"You promised to come and see us," she chastened him.
"And here I am," he replied with a smile.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it," she said, shaking her head. But she was too happy to quibble.
"Our city must agree with you," he said, looking her over from head to toe. "I wouldn't have believed it possible, but you're even more beautiful than ever."
"And you're looking rather handsome yourself," she said, dimpling as she returned his examination. "I hardly recognized you in that outfit."
Asa glanced down sheepishly at his newly purchased evening clothes. "I hardly recognize myself, but they wouldn't let me in here if I hadn't dressed the part."
Felicity laughed at his dismayed expression, making him chuckle in return.
"How is Josh these days?" he inquired then.
Felicity fought the swift stab of pain the mention of her husband caused and valiantly kept her smile in place. "He's fine… I guess. I… I haven't heard much from him lately," she said, avoiding Asa's perceptive gaze.
But he easily read her distress. "Is anything wrong?" he asked in genuine concern.
"Oh no," she assured him brightly. "I'm sure he's just busy with the roundup. You know how men can be about letter writing." She saw the worried look on his face and feared his probing questions. To distract him, she said, "Have you seen the pictures of Blanche?"
Asa's gaze followed her gesture to the photograph hanging nearby, and for a moment his eyes clouded. "That one is my favorite," he said softly, reminding Felicity that he had seen these pictures before, in Texas.
"I should have given you one," she said, wishing she had. "But somehow I thought you'd have the real thing to look at and wouldn't need it." Felicity put her hand on his arm. "What happened between you two?" She instantly regretted her question when she saw the pain flicker across his face, the pain of loss which she too easily recognized, but she had no chance to apologize. Richard was bearing down on them.
"Gordon, what are you doing here?" he demanded.
"Richard!" Felicity cried, protesting his rudeness. "Is that any way to speak to a guest?"
"If he is a guest," Richard said, his handsome face twisted in outrage. "I don't recall seeing his name on the guest list."
"Henry invited me," Gordon replied with a confident smile. "I'm sure if you ask him, he'll be glad to verify it," he added, glancing over toward the alcove where Henry Maxwell was seated, holding court with Dr. Strong hovering nearby, ready to send him off to bed if he showed any signs of fatigue.
Richard's gaze followed Gordon's, and at that moment Henry looked up. Seeing Gordon, he smiled and waved him over. "Excuse me, please. I'm being summoned," Asa said, still smiling. "Save me a dance later, won't you, Mrs. Logan?"
"Of course," Felicity replied, giving Richard a defiant glare. "And I want you to be my dinner partner, too," she added, ignoring Richard's horrified gasp.
"I would be honored," Asa said, grinning triumphantly at Richard before turning away.
"How could you, Felicity?" Richard demanded when they were alone. Richard was to have escorted Felicity to dinner.
"How could you?" she replied furiously. "You were unspeakably rude to Mr. Gordon."
"That man has no place here," Richard insisted.
"He's my friend," Felicity said. "I'll thank you to remember that the next time."
Richard opened his mouth to reply but caught himself just in time. This was exactly the kind of confrontation he had sought to avoid earlier. This evening was to be Felicity's triumph and, consequently, his own. Swallowing his anger, he dredged up a placating smile. "I'm sorry. You're absolutely right. I'm afraid that when I saw the two of you over here having an intimate tete-a-tete, I became so jealous' that I lost control of my reason for a moment."
"That was obvious," she replied, not placated a bit.
"I'll apologize to Mr. Gordon, too," Richard offered generously, although the words almost stuck in his throat. But at that moment he would have crawled over broken glass to restore himself to Felicity's good graces. He wanted nothing more than to make this the happiest night of her life.
"See that you do," she said, and started to turn away.
"Wait!" Richard called frantically. When she turned back, he summoned every ounce of boyish charm he possessed and asked humbly, "Would you prove that you have forgiven me and grant me the next dance?"
He really did look repentant, and Felicity was too softhearted to bear a grudge. Besides, he had been so good to her for so long, he was certainly entitled to one mistake. Felicity consented, giving him her hand and a warm smile of forgiveness. The dance was a waltz, and for the first few bars they moved together in silence. Richard, it seemed, had been successfully humbled. Or so she thought.
A moment later, he pulled her close and whispered, "I was right. You really are the most beautiful woman here."
His compliment touched a responsive chord deep within her. It had been a long time since a man had held her close and whispered sweet things, but Felicity could almost hear Joshua's voice saying those same words as his gray eyes smiled down on her, glittering with desire.
Richard's warm breath on her ear sent little shivers down her spine, and she made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They were brown, not gray, but they burned with the same intensity she had often seen in Joshua's. The same intensity that Joshua's eyes held in the photograph hanging nearby. The memory kindled an unnatural heat in her own body.
As if sensing her reaction, Richard pulled her closer still so that her breasts teased against his chest, sending a disturbing message coursing through her quickening blood. She drew a startled breath and inhaled his musky, masculine scent, a scent that stirred long-suppressed emotions to life.
Richard studied her face, easily reading those emotions. "It's awfully warm in here," he said after a moment. "Let's go out on the balcony for a while."
It was indeed warm, and Felicity readily agreed. She needed some fresh air to clear her senses and to break the erotic haze that seemed to be turning Richard into Joshua right before her eyes. But she had not counted on the intimacy of the quiet balcony or the romantic ambience of the warm spring night. Stepping out into the silent darkness seemed to enfold them in a very private, very peaceful cocoon.
Richard slipped his arm around her waist as they moved to the railing and stood looking out over the treetops of Rittenhouse Square. Felicity knew she should step out of his embrace, that she was courting danger to stand so close to him, but his arm felt natural and right around her. His nearness was a comfort, and she needed comfort from the heartache Joshua had caused her. She had gone too long without the touch of one who really cared for her.
"Felicity?" he whispered, and in that moment she knew he really did care for her. He loved her as she needed to be loved. Her mind whispered, "Joshua," but the thought was too painful, and she had to blot it out. She lifted her face in desperation as Richard's mouth came down on hers.
His kiss was infinitely sweet, offering solace against the agonizing emotions the evening's activities had evoked, and she surrendered to it. For too long she had been denied such tenderness, and as one parched with thirst, she drank in this soothing release.
But the tenderness lasted only a second. Feeling her response, Richard tightened his embrace and tried to deepen the kiss, tripping an alarm inside her head. This wasn't Joshua! What had she done? she wondered frantically. Suddenly frightened over her own lack of control, Felicity struggled free of him.
"Richard! You mustn't!" she gasped, as horrified at her own behavior as she was at his.
"I can't help myself!" he insisted earnestly, reaching for her again. "I love you, Felicity. You must know that."
She avoided his grasp, shaking her head in silent denial. But it wasn't his love she was denying. She did know of that. It was her own reaction to that love she wished to disavow. "Don't say that, Richard," she begged.