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  "Daisy doesn't like Parisian society," the Duc said, as though the revelation of that fact was suddenly clear after meeting her father.

  "She never has." Hazard held his glass lightly between his palms, his slender fingers dark against the sparkling crystal. A gold charm dangled from a delicate gold chain circling his wrist, and Etienne recognized the same cougar design Daisy wore as a locket at times. It was an amulet, she'd told him, crafted from the gold of her father's first mine, an insignia of his Absarokee name and his protective vision. "I think it has something to do with her rearing. In her early years, our tribe still followed the buffalo. It was a time of plenty, our land stretched across hundreds of miles of mountain and prairie. They were good years… when the land was still ours." In a voice betraying none of his poignant memories, Hazard succinctly added, "Paris is an anomaly to her."

  Intellectually, Etienne understood the nomadic way of life for he'd lived with many of the Asiatic tribes during the years he traveled with Georges. But coming from his background of aristocratic privilege, he couldn't fully perceive of a childhood entirely related to nature. Or understand completely the dichotomy now between her past and the sophisticated woman she'd become. "Daisy takes strongest issue with the idleness… the frivolity," he said.

  "She was always quieter and more serious than most children," Hazard replied, "and after her mother and stepfather were killed—well… she's never been open about her feelings." His voice was hushed suddenly, the old memories vivid and fresh. Daisy's mother had been his companion the last summer he was home with his tribe before the Civil War, in those happy days when the Absarokee were still in possession of the best hunting grounds on the northern plains and the spirits were still looking down on their people with benevolence. Daisy had been born after he'd gone back to Harvard. Then the war had intervened, and he hadn't seen her until she was almost four. He'd always felt guilty about missing that portion of her childhood. But Dawn Light had fallen in love with Seven Arrows by the time he'd returned from the war and in the way of their tribe, Daisy had been raised with her mother and Seven Arrows.

  In some ways he felt more responsible for Daisy because of his absence in her first years of life, feeling that perhaps he'd contributed in some way to her reserved nature. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward, his expression grave. "I might as well get right to the point," he said, his dark eyes fixed on the Duc. "I was wondering—if you don't mind the fatherly term—exactly what your intentions are toward my daughter." Hazard wasn't prudish; he understood passion and need. But he'd seen Nadine tonight and knew the Duc's reputation.

  "I asked Daisy to marry me."

  Etienne's statement elicited a skeptically raised eyebrow.

  "After my divorce is finalized."

  "Daisy says perhaps that isn't a possibility." Hazard's tone was scrupulously polite, exquisitely polite, a tactful inquiry into the Duc's honest intentions.

  "She probably told you my wife isn't cooperating." Etienne sighed. "It could take some time."

  "How long?"

  The Duc set his glass down on a small table intricately inlaid with fragrant sandalwood. "I don't honestly know." A moody ill-humor colored his voice. "Neither Isabelle nor her family approves of divorce… a very new option in France anyway, as you might know."

  "So I've been told." Hazard's dark gaze took in the Duc's brooding scowl for a long moment, and his voice, when he spoke, was grave. "How much do you love her?" He didn't ask do you love her because he wanted to know more than that. "She's my only daughter," he cryptically added.

  "I've never loved anyone before. I love her that much," Etienne simply said.

  Hazard put his glass down, too, as if the amenities were past and the serious issues confronted them. "I don't care about your divorce," he quietly said. "Our culture enfranchises individual choice. Male or female," he softly added. "What I do care about though, is my daughter's happiness. My question is whether you can offer her that." He put his hand up to stay the Duc's response until he finished. "She's not sure apparently about her feelings and I don't know if the problem is yours or hers. I don't even know positively a problem exists, but my wife tells me one does. You tell me."

  "Is Daisy involved with anyone else?" Not only jealousy but practicality prompted Etienne's question. "Because if she is, then the reasons she's given me for her refusal of my marriage offer are in the way of a polite dismissal. If not… I'll do my damndest to change her mind."

