Section I, Next Section

Prologue

From People Weekly, January 29, 199- Issue:

Olympic silver medallist Carl Denny, 33, wed Olympic bronze medallist Charlotte Lucas, 30, on January 20. Both won their medals for figure skating at the 199- Olympics and have since skated for Fire on Ice Tours. This is the first marriage for both, although Lucas was engaged to former entrepreneur John Thorpe last year...

A spokesman for Georgiana Darcy announced that the reigning gold medallist in women's figure skating married Bret Sullivan last May. Darcy, 19, and Sullivan, 27, met in London at last year's World Championships. It is the first marriage for both. It was also announced that Darcy had given birth to the couple's first child, a daughter named Bridget Elena, on December 15...

From People Weekly, February 5, 199- Issue:

Former pairs figure skater and gold medallist Caroline Bingley, 27, and husband James Hampton, 34, famed sportscaster for the Network, announced that they are expecting a child at the end of June. This will be the first child for both, who married last March...

From The National Enquirer, February 19, 199- :

Olympic gold medallist Richard Fitzwilliam has been rumored to be making a number of trips to the Seattle area of late. The men's skater, who dated Lydia Bennet briefly prior to her death, has apparently found a new love at last. Although no one has seen the couple together, sources close to Fitzwilliam say that the lucky lady is Miss Amy Lucas, younger sister of Charlotte Lucas, who won a bronze medal at the last Olympic games...

From Sports Illustrated, March 3, 199- Issue: Golden Dreams, Silver Linings

The American figure skaters came into these Olympics hoping to repeat their performance at the last Winter Olympics-an unprecedented American sweep of gold medals in all four disciplines. Last year, they may have had a chance, with the one-two punch of reigning gold medallists Georgiana Darcy and Richard Fitzwilliam leading the way. Elizabeth Bennet and Fitz Darcy were skating with such dominance that it appeared nothing could get in their way. Meanwhile, newcomers to the ice dancing world, Marianne and Michael Brandon made waves with their innovative program and came close to winning their first World championship last year.

Things started out well, with Lizzy Bennet winning her first and Fitz Darcy winning his second gold medal in a runaway. No one came close to touching their performance. Skating to music from the film "Ever After," the pair put to rest the rumors that Lizzy Bennet was jinxed once and for all.

Unfortunately, things didn't stay so good for the Americans. Richard Fitzwilliam skated erratically throughout the skating season and was upset at the U.S. Championships by Henry Tilney. During the short program, Fitzwilliam was able to skate cleanly while Tilney suffered a fall on his triple axel combination, costing him a place on the podium. During the artistic program, Fitzwilliam himself fell on his signature move, the quadruple lutz, giving England's Frederick Wentworth enough space to win his first gold medal with a clean skate, which he did.

In the ice dancing competition, the Brandons skated as well if not better than anyone else on the ice, but in spite of having the crowd firmly on their side, could place no better than third. The gold medal went to the more mechanical but more conventional performance of Daria Alexandrova and Dmitri Illianovich.

Georgiana Darcy disappeared a few weeks after last year's Worlds and when she reappeared, she was married with a newborn baby, leaving her out of the Olympics. Stepping into her place was Anne Elliot, who at 26 was determined to be this Olympics' Charlotte Lucas. Elliot won the U.S. Championships, but faced heavy competition with the return of silver medallist Helena Hampton from Canada, England's Louisa Thurston, who was determined to redeem herself after a fall in the short program four years ago, Catie Morland, who came out of nowhere to become the World champion last year, and sixteen-year-old jumping sensation Maggie Dashwood, who reminded many of the late Lydia Bennet.

Dashwood's dreams ended when she crashed into the boards during practice and broke her leg three weeks prior to the games. Morland stumbled through her short program and seemed to lose her nerve during the artistic program, opting to do doubles when she needed triples to win. She finished well out of the medals. Thurston made it through the short program well but fell attempting a triple axel in the artistic program and finished third. Hampton skated well, but was again disappointed in her second attempt to win a gold medal when Elliot out-jumped her and stole the show with her artistry....

From Figure Skating International, May 199- Issue:

Men's figure skating gold medallist Frederick Wentworth has become an overnight sensation. The thirty-year-old skater came late to the sport, preferring ice hockey until he was involved in a car accident at the age of nine. The accident killed his parents, Adam and Stacey Wentworth, and damaged his peripheral vision.

"I was lucky I didn't go blind," Wentworth says in one of the rare statements he's made about the accident. "But I loved the ice. I couldn't play hockey anymore, but I still wanted to be out there, doing something. My sister suggested figure skating and although I was a bit reluctant to do it, I decided to try it out."

Twenty-one years and a lot of sacrifices later, Wentworth did what many thought would be impossible-he defeated reigning gold medallist Richard Fitzwilliam and won the gold for England.

"I couldn't believe it when it happened," Wentworth says. "I have great respect for Rich and everything he's done. Even after he fell in the long program, I didn't think I stood a chance. When the numbers came up, I just couldn't believe that I had won.

"Rich was a pretty good sport about it, though. I know he had to be devastated when he found out, but he was among the first to come up and congratulate me. There was no animosity in him at all. I think having him do that made it official in my mind. If he hadn't, I would probably still be walking around in a state of disbelief..."

...There are a few disadvantages to becoming a hero, Wentworth says. "Whenever I'm out in public, I'm forever being besieged with requests for autographs. I try to be as gracious as I can, but it does get rather frustrating when I'm trying to eat and there's someone wanting to say what a good job I've done."

It has also made things a difficult on his longtime girlfriend, Hannah Musgrove. "Hannah's a lovely girl," he says, "but she does get put out a bit by the women who come up to me and ask all sorts of personal questions and make propositions. I think it would be a bit much to ask anyone to take, and yet Hannah rarely complains."

He dodges the inevitable question about marriage, smiling mysteriously and saying, "Perhaps someday."

What Wentworth is not shy talking about are the rumors that he once dated ladies' gold medallist Anne Elliot. Wentworth flatly denies it.

"What rubbish," he says. "I'm not saying she isn't a lovely girl, because as far as I know she is, but there has never been anything special between us. We see each other every so often at these competitions because it's impossible not to see each other. Eight years ago, she came to England for a summer and the rumors have been flying ever since."

From Figure Skating International, June 199- Issue:

On the surface, Anne Elliot seems the last person in the world to have won an Olympic gold medal. Quiet, shy, unassuming, Elliot admits to having a fear about performing in front of crowds and despises what she calls the "hype" that has surrounded skating over the past several years. While she does have the pedigree-her mother won a gold medal in pairs skating and was a successful coach until her death from cancer ten years ago while her father won three silvers in men's skating-Elliot herself says she was the least likely to win.

"I've always felt that the best time to be skating was when you were alone, in an empty rink, with just your music and your ability for company," she says quietly. "I always figured my older sister would win the gold. I was just content to skate."

Indeed, her older sister, Alyssa Elliot, was groomed to become the next Great American Hope in ladies' figure skating before Lydia Bennet and Georgiana Darcy came along. But many say her arrogance led her to believe she didn't need practice and a daily health regimen, which made her out of shape and unable to complete even the simplest of jumps. She faded out of sight well before the last Olympics. Many thought Anne would be the same way.

