “You know I love you.”

He thought he knew what was coming. “Yes, I do.” “And I adore your father.”

“Mmm-hmm...”

“And if he puts the moves on Aunt Coco, I'm going to have to kill him.” “Right.” Trent smiled weakly and began on the first course.

At the other end of the table, sublimely ignorant of the threat, Trenton beamed at Colleen. “What do you think of The Retreat, Miss Calhoun?”

“I dislike hotels. Never use them.”

“Aunt Colleen.” Coco fluttered her hands. “The St. James hotels are worldfamous for their luxury and taste.”

“Can't stand them,” Colleen said complacently as she spooned up soup. “What's this stuff?”

“It's lobster bisque, Aunt Colleen.”

“Needs salt,” she said, for the devil of it. “You, boy.” She jabbed a finger down the table at Kevin. “Don't slouch. You want your bones to grow crooked?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Got any ambitions?”

Kevin stared helplessly, and was relieved when his mother's hand closed over his. “I could be a sailor,” he blurted out. “I steered the Mariner. ”

“Ha!” Pleased, she picked up her wine. “Good for you. I won't tolerate any idlers in my family. Too thin. Eat your soup, such as it is.”

With a quiet moan, Coco rang for the second course.

“She never changes.” Lazily content, Lilah rocked while Bianca suckled hungrily at her breast. The nursery was quiet, the lights were low. Megan had headed for it, figuring it would be the perfect escape hatch.

“She's...” Megan searched for a diplomatic phrase. “Quite a lady.” “She's a nosy old nuisance.” Lilah laughed lightly. “But we love her.”

In the next rocker, Amanda sighed. “As soon as she hears about Fergus's book, she's going to start nagging you.”

“And badgering,” C.C. put in, cradling Ethan.

“And hounding,” Suzanna finished up as she changed Christian's diaper. “That sounds promising.”

“Don't worry.” With a laugh, Suzanna slipped Christian into his sleeper. “We're right behind you.”

“Notice,” Lilah added with a smile, “the direction is behind. ”

“About the book.” Megan flicked a finger over a dancing giraffe on a mobile. “I've made copies of several pages I thought you'd be interested in. He made a lot of notations, about business deals, personal business, purchases. At one point he inventories jewelry—Bianca's, I assume—for insurance purposes.”

“The emeralds?” Amanda's brow rose at Megan's nod. “And to think of all the hours we spent going through papers, trying to find proof that they existed.”

“There's a number of other pieces—hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth in 1913 dollars.”

“He sold nearly everything,” C.C. murmured. “We found the documents of sale. He got rid of anything that reminded him of Bianca.”

“It still hurts,” Lilah admitted. “Not the money, though God knows we could have used it. It's the loss of what was hers, what we won't be able to pass on.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Amanda rose to lay a sleeping Delia in her crib. “We're too sentimental. I suppose we all feel such a close connection with Bianca.”

“I know what you mean.” It felt odd to admit it, but Megan was compelled. “I feel it, too. I suppose from seeing the references to her in the old book, and having her portrait right there in the lobby.” A bit embarrassed, she laughed. “Sometimes, when you walk down the halls at night, it's almost as if you could sense her.”

“Of course,” Lilah said easily. “She's here.”

“Excuse me, ladies.” Nathaniel stepped inside, obviously comfortable in a nursery inhabited by babies and nursing mothers.

Lilah smiled slowly. “Well, hello, handsome. What brings you to the maternity wing?”

“Just coming to fetch my date.”

When he took Megan's arm, she drew back. “We don't have a date.”

“A walk, remember?” “I never said—”

“It's a lovely night for it.” Suzanna lifted Christian into her arms, cooed to him.

“I have to put Kevin to bed.”

She was digging in her heels, but it didn't seem to be doing any good. “I've already tucked him in.” Nathaniel propelled her toward the doors. “You put Kevin to bed?”

“Since he'd fallen asleep in my lap, it seemed the thing to do. Oh, Suzanna, Holt said the kids are ready whenever you are.”

“I'm on my way.” Suzanna waited until Megan and Nate were out of earshot before she turned to her sisters. “What do you think?”

Amanda smiled smugly. “I think it's working perfectly.”

“I have to agree.” C.C. settled Ethan comfortably in his crib. “I thought Lilah had lost her mind when she came up with the idea of getting those two together.”