  "I don't know if her involvement matters. In my culture, a man woos a woman whether he has rivals or not. If he cares."

  "Good." Etienne's smile drove the moodiness from his eyes.

  "You shouldn't have any trouble pressing your suit if rumor's true," Hazard mildly said, amusement prominent in his tone.

  "I have your permission, then, to court your daughter?" The Duc spoke in swift declaration. "And I intend to divorce Isabelle if it means buying off every magistrate in France."

  "I was wondering if you hadn't considered that possibility before. Bribes are quite effective over here. Although certainly never cheap. Trey's divorce cost us one of our mines, but you met Valerie tonight. The exorbitant price was worth it."

  "Yet the man with her tonight is a family member."

  "Valerie's a pleasant diversion; one simply wouldn't want her for a wife, and Blaze's brother Kit is still only interested in diverting himself. He'll enjoy her company."

  "A benevolent point of view."

  "Kit's special. He's my wife's only family."

  "Does he live in Montana too?"

  "At times. He mostly sails."

  "For business?"

  "No. Kit's only business is pleasure. Some of your commercial interests are railroads, Daisy tells me. A problem for her, she also tells me, with your lines in Europe. Do you see it as a problem?"

  "I was hoping she might live with me in Paris… at least part of the year. I honestly hadn't considered it an issue. I told her the problems of our two lives could be solved… somehow."

  "Can they though? I wouldn't be honest if I didn't admit Daisy's extremely important to our clan as well as to our family. We're in litigation right now over mineral rights to our new mine. These court fights are hell; the case could very well drag out for years and she's the best legal resource person we have. In that respect I don't know how much she'll be willing to compromise. Daisy is seriously committed to our tribe."

  "I'm more of a romantic than she. I'm convinced we can reach some agreement."

  "Would you live in Montana?"

  "I can't permanently. My business ventures require my presence in Europe at least occasionally."

  "Hmm," Hazard murmured.

  An ominous sound suddenly in the silence of the Alhambra chamber. "Surely we can compromise."

  "We've railroad building out West now too. You might want to think about it. Come out some time and take a look for yourself."

  The door to the smoking room opened then and Nadine swept in, her arms open wide, her smile radiant. "There you are!" She sailed over in a cloud of perfume and black lace. "You've had him long enough, Hazard. He's mine now."

  "Good luck," Hazard murmured to Etienne with a grin. "He's all yours, Nadine," he said aloud. "But remember, we might need him for a polo match tomorrow if our play-off is scheduled. The Duc might like some sleep."

  "Rest assured, Hazard, I'll see that Oliver arranges a rest day for tomorrow. The Duc has graciously promised to come over to Barkley lighthouse later in the afternoon for my picnic."

  "I do have an early appointment with Hector in the morning, Nadine."

  "It's only one-thirty, Etienne."

  "It's only one-thirty for people who sleep until noon, Nadine. And that doesn't include me since I'm Hector's breakfast partner. In fact, Jolie invited me to stay with them tonight."

  "Could I drive you over on my way home?" Hazard offered, although he knew his carriage was back at the Rutherfords'. He didn't think the Duc would mind walking.

  With heartf
elt relief, Etienne took Hazard up on his offer.

  Nadine pouted prettily for a moment, but the French team would be playing in the tournament another week; she had time. "Tomorrow then, Etienne," she softly said, "at the lighthouse."

  Since he knew Daisy would be there, he said, "Sometime later… after Hector's visit."

  Nadine's smile was complaisant, satisfied. "Pleasant dreams," she archly murmured, and with a coquettish tap of her fan on his cheek, she left.

  When Hazard and the Duc reentered the billiard room a few moments later, Trey and Kit momentarily paused in their game.

  Guards at the door? Etienne mused. Their presence, however casual, had that look, although Trey and Kit both were smiling and friendly when they reached them a moment later.