Instead, she slowly won over fans with her dedication to the sport. She may not impress greatly at first, but over time she has caught the attention of many judges with her passionate skating and her poise on the ice.

All that dedication paid off in February when she skated her way to the gold medal. But most would be shocked to hear that she almost decided not to compete.

"It wasn't the fear that kept me away, because I've been able to control that with relaxation and meditation," Elliot says. "I just wasn't sure I was good enough."

Although Elliot refuses to confirm or deny the rumors that her sister was furious when Elliot chose to compete-and was even more furious when she won-it's common knowledge that Alyssa Elliot has never been a gracious loser.

One skating insider, who asked not to be named, said, "It doesn't matter that Alyssa Elliot hasn't been skating for nearly four years. She still thinks she's in competition, especially with her own sister. Anne's victory is a poke in the eye to her, and she deserves it.

"I heard Anne saying that she didn't want to compete because she didn't think she was good enough. It wasn't just poor self-esteem talking, it was her sister and her father talking. That poor girl lost her best support when her mother died, because Patricia Elliot was the only person who believed in her skating. She's had to go it on her own ever since then.

"No disrespect to the other ladies who skated that night, but I think the gold medal went to the person who deserved it the most. Anne might not have been the most talented skater out there, but she worked the hardest and she went through the most. I'm thrilled to death that she won..."

...Elliot says she has "little time for romance" and emphatically denies the persistent rumor that she dated men's gold medallist Frederick Wentworth eight years ago.

"I don't know where these things start," Elliot says. "Susan [Russell, Elliot's coach] and I spent one summer in England training with him and learning from his coach, James Benwick. I was there to learn, nothing more.

"I don't think I'll have a serious relationship until I decide to leave skating altogether. I've seen skaters who have trouble balancing family and their skating. One or the other ends up suffering, and I don't think I could make the choice. I love skating too much.

"It would take a very special man to make me want to take the chance, and in all my years of skating I have yet to meet him..."

From Entertainment Weekly, April 21, 199- Issue, News & Notes:

Right now, the hottest book in town belongs to Bret Sullivan. Sullivan, a former Chicago Tribune writer, gave up his floundering career in sports journalism to write "Snapshots of an American Family." The book is currently the subject of a fast and furious auction between three publishers and is almost certain to be optioned by one of the major movie studios...

Fire on Ice Tour Coming to a Town Near You!

The popular figure skating tour is back following a period of uncertainty due to the former promoter's legal troubles. George Knightley, who owned the Fire on Ice franchise for several years before selling to John Thorpe, has agreed to take on the business once again in spite of the fact that he originally sold the tour in order to start a family with his wife, former figure skater Emma Woodhouse. The couple has two children-Julia, 6, and Matthew, 3 1/2.

The following skaters have confirmed that they have signed on with the Fire on Ice tour:

Fitz Darcy and Lizzy Bennet, Charlotte Lucas, Carl Denny, Anne Elliot, Frederick Wentworth, Helena Hampton, Richard Fitzwilliam, Louisa Thurston, Michael and Marianne Brandon, Jane and Charles Bingham, William Collins, Marc Gercourt, Marie Roi, Emma Woodhouse.

The rumor that Georgiana Darcy will join her brother on the tour has not been confirmed. A spokesman for Darcy says she hasn't ruled it out but would prefer to stay at home with her husband and infant daughter.

Part 1

Richard Fitzwilliam hadn't been an early riser for much of his career, but about a year ago he started getting into the habit of being the first person to the rink. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the camaraderie of being with his fellow skaters, because he did. He'd always been an unreserved, outgoing man, and he still was, despite the tragedy which had struck his life last year.

But there was something about being the first person at the rink, something about the look of the fresh ice, smoothed by the Zamboni machine and untouched by blades, that drew him to it every day. He enjoyed the feeling of privacy that being alone granted him. He enjoyed being the first out on the ice, the feel of it as he skated across, the soft sound coming from blade meeting ice. There was no music, no talking, no competition between rival skaters intruding in his little world.

There was just a man on the ice, doing what he loved to do.

By the time the first skaters of the day trickled in, Rich was at peace with himself. Spending half an hour at the rink by himself was better than any meditation tape.

Rich took the blade guards off his skates and stepped onto the ice. He took a deep breath of the cold, crisp air and smiled. Perfect.

He made slow circles around the ice, one foot in front of the other, doing no spins or jumps. There would be more than enough time for that later. Rich kept his mind free and calm, thinking of little more than the repetitive motion of his legs as he circled the ice. If he thought of anything else, he was bound to stop and that would throw off his new-found routine.

But there was that little matter with Amy.

Before he knew it, Rich was stopping and frowning at himself. What brought that up? he wondered. Then he decided that he only thought about her because he'd told himself not to think about her and continued skating.

Usually, when Rich did this, the only thing going through his mind was music. It was only natural, he supposed, since music played such a vital role in his skating. Whatever music went through his head was usually a reflection of the mood he was in that day.

I want love, but it's impossible
A man like me, so irresponsible
A man like me is dead in places
Other men feel liberated

I can't love, shot full of holes
Don't feel nothing, I just feel cold
Don't feel nothing, just old scars
Toughening up around my heart

But I want love, just a different kind
I want love, won't break me down
Won't brick me up, won't fence me in
I want a love, that don't mean a thing
That's the love I want
I want love

I want love on my own terms
After everything I've ever learned
Me, I carry too much baggage
Oh man I've seen so much traffic

But I want love, just a different kind
I want love, won't break me down
Won't brick me up, won't fence me in
I want a love, that don't mean a thing
That's the love I want
I want love

So bring it on, I've been bruised
Don't give me love that's clean and smooth
I'm ready for the rougher stuff
No sweet romance, I've had enough...

Rich should've known thinking of Amy Lucas was going to put him in this kind of mood. Well, hell, it was his own fault for choosing to skate to that song.

It wasn't that there was anything wrong with Amy, because there wasn't. She was a great girl. She was bright, opinionated, funny, and very attractive. When he'd been in Seattle for her sister Charlotte's wedding to Carl Denny, he'd been interested enough to ask her out on a date. She'd accepted, and things had gone well.

Unfortunately for him, when he'd asked her out again, Amy hadn't been quite so interested. When he'd asked why, she'd told him she didn't think it was a good idea for her to get involved in a long-distance relationship, which was what it would be. Her life was in Seattle. His was in Chicago training, or just about anywhere else when he wasn't.

In his heart, Rich knew her reservations were right. She was still in college and had talked about going to grad school. He'd just made the decision to turn pro, which meant that rather than mostly being in Chicago, he'd be all over the map. She was young and despite suffering from heartbreak was still a bit innocent. Rich had been through three hellacious trips through the Tunnel of Love and had nothing good to say about it.

But still, it wouldn't have hurt for them to have gone a second date, would it?

