Realizing both Winnie and Sloan McCord were watching her, she looked up to find those arresting blue eyes fixed intently on her. “Mr. Randolf wishes to loan us his private car.”

“How thoughtful,” Winnie remarked.

“Tell Mr. Randolf,” Sloan said to the conductor, “that my wife and I cannot accept.”

Heather felt herself stiffen at his peremptory tone. “It is a wedding gift. He means it as an apology.”

Winnie’s brow wrinkled. “Actually, it might be rude to refuse.”

“Indeed it would,” Heather insisted, “which is why I don’t intend to.”

Sloan visibly clenched his teeth. “Then we’ll pay for its use.”

Heather stared at him in bewilderment, but received only a cold glance in return.

“Can you see Mrs. McCord to her quarters?” Sloan asked the conductor. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode off toward the ticket office.

“Oh, dear,” Winnie said worriedly. “Perhaps that was a mistake. I forgot how stubborn male pride can be.”

Heather repressed an even sharper remark, unwilling to discuss her conflict with her husband with the conductor looking on.

The conductor escorted them to a car toward the rear of the train. Once inside, Heather caught her breath at the ornate decoration. Gold wall sconces and gilded mirrors adorned the beige silk walls, while the brocade bed hangings and velvet chaise longue were hued a deep crimson.

“Oh, my,” was all Winnie said about such decadence.

Heather could only stare at the huge bed, thinking of her wedding night still to come.

The conductor set down her valises. “The train will depart in half an hour, ma’am.”

When he was gone, Winifred toured the car’s length, inspecting the furnishings in detail.

“I must admit this is a treat for me,” she said, shaking her head. “It isn’t often I get to board an iron horse, and even more rare that I get to see such riches. That Randolf does have excellent taste—but what a waste of good money.”

She kept up a trivial chatter to set Heather at ease, for which Heather was infinitely grateful. She regretted when the time came for Winnie to go.

They both shed tears as they clung to each other, knowing they would not see each other for a long while.

“I don’t like to leave you like this,” Winnie said, sniffing.

“I’ll be fine, truly.”

“I’ll miss you dreadfully, dear.”

“And I you, Winnie. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

“Pooh, it was nothing more than you would have done for me.”

When the train whistle blew another long and piercing blast, Winnie stepped down from the car and stood on the platform, hand raised to wave good-bye.