Whitney, My Love

But going home also meant leaving her beloved aunt and uncle.

She turned away from the mirror and saw her aunt's shoulders shaking with silent weeping. "I feel as if I'm being severed in half," A

"I love you, Aunt A

Pausing outside Whitney's bedroom, Edward squared his shoulders and carefully schooled his desolate features into a fixed, bright smile. Clasping his hands behind his back, he strolled into the room. "Having a good time, ladies?" he ventured with forced joviality, glancing from one weeping woman to the other.

Two teary, anguished faces gaped at him in utter disbelief. "Having a good. . . ?" A

Whitney's gaiety fled, and fresh tears stung her eyes. "Oh Uncle Edward," she whispered brokenly, "I shall never, never love any man as much as I love you."

To his acute dismay, Edward felt his eyes misting. He opened his arms wide, and his niece came into them. When at last the storm of emotions had passed, the three of them stood looking sheepishly at one another, each clutching a handkerchief. Edward was the first to speak. "Well now, England isn't the end of the world, is it?"

"It-it isn't exactly next door, either," Whitney said, dabbing at her eyes.

"You have friends there," Edward reminded her. "And of course, that young man you admired so much is there too-the blond fellow who didn't have brains enough to recognize a jewel when she was right under his nose. What was his name?"

"Paul," Whitney provided with a teary smile.

"The man's a fool-he should have snatched you up before." Edward paused, then watching her very closely, he said, "I expect he will now."

"I hope so," Whitney said fervently.

"I rather thought you did, child," he said with an I-told-you-so look at A

"I intend to try," Whitney admitted, puzzled because her uncle suddenly looked like a small mischievous boy.

"In that case," he continued, "I expect you'll get yourself betrothed before the snow falls."

"If I can," Whitney said, smiling eagerly.

Jamming his hands into his pants pockets, he seemed to consider an idea. "I rather think at a time like that, a lass should have a woman to advise her. It might take a lot of pla

"Paul," Whitney provided breathlessly.

"Right, Paul. You know my dear," he said thoughtfully, "you might like to have your aunt come with you." He peered over his spectacles at Whitney. "Would that please you?"

"Yes!" she shrieked, laughing. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Edward hugged her and looked over her shoulder at his beaming wife. The smile of gratitude that she gave him was compensation enough for his sacrifice. "I've been postponing a journey to Spain," he said. "When the two of you leave, I'll be about the kingdom's business there. After a stop or two along the way, I'll come to England to congratulate that laggard you'll be betrothed to, and I'll bring your aunt back home with me when I leave."

Now that he had the satisfaction of outmaneuvering Martin Stone by sending A

Nicolas DuVille's parents held a lavish party in Whitney's honor the night before Lady A

They had stolen a few moments alone together in one of the anterooms of his parents' spacious house. Nicki was standing by the fireplace, one shoulder propped against the mantle, idly contemplating the drink in his hand. "I'll miss you, Nicki," Whitney said softly, unable to endure the silence.

He looked up, his expression amused. "Will you, cherie?" Before she could answer, he added, "I shall not miss you for very long."

Whitney's lips trembled with surprised laughter. "What a perfectly unchivalrous thing to say!"

"Chivalry is for callow youths and old men," Nicki told her with a teasing inflection in his voice. "However, I shan't miss you for long, because I intend to come to England in a few months."

Whitney shook her head, and in sheer desperation said, "Nicki, there is someone else. At home, I mean. At least, I think there is. His name is Paul and . . ." She trailed off, bewildered by Nicki's slow grin.

"Has he ever come to France to see you?" he asked carefully.

"No, he wouldn't even think of such a thing. You see, I was different then-you know, childish, and he only remembers me as a reckless, unruly, inelegant young girl who . . . Why are you gri

"Because I am delighted," Nicki said, laughing softly. "Delighted to learn, after so many weeks of wondering who my rival is, that he is some English idiot whom you haven't seen in four years, and who hadn't sense enough to anticipate the woman you would become. Go home, cherie," he chuckled, putting his glass down and drawing her tightly against him. "You will soon discover that in matters of the heart, memories are much kinder than reality. Then, in a few months, I will come, and you will listen to what I wish to say."

Whitney knew he intended to declare himself, just as she knew it would be futile to argue the point now. Her memories would not prove better than reality, because none of her memories were good ones. But she didn't want to explain to Nicki how shockingly she had behaved, and why Paul couldn't possibly have imagined she would turn out to be a presentable young woman.

Besides, Nicki wouldn't have listened; he was already bending his head to claim her lips in a long, violently sweet

ENGLAND

1880

Chapter Nine

IN THE DEEPENING DUSK OF A SPLENDID SEPTEMBER DAY, Whitney gazed out the coach window at the achingly familiar scene. She was only a few miles from home.

Uncle Edward had insisted that they travel in style, which meant that, in addition to their coach, there were two more, heavily loaded with trunks and valises, and a fourth carrying Aunt A

The coach swayed as they turned north onto the private drive leading up to her home. Whitney's hands shook as she drew on her lilac gloves so that she would look absolutely perfect when she saw her father.

"Nervous?" A

"Yes. How do I look?"

Lady A