Perhaps it was for the best. It had barely been a year since Lydia's death, slightly longer than that since Helena had left him for that Irish doctor or whoever the hell he was, and who knew but that he wasn't still carrying a torch for Lizzy?

Maybe Amy had realized all that and decided he wasn't worth the risk. He really couldn't blame her for that, because if he'd been in her shoes, he wouldn't have risked it either.

And why he was still thinking of a girl who had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him was beyond him. It wasn't like they'd been dating forever. They'd been on exactly one date, although they had spent the rest of the evening of the wedding sitting in a hotel room talking about everything under the sun. But even that shouldn't have been enough for her to still be playing on his mind four months after the fact.

Fortunately for Rich, Lizzy and Fitz arrived to take his mind off of that puzzle.

"Okay, tell me again why we agreed to do this," Elizabeth Bennet Darcy muttered as her husband drove into the parking lot of the rink.

"Because it's good money. We both like George Knightley a lot more than John Thorpe. Because it'll give us a chance to catch up with Charlotte and Carl. Because I'm hoping our presence will continue to encourage Georgiana to stick with her skating. Would you like me to continue?"

"No, I think you covered all the bases. When do we leave?"

"Seven o'clock tonight. We're supposed to meet with our fellow tourists for a celebratory luncheon tomorrow."

"What are we celebrating?"

"The fact that Fire on Ice Tours is back on the road. What is it with you today, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth bit her lip nervously, not sure if she wanted to tell her husband what was 'with her,' as he put it. He'd probably think she was being silly.

"I'm sorry," she said softly as he killed the engine.

Fitz turned to face her. "It's obviously something that's upsetting you, Lizzy. For the past three days you've been on edge. Is it me? Something I did? Did I say the wrong thing to Georgie? Did I offend Bret somehow?"

"No, no." Lizzy took his hand in hers. "It's not you. It's me, and really, it's nothing to get concerned about."

Fitz leaned over and kissed her gently. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It's the wrong time of the month, so the hormones are kicking in."

"Aren't you the one who always says that PMS is a cop-out women use to get away with murder?"

"I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me."

That brought a smile to Fitz's lips, which relieved Lizzy's mind greatly. She opened her car door and got out, reaching into the back seat to grab her duffel bag. She shut the door once everything was out and started walking to the front door.

"One of these mornings, we're going to beat Richard to the rink," Fitz muttered, pointing at the snazzy racing-red Corvette parked in the lot.

"We're lucky we get here before noon," Lizzy replied.

Fitz stopped walking and turned to smile at her. "And whose fault is that, Mrs. Darcy?" he asked teasingly.

"Yours, sir. All yours. I seem to remember being an early riser before I married you." She put her arm around his waist and they continued walking together.

"What?! I seem to remember you were late to half of our regular practice sessions before we got married. I was there early every day."

"Teacher's pet. You were only showing off for Edward." She poked him in the ribs.

"Hey!" Fitz yelped. "You would do me bodily harm right before we venture forth to make enough money to retire on?"

"You deserved that."

"Okay, but if we don't make enough money to pay for our tenth child's college education because you damaged me, you have only yourself to blame."

Fitz had meant it as a joke, but Lizzy didn't laugh. Fitz didn't take much notice as he opened the door for her. She thanked him softly and tried not to let him see the hurt.

She didn't want him to know that she was worrying about the fact that she wasn't pregnant.

"Excellent, Georgiana! Just excellent!" Edward Gardiner called to Georgiana Sullivan as she completed a perfect sit spin. With a graceful flourish, she dug her toe picks into the ice and threw her hands over her head in victory.

"Thank you very much," she replied, beaming. She skated over to the boards where he was waiting and came to a stop. "Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"I will admit to having a few doubts when you insisted on coming back so soon after having Bridget," Edward said, handing her a bottle of water.

"You're not the only one." Georgiana greedily took a drink. "That first practice, I told myself I was nuts. Thank God for Fitz and Lizzy, though. If it hadn't been for them, I probably would've chucked all this for good."

"Only until you remembered how much you loved skating. Even when you were having trouble, you still had that look on your face when you first entered the rink."

"What look?"

"You were longing to be out there yourself. I've recognized that feeling in myself often enough."

Georgiana took another drink and thought back to that late January morning, a few days after she and Bret had moved back to Chicago from St. Louis, when she'd set foot on the ice for the first time in nearly a year. She'd been terribly out of practice and had fallen ten times in half an hour. She'd left the rink in tears, telling herself that she must've been delusional to think she could actually do this. She'd just had a baby, for God's sake. She was never going to be the fairy-like Georgiana Darcy again.

But the next day, she'd only fallen nine times, and every day after that, she got a little better. She might not have skated in a year, but after fourteen years of skating, her body began to remember what to do. She lost the last of her baby fat through rigorous workouts, which had helped her jumping immensely in a world where just a pound or two could make the difference between victory and defeat.

Even as she thought in terms of "victory and defeat," however, she began to see her skating future in a different light. She wasn't going to be returning to the Olympic-eligible ranks, which meant her skating programs didn't have to be so athletic. She didn't have to have seven triples in her long programs anymore. She could focus on the more artistic side of skating, which had always been her strength, anyway.

With the help of Lizzy's father, Thomas Bennet, Georgiana put together a program she adored, skating to the Intermezzo of Cavalleria Rusticana. She had always loved that piece of music, for it seemed to speak to her as no other piece of music had. The program was a work of art and something she was extremely proud of.

When the offer had come from George Knightley to skate in the Fire on Ice Tour, Georgiana had been excited but prudent. While she couldn't wait to get back into skating, she had a husband and child to think about. It wouldn't be fair of her to leave them behind to skate as though they'd never happened, because they were the best things in her life.

George, brilliant man that he was, solved that problem very quickly.

"I see no problem why your husband can't travel with us," he said. "And as for your daughter, well, Emma's hired a nanny to watch over our children while she's performing. Mrs. Caldwell's a lovely woman, English, loves children. I'm sure she'd have no problem with Bridget."

After talking it over with Bret, she decided to accept the offer to skate in the tour.

She prayed she was ready. She feared she wouldn't be.

"Why won't you tell me what you're skating to?" Charlotte Lucas Denny begged her husband.

"Because it's a surprise," Carl Denny replied calmly as they skated together across the ice. "And I want to see your face the first time you see me skate to it in New York."

"I don't know how you can skate with no music," she muttered.

"It's quite easy, sweetheart. I've listened to the song so many times and I've practiced the routine so often when you weren't around that I know it by heart."

Charlotte pretended to pout for about thirty seconds before letting her breath out in a huff and saying, "Well, fine. I'll stop pestering you about it."

Carl snorted. "I doubt that happens anytime soon."

Charlotte grinned. "You know me so well, darling."

"Of course."

Carl held Charlotte's hands as they continued to circle the ice and wondered how on earth he'd ever gotten so lucky as to get to marry this woman. Lord knew, he'd made more than his fair share of mistakes with her, beginning with not telling her how he really felt before she got engaged to that slime, John Thorpe. Then he'd had a one-afternoon-stand with Georgiana Darcy which had gotten her pregnant. And finally, he'd been so cowardly that he couldn't tell Charlotte how he felt until she was in a coma, lingering near death for several days. Thank God she'd heard him one night or else he might not be married to her now.

