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or at least in New York, where their pursuit had taken on a more sinister aspect with the murder of Jocelyn’s American solicitor. But Vanessa had seemed to thrive on the adventure. And unlike Jocelyn, she had always wanted tosee 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 Pearson, 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 Philippe 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.
    At the most, five minutes had passed when Vanessa began again. “You aren’t worried about this tiny road we’re on, are you?”
    “It’s only a trail, I believe, and no, we seem to be descending now, so it shouldn’t go on much longer.”
    “Then you were brooding again,” Vanessa said with an I-knew-it smugness to her tone. “Not about that chap you had to leave behind in New York, I hope. I thought you had concluded you couldn’t marryhim until you had disposed of the little matter of your maidenhead?”
    Jocelyn didn’t blush as she had the first time her unusual predicament had become the topic of conversation. They had spoken of it so often since then, there was nothing left to blush about.
    “I haven’t changed my mind,” Jocelyn replied. “Charles knew of Edward, had even met him on his European tour. Under no circumstance would I allow Charles to become aware of Edward’s affliction. I won’t have Edward’s memory besmirched like that. And there isn’t any way Charles wouldn’t know of it if I married him—unless of course he has the same affliction, which is hardly likely as young as he is.”
    “And as sexually aggressive. You did say he cornered you in that bedroom and nearly—”
    “Yes, well, we both agreed he is more than capable of claiming all marital rights.”
    Jocelyn was blushing now. She hadn’t meant to confide that incident to Vanessa, but the older woman had pried it out of her as usual. Not that she was ashamed of what had happened. Charles had already proposed to her. And if she had drunk a little bit too much at that party and had let Charles seduce her because of it, there wasn’t anything so wrong in that considering how they had felt about each other. But that night she had forgotten about her predicament, and if Vanessa hadn’t come looking for her, which put an end to Charles’ passionate embraces, there wouldn’t be a problem anymore. Charles would have found out that the Duke of Eaton’s widow was still a virgin.
    “If you had loosened up in Morocco,” Vanessa reminded her now, “you could have had a nice little affair with that sheikh what’s-his-name who kept pursuing you. He didn’t know Edward, didn’t even know you were a widow, could barely even speak English, so it wouldn’t have made any difference. And all it takes is one lover, my dear, and your problem is over.”
    “It was too soon, Vanessa. I was still in mourning, if you’ll recall.”
    “I don’t see what that has to do with it. I hope you don’t think I waited a year after the earl passed on to take a lover. Goodness, no. A woman has needs every bit as strong as a