  "Nadine tells us Oliver will schedule us a day of rest before our return match," Hazard said, as if his conversation with Etienne had been inconsequential. "Who's winning?"

  "Kit."

  "Trey."

  They hadn't been keeping score, more intent on the events in the smoking room. They were, as Etienne had suspected, there as backup.

  "We're tied, actually," Kit said, his expression bland. "Care to join us?"

  "I'm giving the Duc a ride over to his daughter's."

  Which comment raised interesting possibilities, Trey thought, considering their carriage was at the Rutherfords'. "I'll come with you," he said. "I can beat Kit anytime." The grin he directed at his uncle was teasing.

  "You don't mind walking, do you?" Hazard looked at Etienne. "Blaze took the carriage but you looked like you needed an excuse for Nadine."

  "I'd walk a hundred miles to avoid arguing with Nadine at my bedroom door tonight. Thanks."

  "If you're leaving," Kit said, "I'll find Valerie, provided she hasn't left with someone else by now."

  "A distinct possibility," Hazard dryly said.

  "If she has, then I'll walk home with you." Kit didn't give the appearance of being profoundly concerned.

  "I'm happy to see your heart isn't involved," Hazard lazily said.

  "Valerie isn't interested precisely in… hearts." Kit's grin creased the deep tan of his cheeks.

  And when he returned a few moments later to report she'd been seen leaving with a younger son of the Duke of Beresford, Trey sardonically drawled, "Apparently Comers has a few more dollars in the bank than you do."

  "Actually he doesn't, poor fellow. He's a younger son. But he does have several titles, and since Valerie already has a great deal of money—thanks to your generosity," he added with a grin, "she's probably in the market for a coronet."

  "Poor wretch."

  "Not necessarily, Hazard. He may be in the market for a healthy bank account. A common interest, as it were, for their relationship. Besides sex," Kit added with a wolfish smile.

  "Always the basis for any of Valerie's relationships."

  "But as you well know, Trey," Kit's arched his brow suggesting roguish memory, "not at all common."

  Trey couldn't help but smile. "True."

  Moments later they were being ushered out into the foggy night by Nadine's liveried footmen. Standing under the huge lit portico before stepping out into the fog, Hazard apologized for their candid discussion of Valerie. "In her own way, she's an interesting and um energetic woman. And were it not for her extreme selfishness, well…"

  "You wouldn't be raising her child," Kit said.

  "Or be one gold mine poorer than before," Trey curtly added. "Don't forget that."

  "The Duc and I were discussing the expenses of divorcing earlier. Certain expenditures are necessary."

  "Mine has currently reached an impasse," Etienne declared.

  "A permanent impasse, Daisy seems to think," Hazard ex-plained. "The Duc has asked my permission to press his suit with Daisy."

  "So you're the reason she's been moping since she returned from France. Good luck and welcome to the family, as long as it's not my wife you're interested in," Trey added, his smile pale in the gray foggy night. In Trey and Empress's estrangement before their marriage, the Duc de Vec had been one of Empress's closer friends.

  All the palatial cottages on Bellevue Avenue faced the ocean, and having strolled several doors down from the Belmonts', the men paused at Hatfield Keene's, where Jolie and Henri were guests. "Jolie isn't actually expecting me," Etienne explained when they stopped to say good-night. "I'm going on to the polo club. I thought I'd stay with my ponies. A pleasant alternative to Nadine."

  "Come to Rutherford's instead," Hazard offered. "The club is bare-bones sleeping arrangements and probably full up anyway."

  "I don't want to impose," the Duc courteously replied. "I can sleep with my groom if need be."

  "Nonsense. No need to sleep with your ponies when there're palaces up and down this block. Frank built Idle Hour to satisfy his tastes anyway, not his wife's. His annex was built to accommodate his bachelor guests. There's plenty of room there. If you stay, you can see Daisy in the morning."

  A simple decision suddenly. "You've got yourself an overnight guest. Although I'd better stop at the club first for a change of clothes, so I don't have to go to the beach with Hector in evening dress."