"Charlotte?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know that tomorrow we will have been married four months?"

"Really?"

"Yes. Tomorrow's May twentieth." Carl knew Charlotte was quite aware of how long they'd been married. Every minute of it had been heaven for him.

"One more thing to celebrate in New York, then."

"Right." Damn. Carl had completely forgotten about having to fly to New York this afternoon for the luncheon tomorrow. He'd been hoping to spend the day at home, in bed, with his wife.

Charlotte grinned at him. "Don't look so down about it, Carl. We'll have plenty of time for whatever it was you were just thinking about after lunch."

"No we won't, because Rich and Lizzy and Fitz will insist on us going out for the evening, and Emma will want to relive old times and then there's the newcomers to get used to."

"Newcomers? Anne Elliot and Frederick Wentworth are hardly newcomers, Carl. They've been around for a long time."

"Newcomers to the tour, though. And seeing someone a few times a year hardly counts as making friends."

"I suppose you have a point."

"Charlotte!"

Charlotte and Carl both stopped skating at the same time, turning to see Charlotte's younger sister Amy stepping out onto the ice, hanging onto the boards for dear life.

"Stop there, Amy! We'll come over to you!" Charlotte called, skating quickly across the length of the ice before Amy had a chance to get any further. Amy was a complete klutz on skates, and the last time she'd tried it she'd broken her left leg in two places.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. I can do this!" Amy snapped, but the moment she let go of the boards, down she went.

"Amy!" Charlotte cried when her sister was slow to get up. She skidded to a stop on her knees beside her and asked, "Are you all right?"

Amy had tears in her eyes. "I'm fine," she said.

"What's so important that you had to skate out here to tell us?" Carl asked, coming to a slow stop in front of them.

"Do you think...is it possible...that I could join you guys this summer?"

Charlotte was grateful she was already sitting. Amy, the planner who wanted everything in place before she did anything, was wanting to spend her summer running around following them?

"But I thought you had your internship all straightened out," Carl said quietly. "Did it fall through at the last minute?"

Amy looked down at the ice. "No, it's in place. I'm supposed to start next week, but...but..."

Charlotte knew that something was bothering her sister. Amy had an internship working at a group home for mentally ill adults, one she'd been angling for since last October. When she'd gotten it in early February, she'd been so thrilled that she'd treated the entire family to dinner at their favorite French restaurant.

Now she was looking to give it up?

"Do Mamma and Papa know about this?" Charlotte asked.

"I told Papa, and all he said was, 'Amelia cara, you must do what you must.'" Amy sighed. "Mamma was less than happy about it. She said I probably wouldn't be able to come along, anyway."

"But why do you want to come with us?" Charlotte asked.

Amy looked at Charlotte, then at Carl. And when she spoke, her words were directed at Carl. "Did you ever have the feeling that you'd done something really wrong and you had to correct it?"

"Once or twice," Carl said with a straight face.

"Did you ever think that you missed an opportunity and that maybe, only maybe, there was a chance to make things right again, but only one chance?"

"For God's sake, Amy, cut it out with the theatrics and tell us why you want to go," Charlotte said in frustration.

"Rich Fitzwilliam asked me out on a second date back at the end of January, and I turned him down. I didn't think it was a good idea to start a long-distance relationship and I told him so. And at the time, I believed it."

"Now you don't?" Carl asked.

Amy shook her head. "A couple of weeks after I got the internship, I was making my plans for the summer and for no reason at all, I thought about him. And once he was on my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about him. It got to where I didn't even care about the internship."

"You could call him. I have his number," Carl told her.

"I know I could've called him, but...I think I might've offended him by telling him I wasn't interested in him, and the only way to make that right again is to see him. So I want to come along with you guys. I don't care how much it ends up costing me."

"Papa will be thrilled with that."

"Papa is already talking about me in terms of 'old maid.'" Amy grinned wickedly. "Why did you have to go and get married, Charlotte? There wasn't so much pressure on the rest of us before you did."

"Thanks a lot," Charlotte said good-naturedly. "But shouldn't the next in line be Mariah?"

Amy snorted. "The way she and Jeremy look at each other, I don't think it'll be too long before they're married."

"Wasn't he your date to the wedding?" Carl asked.

"He was only there for Mariah," Amy replied. "So, what do you think? Would it be possible for me to join the two of you?"

"You'd have to make your own arrangements," Charlotte said. "You're not sharing a room with us."

"Ugh. Wouldn't dream of it," Amy said.

"Other than that, I would love to have you along. And I think Rich would like it, too."

Amy beamed. "I hope you're right, Charlotte. I really do."

"Are you sure you don't want to come along, darling?" Frederick Wentworth asked as he placed the last of his bags in the back seat of his car. Once he'd done so, he shut the car door and brushed his slightly-too-long raven hair out of his sky blue eyes. "I know it might be a bit of trouble, but I'm sure we could work it out so you could be with me."

"No, no," Hannah Musgrove insisted. "I'm content to stay here, though I will miss you dreadfully."

"I'll miss you more." Frederick cupped her face in his hands and bent down to kiss her firmly. Hannah placed her hands around his waist and pulled him closer to her.

When they broke the kiss, Hannah smiled. "You know, I believe you shall. I guess this means I do not have to worry about the dozen or so females who can do a better triple lutz than I catching your eye."

"If I were interested in any female who could do a triple lutz, I wouldn't be here with you now, so what does that tell you?"

"Oh? Not even the indomitable Miss Elliot?"

Frederick's smile faded. "Especially not her. I don't know why that journalist, if that's what you could call her, asked both of us whether or not we had been seeing each other. I don't know why an eight-year-old relationship that didn't even exist is such a fascination. And I certainly don't know where she got the idea that we..."

"If you're not careful, Freddie, someone's going to think you're protesting too much. If one were to listen to you, they might think you had something to hide." Hannah's eyes looked too knowing and Frederick took a step back.

"It's not because of that. My concerns are for her reputation, and mine. When the rumors first surfaced about us, they said some rather nasty things about the both of us. I was called a flirt and a jilt, and as for her..." Frederick sighed. "It was worse for her. I always suspected that that sister of hers was partially to blame, but no one could ever prove anything. I doubt Anne would've believed it if she'd ever thought it."

"So why the vehement protestations?"

"Because I don't want that surfacing again. She's a lovely girl and very talented. The last thing she needs at this point in her career is an old so-called scandal haunting her. God knows, it's not something I need, either." Frederick saw the suspicion ease a bit and knew it was time to be charming. "As for the rest of them, they are mostly married or otherwise engaged. You have nothing to fear. And if you change your mind or suffer a sudden attack of jealousy, call me and I shall arrange for you to fly out."

Hannah smiled. "I have a feeling I might suffer from something, but it won't be jealousy. Loneliness, lack of companionship, lack of attention, certainly. But not jealousy."

