Fidelito had summoned her, excitement in his voice. “A visitor comes! Shall I ride out to meet them?”

“No, they’ll be here soon enough, Fidelito. Go and help your grandfather. Oh, and ask Matthew to come back to the house, please. It’s nearly time for the noon meal, and he’s to help Emily.”

Elizabeth Cady absently wiped her hands in the folds of her apron, eyeing the approaching vehicle with a slight frown. It was not familiar to her. On occasion, they had visitors to the ranch, but not usually in smart black broughams with drivers to handle the horses. It was too bad Martin had gone into town for the day. She always felt better when he was here, especially lately.

The baby was due any day and she tired easily now. There just wasn’t enough time in the day, and there was always something to do, cooking or cleaning or repairs. She didn’t resent it, and truly loved her husband and family, but there were moments when she longed for time to herself, time to read a book or just sit alone beneath a tree and dream.

Patting a loose curl back into place behind her ear, Beth smoothed her hands down her plain skirts and stepped off the porch to greet their visitor as the carriage rolled to a stop before the neat, two-story house.

The elegant young woman who stepped down took her by surprise, and she suddenly felt dowdy and clumsy in comparison to this exquisitely groomed creature. A lustrous cloud of copper hair was crowned with a small emerald-green hat tilted stylishly forward. The green velvet riding outfit she wore hugged slim curves in such a fashion as to appear provocative, though there was nothing inappropriate about the high neck. Her matching gloves and trim riding boots were the same rich shade of green reflected in the pair of exotically slanted eyes that regarded her curiously.

In a voice that bore faint traces of an unusual accent, the woman asked, “Are you Mrs. Burneson?”

Stifling the urge to rearrange her hair and try to hide the inevitable stains on her apron, Beth nodded. “Why yes, I am. But I’m afraid you have the advantage.”

“Yes, of course. This is rather unprecedented, but I feel that perhaps we should talk privately, if you don’t mind.”

Uneasy, Beth frowned. Her glance shifted beyond the carriage to the stableyard and she was relieved to see Domingo and Fidelito pretending to work while they watched over her. Her gaze moved back to the woman.

“I’m afraid that—”

“Please, Mrs. Burneson. It would mean a great deal to me if you would agree. My name is Virginia Morgan.”

“I’m sure I don’t know—” Beth stopped suddenly, the words sticking in her throat. Virginia Morgan…Steve’s wife!

As if reading her mind, the young woman’s head tilted slightly. “I think you have heard of me.”