She couldn’t go on, but Jamie understood, she could see that. He closed his eyes and whispered, “Oh God, Duchess, I’m sorry.”

Bliss wept miserably, for Colin, for her grief-stricken mother, who had run away soon after the tragedy, for her angry father, for herself. She was drenched in sweat from head to foot, and with light, deft hands, Jamie divested her of her satin bloomers and camisole to go on drying her with the bit of cloth. His touch and his presence were soothing.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered just before sleep took her.

“No chance of that,” Jamie answered without hesitation.

The dream did not come again, but it left a raw place inside Bliss, as it always did, a hollowed-out, hurting place. When she awoke in the morning, she felt depleted and weak, and she was alone in the bed, though she could hear Jamie’s voice through the closed door of the bedroom.

She just couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Feeling a sudden and strange tension, Bliss tossed back the covers and swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. She crossed her arms over her naked breasts, certain that she’d gone to bed in her satin underthings.

Then she remembered Jamie’s arms holding her tightly after the dream, Jamie’s hands taking off her camisole and drawers when it truly seemed the clothes would smother her for sure, Jamie’s voice telling her that he was there with her. That she was safe.

Such a feeling of love came over Bliss in that moment that she knew she could never go to America, never leave Jamie. She might just as well drain the blood from her veins as try to live without him.

A woman’s laughter sounded from the room beyond. Frowning, Bliss found one of her new wrappers, a favorite of lavender corduroy, and put it on. Then, after pushing her hair back from her face, she opened the door and went out.

Jamie and Peony were sitting at a small, round table, which they’d dragged over into the light of the largest window, eating breakfast and chatting like any happily married couple. For that matter, Mrs. Ryan had yet to dress; she was wearing what appeared to be a peignoir of embossed satin. Even though she was sitting down, Bliss could tell that the garment accented every luscious curve.

She felt sick as she thought of Jamie and that woman together, and she swayed a little as she closed her eyes and struggled for composure.

It was at that moment that Jamie saw her, and he had the gall to behave as though everything were normal and right. “’Ello, Duchess,” he said happily. “Ready for some breakfast?”

Bliss couldn’t bear it. He’d comforted her so tenderly, and then left her to go to this woman, either in a nearby suite or this very one ....

“Duchess?” Jamie prompted, sounding worried now.

Bliss looked around desperately. Since her blue satin slippers were handy, she picked them up and flung them, first one, then the other. They bounced, in turn, off Jamie’s broad chest as he came closer and closer.