"Excellent," Frederick replied. "You do promise to wait for me, don't you? You won't be seduced by some sweet-talking sheep farmer while I'm in America, will you?"

"And where would I be meeting a sheep farmer, may I ask?"

"Well, I don't know. But you might."

Hannah laughed. "Don't worry. I shall be right here at the end of the summer when you come home again."

"That's all I wanted to hear." Frederick kissed her one last time before staring into her eyes for a good minute. This was something of a tradition from the first time they'd been apart for a good length of time. He always told her that he was memorizing everything about her so that he would have something to remember during the lonely nights. "Goodbye, my darling Hannah."

"Goodbye, Frederick."

Frederick climbed into the car and started the engine. Giving her one last look and wave, he drove off, watching her in the rearview mirror.

As soon as he had turned the corner away from her house, he sighed, though whether it was in frustration or relief he couldn't say.

You couldn't honestly have thought she wouldn't bring it up. You're getting ready to spend three months with the woman, for God's sake. Of course Hannah's going to wonder. Everyone else has.

Frederick cursed loudly and smacked the steering wheel hard. Why, of all the women in the world, did Anne Elliot have to win the gold medal this year? Why did she have to suddenly change her mind about not joining skating tours, when all along she denounced them as watering-down skating for the masses? Why did she have to resurface in his life now, when he'd forgotten about her years ago?

He made a vicious turn, nearly going airborne. The first question wasn't fair of him to ask and he knew it. Frederick knew better than anyone just how hard Anne had worked to get where she was. She had been bullied into the sport by her father, who refused to accept that any of his three daughters might not be interested in becoming a figure skater. Anne had endured the hell of being considered the lesser of the three Elliot sisters, not having Alyssa's showmanship or Maralys' raw talent. She had endured losing her mother at sixteen. She had endured all the crap Alyssa put her through. And in the end, she'd been the one to win. Alyssa had stopped training properly and Maralys rebelled against her father's harsh edicts by marrying an accountant and settling in a small town in Nebraska. Of the three of them, the least likely to succeed, Anne, had won.

He had no answer to his second question. Frederick had no idea why Anne had decided to join the Fire on Ice Tour, because even eight years ago she hadn't liked them. Behind that cool elegance lay a fierce competitor. She believed that if you weren't prepared to skate your best, you shouldn't bother putting on skates. Skating shows, in her opinion, were where talented skaters got paid a lot of money and skated half-heartedly.

"But more people get to enjoy skating," Frederick had protested when they'd talked about it. "It allows people who don't live in an Olympic host city to see us. It allows skaters to connect with their fans, and for fans to connect with their favorites. And it allows skaters to do things they wouldn't get away with in competitions."

"Like fewer jumps and flashy choreography. That's not what skating's about," she had retorted.

Frederick nearly missed his turn, slamming on the brakes and earning rude gestures from the people behind him as he turned. Thinking about Anne Elliot was not a good idea, he told himself sternly. It never had been.

Still, as he continued his drive, he couldn't help wondering about question three, which wasn't actually a fair question. The reason it wasn't always left him feeling guilty. He'd been with Hannah for so long, and yet...

And yet he'd never been able to banish Anne Elliot from his heart, or his mind, or his soul. She was as integral a part of him as skating was, because she was the one part of his past that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget. He couldn't forget one magical summer eight years ago when he thought anything was possible. He'd believed it, too, right up until the day she'd left England-and him.

Frederick thought back on that interview of hers he'd read. The same journalist interviewed them both. The same question was asked. Not surprisingly, her answer was the same as his. Unlike him, however, she'd gone a little further in explaining her denial. Her words had cut him to the quick.

"I don't think I'll have a serious relationship until I decide to leave skating altogether. I've seen skaters who have trouble balancing family and their skating. One or the other ends up suffering, and I don't think I could make the choice. I love skating too much.

"It would take a very special man to make me want to take the chance, and in all my years of skating I have yet to meet him..."

It only made him angrier with himself, because it made two things perfectly obvious to him. First, she had obviously gotten over him much easier than he had gotten over her. And second, that she'd never felt that strongly about him in the first place.

Anne Elliot sat on the plane that was flying her to New York, where the tour was beginning, and wondered what she'd gotten herself into. For someone who professed to hate the glitz and glamour of skating, she'd done a good job of throwing herself in the path of just such a debacle.

Anne ran a hand through her frizzy pale blonde curls. She knew how she'd ended up here. After winning the gold medal, the rational part of her mind had completely evaporated, leaving a bubble-headed creature who was excited about the almost-obscene amount of money she was being paid to join the Fire on Ice Tour. She was amazed that she had managed to escape the Disneyland trap. The last thing she ever would have wanted to see herself doing was answering the question, "Anne Elliot, you just won an Olympic gold medal! What are you going to do now?"

But she'd agreed to join the tour. She'd even signed a contract to that effect. Now she was stuck with it and everything else that was going to happen as a result.

Would you get off this impending doom kick? It's not like he's going to acknowledge your presence. He hasn't in eight years.

Anne closed her eyes and thought back to the recent Olympics. She'd been there to see him skate, of course. Whenever they were at a competition together, she always secreted herself in the crowd and saw him perform, always feeling that little glow of pride in her heart when he did well, always feeling sorry when he didn't.

And all this despite the fact that he'd made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. Not once had she seen him at the rink when she skated, nor had she ever gotten that feeling she had when he was near. Anne told herself she was a fool ten times over, but she still believed she knew he was in the building because she got prickles on the back of her neck.

Eight years, and she still hadn't forgotten him. She could remember the first time they'd met.

"I don't think anyone's coming," Anne told her coach, Susan Russell, resignedly as they scoured the airport for their ride.

"Well, isn't this typical. They invited us here so you could learn from him and he could learn from you and now they're not even giving us the common courtesy of meeting us at the airport!" Susan huffed.

"Maybe they're held up in traffic," Anne suggested. "Maybe they got the flight wrong, or-"

"No, no. I told that boy ten times that we would be here at nine-thirty and here we are. And where is he? Nowhere to be found!" Susan sat down, tossing her bags down in disgust. "I have half a mind to get the next flight home."

Anne bit her lip but didn't say anything. Susan looked at her and smiled wryly.

"That wouldn't do you any good, though," Susan admitted. "And what kind of coach would I be if I didn't do everything in my power to make you the best skater in the world? What sort of friend would I be to your mother if I allowed you to miss any opportunity?"

Anne felt tears well up in her eyes, as so often happened when her mother was mentioned. Two years dead, but Anne still missed her so much her heart ached.

Anne had lost so much more than her mother when Patricia died. She'd lost her confidante, her dearest friend, her coach, her support system...

Thank God for Susan, her mother's best friend since childhood. If it hadn't been for her, Anne would probably have given up on skating for all the encouragement she got from her father. Now that was a study in hypocrisy-a man who insisted his daughters skated but then screamed insults at them when they tried to live up to his impossible expectations.

Well, actually, he only yelled at Anne and Maralys. And lately, only at Anne.

"I only wish I could've convinced your father that you deserved to go to Boston to train with Catherine de Bourgh," Susan said regretfully. "She wanted you, you know."