  The men accompanied him to the small veranda-framed clubhouse at the end of Bellevue Avenue and waited while he picked up the clothes he'd left there as replacement clothing between matches. Retracing their steps, the four tall men conversed in companionable fashion about polo and ponies, the fog shrouding them from all but each other, their voices drifting off into the wispy damp atmosphere. They separated at the main house, Kit and the Duc turning toward the bachelors' wing.

  "If you're rising early, breakfast is set up in the main floor dining room at seven," Hazard said. "Although hardly anyone wakes before eleven," he added in mild condemnation.

  "Including me," Kit cheerfully said. "Do not wake me for breakfast."

  "He was raised in the city," Hazard said, his grin indulgent, "which accounts for his society ways."

  "Hector's too young for society ways, yet, so I'll be up early. I'm seeing him at eight."

  The Duc wanted to ask if Daisy still rose earlier than the fashionable eleven o'clock, as she had when he knew her in Paris, but decided against it. He'd find out in the morning.

  * * *

  Daisy hadn't slept well.

  Between her frustration over Etienne's allure to women, particularly Nadine in this instance, and her own disastrously ardent response to him, her mind had been too full of conflict to sink into a deep slumber. She'd dozed fitfully, waking every few minutes, hoping the sun had risen so she could leave her bed. But exhausted by her restless night, she fell asleep just before dawn, waking with a start at seven.

  Morning. Finally. The summer sun shone brilliantly through the lace curtains, the chiming clock on the mantel trailed off on its last melodic vibration of the hour, her bedroom gleamed with lemon light. Throwing off the covers, she scrambled out of bed, knowing she had to get away, outside, anywhere… to distract her morbid thoughts. A ride on the seashore had the advantage of privacy and she had to be doing something, something physical, something requiring concentration, or at least an activity away from the frivolous perfumed Newport society. Did she dare think of Etienne? Or rather, was it possible to eliminate his powerful image from her mind? How humiliating her response last evening to Etienne's seduction, how much more humiliating would Nadine's discovery have been, she hated him and wanted him, she hated herself for succumbing so easily. But his kiss had been… wonderful and disastrous.

  Her confusion was total.

  In less than ten minutes, dressed simply in moccasins and leather leggings, a plain white shirt opened at her neck, her hair tied back with a leather thong, Daisy stood with her hand on the doorknob, hesitating.

  Her stomach was growling.

  She hadn't eaten last night at Nadine's, nor had she more than minimally at the Rutherfords' earlier, too agitated after having seen Etienne at the polo club that afternoon to have much appetite. If s
he called for breakfast in her room, its appearance would take longer than she cared to wait. Not certain she was in a suitably sociable mood considering her lack of sleep, she debated having breakfast downstairs. But another glance at the clock assured her—at this hour, she could almost be guaranteed solitude in the dining room.

  The hallway was empty when she stepped out of her room, the staircase, as well, while the two-story entrance hall, sunny under its domed skylight, was occupied by a single footman, half asleep in a chair. Seven-fifteen on a Newport morning definitely offered privacy. Humming a music hall tune all the rage that summer, she walked across the polished parquet and entered the large silent dining room.

  Even under heavy silver covers, the aroma of breakfast food drifted into her nostrils with gratifying seduction. Her stomach gurgled in anticipation as she walked over to the mahogany sideboard gleaming with Georgian silver. She was helping herself to a second slice of honey-drenched ham, her plate piled high with an unladylike amount of food, when the Duc walked in.

  "You don't belong here," she exclaimed, stupefied, the ham dripping honey in a widening puddle on the Irish-linen buffet cloth. How could Etienne be in her breakfast room, a half a mile from Nadine's at seven-fifteen in the morning? In a voice impolite and aghast, she breathed, "What are you doing here?"

  "Having breakfast. The laundress is going to wish you didn't like ham." His head inclined slightly in the direction of the dripping ham on her fork and he smiled.