Anne sighed and took a seat beside her coach. "No, she didn't. She wanted Maralys because of her talent, and Alyssa for her style. She didn't see anything special in me."

"Of course she did."

"No, Susan, she didn't." Anne took her coach's hand and squeezed it affectionately. "But I thank you for trying to spare my feelings. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't have gone to Lady Cat if she'd been on her knees begging me to go."

"But Anne! She's one of the preeminent coaches in figure skating! She's molded world champions!"

"She's almost as bad as..." Anne hesitated to criticize her father even to Susan, who knew the truth. "I'm happy with you."

Just then, Anne spied a young man with raven-black hair darting around crowds of people. He skidded to a stop in front of their terminal, his blue eyes darting around, looking worried. He turned around once or twice before his eyes lit on the two of them sitting.

And then he just stared.

Which was okay, because Anne was staring right back at him. He looked like the devil himself-the black hair, which he brushed back out of his eyes with his hand, the sky blue eyes with a twinkle in them that Lucifer himself would have envied. He was about five-feet-nine, all of it well-toned and athletic. Anne practically fell in love with him right there, and wondered how she'd ever missed seeing him before.

"Miss Elliot? Mrs. Russell?" he asked politely.

"Yes," Anne spoke up quickly. "I'm Anne Elliot." She extended her hand.

"Frederick Wentworth," he replied, shaking her hand. Anne felt her hand warm instantly and was surprised to find herself still holding it thirty seconds later, though they'd stopped shaking hands after a few moments.

"And I'm Susan Russell," Susan said, extending her hand. Frederick let go of Anne's hand to shake Susan's, leaving Anne with the fleeting sense of loss and warmth. "What the devil took you so long to get here?"

"Dreadful traffic snarl, and I do apologize."

"Well," Susan said reluctantly, "I suppose it's all right."

"It's certainly understandable," Anne added. "If the traffic here is anything like it is in any other large city." Anne almost cringed after speaking, thinking of how stupid her statement must sound.

"London is unlike any other city in the world," Frederick told her with a smile, sealing her fate forever...

"Excuse me, miss, but you need to put on your seatbelt."

Anne looked up, startled away from her memories. "I'm sorry?"

"We're preparing to land. You need to put on your seatbelt."

"Oh...right." Anne fastened her seatbelt and tried to ignore the voice in her head that told her she'd made a serious mistake.

Author's note: I took poetic license with the song Rich thinks about at the beginning. While the story takes place sometime in the 1990's, the song is from this year--Elton John's "I Want Love."

Part 2

George Knightley looked about the large dining room in the back of his favorite restaurant, Bridges, a warm feeling of satisfaction filling his heart. He always felt this way just before a tour began, before the troubles began, large and small.

In the past it had always amazed him how well people got along on tour. Every skater had once been a fierce competitor. Some of them still were. And yet the moment they walked onto the bus, or in this case, into the restaurant, the on-ice rivalry faded away as people got to know each other and lifelong enemies often became good friends. It didn't always happen that way, but most of the time it did. He liked being there when it happened. He liked the fact that his tour was responsible for it.

Not bad for a kid born in Brooklyn, he thought with a grin.

George Knightley had started out a light technician for the Ice Capades many years ago, working summers and going to Columbia on a full scholarship. After getting his degree in business, he'd gone to work on Wall Street, making a fortune for investors and himself alike. George had made quite a name for himself, only to stun everyone when he resigned his position as a senior partner at Smythe & Young ten years ago.

People who knew George weren't so stunned. They knew he was miserable doing what he did, so when he made enough money, he got out for good.

Around the time he left the brokerage firm, an old friend from his days on the road with the Ice Capades called to mention that the tour he was working for was going under. George smelled an opportunity, and although everyone called him insane, he decided to buy the Grand Tour of Olympic Champions and give tour promoting a shot.

Two years later, the revamped, renamed Fire on Ice Tours became a success, and George had found his soul mate in the fiery Emma Woodhouse, a world-class skater who had been the first to accept his offer to skate on his tour. Six months after their first meeting, Emma was his fiancée and the rest of it was history.

"Daddy! Daddy! Mommy says that Anne Elliot is gonna be here! Is that true?"

George smiled as his six-year-old daughter Julia ran into the room and crashed into his legs. Typical behavior from Julia, who wanted to be just like her mother and Anne Elliot when she grew up.

"Yes, dearest, she's going to be here. A lot of people are going to be here."

"Do I get to meet her?"

George laughed. "I think she'd like that, but you'll have to ask your mother first."

"Aw, Daddy...pleeease?"

Just then, Emma walked into the room and as always, George found himself short of breath. Eight years together hadn't dimmed his love for her one bit. He was still fascinated by everything about her, from her wavy brown hair and hazel eyes to her painted toenails. Today she was dressed in a simple but elegant outfit, her rose-colored blouse tucked neatly into black pants. Her toenails were the exact color of the blouse, he noticed.

"She gets that from you, you know," he told Emma.

"Gets what?"

"That 'please.' I've heard it enough to know your inflection when I hear it."

"You're imagining things." But she smiled nonetheless. "The Darcys are here along with Georgiana and her husband. I wish I remembered his name."

"Bret Sullivan," George reminded her.

"Yes, of course. And you got a call from Charlotte Lucas wanting to know if it would be all right if her sister Amy joined us."

George frowned. A perfectionist at heart, he had just enough seating for everyone who was invited. "Can't she see her sister some other time?"

"The sister has come along from Seattle, rather unexpectedly from the way Charlotte made it sound, but there's someone she wants to see before the tour starts."

"Charlotte or the sister?"

"The sister."

George's warm feeling evaporated. The first problem has arisen, and we haven't even started the lunch.

"Charlotte said that Amy insisted on paying for her own lunch and that she's making arrangements to follow the bus in a car."

"You mean she's going to follow the tour?"

"I think so. You know, Charlotte and Carl are at the Plaza. You might be able to catch them before they leave."

"No, no. We'll squeeze in an extra chair somewhere for the sister. Perhaps Georgiana's husband would be willing to take the girl along if she splits traveling expenses."

"You could bring that up to him when they...hello, darlings!" Emma rushed over to Lizzy and Fitz, who had just entered the room. Emma gave both of them a big hug as they exchanged greetings and news.

George's trouble radar, which he sometimes thought was the onset of an ulcer, kicked in again as he observed the trio. Actually, it was more of a feeling he was getting from Lizzy, who despite the makeup looked a bit pale.

Oh, Lord. Please don't let there be anything wrong with them. Not only were Fitz and Lizzy two of his biggest stars on this tour, they were also friends of his. Lizzy and Emma had always been close before Emma left skating to marry him, and while it had taken him a while to get to know Fitz, he considered him a good friend as well.

Despite his pleas with God, George knew something was wrong. He made a mental note to himself to talk to Lizzy later, or better still, to Fitz.

Georgiana and her husband arrived next, baby Bridget sleeping peacefully in a car seat. Emma and Georgiana talked for a couple of minutes about child care, with Bret throwing in the occasional anecdote about how wonderful his daughter was. Lizzy slipped away from the group at the door to say hello to George.

"You look as though you've lost a little weight," George told her. "You're not on some crash diet, are you?"

"Of course not," Lizzy replied. "It's leftover from all the meals I skipped because I was so terrified of going to the Olympics."

George didn't believe that for a second, but he said, "Glad to hear it." And that was the end of it. Lizzy slipped by him to look around for her seat, and Fitz was approaching him.

"How are things, George?" Fitz asked.

"About the same as ever. Nerve-wracking. Emma's nervous about returning to the ice, I'm nervous about things going well, the children are driving us up the wall..."

"Same old, same old, then." Fitz grinned.

"Pretty much so." George's eyes followed Emma, who had gone over to talk to Lizzy. He lowered his voice and asked, "What's wrong with Lizzy?"

Fitz sighed. "I wish I knew, but she won't tell me. It's been like this since the Olympics. I've asked her several times if she wants to talk, but she'll deflect the question or blame it on hormones or some other nonsense. I thought at first, given the timing, that it might be because it had been a year since Lydia died, and then I thought it might be the let-down after the Olympics, but now I can't figure it out at all. It's very frustrating. It's like she doesn't trust me enough to tell me the problem."

"Maybe she'll talk to Emma or me."

"No, no. I'd be grateful to know the cause, but I don't want to find out from someone else. I want Lizzy to tell me herself. So until she decides to tell me, I'm doing my best to go along with her moods."

"Maybe she's pregnant," George suggested. "I remember when Emma was pregnant with Julia she was impossible at times."

Fitz was pensive, but after a moment he shook his head. "No, I know that's not it. I'm absolutely certain."

"Let me know how things turn out," George said.

"I will." Fitz shook his hand again and then walked over to his wife. He bent over to kiss her before taking his seat.

Georgiana and Bret greeted him next, Georgiana throwing her arms around him and saying, "You are an absolutely wonderful man, do you know that?"

"So my wife reassures me. How are you doing, Bret?"

"Just fine," the blond man replied, shaking his hand. "The book's about to be sold to Kellynch Press. I only hope my family doesn't boot me out forever once they get their hands on it."

Georgiana put a reassuring arm around her husband and said, "If they do, you've still got me and Bridget, darling."

George decided to lighten the sudden tension that had arisen from Bret mentioning his family. "Speaking of the little one, let me get a look at her."

Bret motioned to the table he'd set the car seat on. "Here she is," he said proudly.

George peered at the infant, who had awakened with all the noise but was remaining silent. She gazed up at him with her dark blue eyes delicately framed by dark eyebrows. As George watched her, Bridget tried to pull the bow out of her curly auburn hair.

"She's got quite a bit of hair for a baby only five months old," he remarked.

"She was born with all that hair," Georgiana said. "And just that curly, too."

"It looks like the only trait she got from Bret." George looked at the baby again and smiled. "Hello, little Bridget," he cooed. The baby gurgled and kicked her feet.

A sharp pang attacked him again, and it was only then that he noticed how both Georgiana and Bret stiffened at his remark.

Oh, no. Don't tell me we're headed for trouble here, too. George continued to stare at Bridget, who had decided to give up on her bow and settled for gumming the ribbon of her white dress instead. "She looks just like you, Georgiana," he added.

"Everyone says so, but I don't really see it."

George didn't really see it, either, as the baby's hair was a darker red than Georgiana's fiery mane and her eyes were darker than Georgiana's sky blue. The baby reminded him of someone, but he didn't have a clue of who it might be.

And it's not your business, either. You're just seeing things that aren't there. He could hear his wife's influence in that thought.

"I do," George reassured her. "And a little bit of Bret, too, now that I look at her. His nose, his chin."

Georgiana visibly relaxed. "I think so, too, but I'm prejudiced. I want all my children to look like him."

"How many more are you planning on having?" Bret asked with a smile.

"At least a dozen, dearest," she replied, giving him a kiss.

The feelings of doom eased somewhat as Georgiana and Bret joined her brother at his table and the group from Seattle arrived.

Carl was thrilled to see George Knightley back in charge of Fire on Ice tours. After enduring John Thorpe for the past three years, any alternative would've been preferable. George being a personable guy and good to work for were only added bonuses. He received a warm greeting from the skating promoter, as did Charlotte.

"This is my sister Amy," Charlotte said as she introduced Amy to the Knightleys.

"Hello," George said. "I think I've seen you around a time or two."

"Making a nuisance of myself, most likely. I'm good at that," Amy replied ruefully. "I hate to intrude on you like this, but Charlotte insisted I tag along today."

"It's not a problem, not at all. We've just added another place at your sister's table."

"Thank you, Mr. Knightley."

"Call me George. I was telling Emma a little bit ago that you might want to ask Georgiana's husband Bret if you could travel with him. He's coming along, too."

"He is?" Charlotte asked, surprised.

"Yes. Georgiana couldn't bear to be apart from her family, something I quite understand-my children are getting dragged all across the country, too. I offered him a seat on the bus, but he said he wanted to drive himself, and I can't say I blame him. The chatter on the bus sometimes drives me insane, and him being a writer, I imagine he needs all the quiet he can get."

"Then maybe I shouldn't ask him to take me along," Amy said.

"Oh, I imagine that one person won't bother him quite as much as the entire group."

"It would save you money as well," Carl pointed out.

"All right, then. I'll ask." Amy looked about the room, searching for Rich. He hadn't arrived yet, but she did spy Georgiana and Bret and made her way over to them.

"Hi," she said, coming to a stop in front of their table.

"Hello," Bret said pleasantly. "It's Amy Lucas, isn't it?"

Amy nodded. "Yes. We met at Charlotte's wedding."

"Right, I remember. You came with Rich up to our hotel room that night."

"Yes. I heard that you were going to be driving yourself around the country, following the bus?"

Bret nodded. "I'm thinking of writing a novel based on a drifter, so I thought I'd come along."

"Oh...well, I was wondering if you'd be interested in splitting expenses, but you probably won't be."

"Are you wanting to come with us, too?" Georgiana asked.

Amy nodded. "There are a few things that I need to do this summer."

"Rich?"

Amy was surprised. "How did you know...?"

Georgiana smiled. "It's pretty obvious. Most guys would think Richard Fitzwilliam is the luckiest man on the planet, because I think every woman has fancied herself in love with him at some point or another. Unfortunately, something always goes wrong and he ends up unhappy." Her smile faded away. "I think maybe if he found someone outside of skating, things would work out better for him."

"Funny. I was thinking the same thing. That's why I'm here."

"Well, if you don't have any objections, Georgie, then I'm fine with taking Amy along."

Georgiana nodded. "It's fine with me, too."

"Oh, thank you!" Amy smiled. "I'm surprised he isn't here already. Didn't he travel with you and your brother?"

Georgiana shook her head. "Uh...Rich has a few...issues with Bret."

Amy, who was ignorant of the facts, opted not to be nosy and ask what the deal was. She didn't want to offend Georgiana or Bret, not so soon after they'd agreed to let her tag along with him.

Charlotte and Carl had made their way around to the table. When Charlotte saw Georgiana, she smiled and said, "You didn't let me down!"

"I remembered what you said at the wedding," Georgiana said shyly.

"Good." The two women hugged. "Now, I never did get a chance to see your daughter. Amy told me you named her Bridget?"

"Yes," Georgiana said. "And here she is."

Carl and Charlotte looked at the little girl, both of their faces going quite still.

"She's so beautiful," Charlotte said quietly.

Georgiana nodded.

"She looks just like her father." When she said this, Charlotte's eyes were on Carl and not on Bridget.

Carl nodded again, his eyes drifting from Bridget to Charlotte and back to the baby.

"I get plenty of people who say she looks like me, though," Georgiana said. "Fitz insists she's the spitting image of me as a baby."

"Only you were completely bald," Bret said with a grin.

"I can see why say that," Charlotte murmured.

Amy was rather puzzled at Carl and Charlotte's reaction to the baby. Lord knew, they saw enough children at the skating rinks and other places that the sight of one child in particular shouldn't produce this sort of thing. Amy decided it had to be due to their longing for a child of their own and nothing more.

Richard Fitzwilliam arrived at the same time as Frederick Wentworth, and for a moment the two men glared at each other, both remembering the most recent Olympics. Rich still hadn't gotten over the humiliation of being less than perfect when he should've been, while Frederick, not having any hostile feelings toward Rich other than the usual secret animosity of rivals, felt his pain.

"I didn't get a chance to congratulate you on winning the gold, Frederick," Rich said stiffly.

"Thank you. You were bloody marvelous. I didn't figure I had a chance to win, even after you fell."

The two men stared at each other a moment longer before Rich busted out laughing. "Lord, I hate saying things like that," he said. "You know as well as I do that I wanted nothing more than to strangle you with the ribbon your medal was hanging on, and that was why I didn't congratulate you earlier."

Frederick was fortunately blessed with a similar sense of humor. "I would've felt the same way in the circumstances," he replied. "But I did mean what I said. You were fantastic."

"Thanks."

Rich was greeted at the door by Emma Woodhouse-no, he supposed he should remember that in private, she was Emma Knightley. He was well past the embarrassment he'd felt when she'd first married George, but he still had a bit of trouble remembering. Emma never betrayed by any action or word that she was uncomfortable being around him.

Rich sighed. Yet another woman who had loved another man more than she'd loved him. At least he'd known he didn't stand much of a chance with Emma to begin with.

Once Emma turned to Frederick, Rich took the opportunity to look around at the other assembled skaters. His eyes first turned to his closest friends, Fitz and Lizzy. They were seated with Georgiana and Bret. Immediately, Rich's gut twisted slightly, as it always did upon seeing Georgiana. He would never look on her without giving a thought to Lydia, and he certainly would never be able to forgive the man she'd married for writing the article which had sealed Lydia's fate.

Rich let his eyes roam around the room, taking in the Brandons, who were talking to the Binghams. He spotted Helena Hampton talking to Louisa Thurston.

Good Lord. It's like a reunion of all the women who've ever rejected me. Now all I need is Amy and the horror would be complete.

And then he saw her.

She sat between Charlotte and Marie Roi, ignoring the conversation completely because her eyes were focused solely on him.

What the hell is she doing here?

Rich didn't know how long he stood in the doorway, staring at Amy Lucas, before George approached him and said, "Hello, Richard! It's good to see you!"

"Good to see you, too," Rich said, distracted.

After a few minutes in which he would be very hard-pressed to remember a single word he said to George, he managed to get free of the promoter and darted toward the table.

"Rich!" Carl looked up with a hesitant smile on his face.

"Hi, Carl. Hi, Charlotte." He could only stare at Amy.

Time hadn't dimmed his memory of her. Whenever he thought of Amy, her eyes first came to mind-large, wide-spaced gray eyes. Then he thought of her blonde hair, which she'd let grow from the chin-length cut she'd been sporting when last he'd seen her. Now her hair fell in a golden curtain to her shoulders. His thoughts drifted to her mouth, the full pink lips parted ever so slightly, her even white teeth catching the lower one, betraying her nervousness.

Rich knew he'd been kidding himself about not caring about Amy's rejection. It had hurt more than he'd realized, but having had his heart broken so many times before, he felt that denial was better than hurt any day.

"Hello, Richard," she said softly.

"Amy...I didn't expect to find you here. Carl told me you'd gotten that internship you wanted."

"I did."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. It's still there, but...I decided not to take it after all."

Rich wasn't sure his mind was reaching the right conclusion. There had to be a million different reasons why Amy was here, and not one of them would have to do with him.

You're a glutton for punishment.

"Why?" he forced out.

Amy faltered, then took a deep breath and visibly pulled herself together. "Because I wanted to be with you."

Rich didn't need to hear any more-hell, he didn't want to hear any more. If he did, her reason might go away and right then, he needed her reason for being there more than he needed anything.

But he wasn't going to make a fool out of himself again. He wasn't going to rush things, or think himself in love before he could honestly say he was in love. Rich intended to take things slow, because if there was one thing he had learned in the last twenty-eight years, it was that these things took time.

And he didn't want this to end up the way his other romances had.

It took a great deal of willpower not to take her in his arms and kiss her, but he managed it. He just smiled and said, "I'm glad to hear it."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Really."

Frederick knew the moment Anne Elliot walked into the room. Not for him the feeling in the pit of his stomach, oh no. He had to suffer from the mysterious tingling that coursed all through his body the moment she walked into a room. He got goosebumps on his arms and his spine felt as though someone had shot electric current all down it.

Good Lord, all this for a woman who doesn't even know of your existence.

Frederick stiffened as he saw her walking over to his table. It was then that he noticed the neatly written card sitting beside the plate to the right of his.

There is no God, Frederick decided as he gazed at the ominous little card with the words "Miss Anne Elliot" written on it.

Seeing Anne approach reminded him of the first time he'd seen her, sitting patiently waiting for him while her coach railed about everything she could.

All Frederick could think of the first time he saw Anne Elliot was that she looked like an angel. Very pale blonde hair, those deep violet eyes that didn't seem real but were, creamy white skin, almost ethereal-looking. She was quite possibly the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life. For a few brief seconds he was afraid she wasn't the person he was looking for, but then he noticed the sweatshirt she was wearing with the logo from her hometown skating club on it and knew it was her. This beautiful angel was the one.

And he was going to spend the next three months with her!

"Miss Elliot? Mrs. Russell?" he managed to say.

"Yes," the angel replied quickly. "I'm Anne Elliot." She extended her hand to him.

"Frederick Wentworth," he said, shaking her hand. Every nerve in his body shot to life at the touch of her hand, the first time he would feel as though lightning had struck. It was with great reluctance that he released her hand to shake the hand of her coach.

"What the devil took you so long to get here?"

"Dreadful traffic snarl, and I do apologize," Frederick said regretfully. If he'd known what would be awaiting him, nothing on earth would've stopped him from getting here on time. Being late was probably a mark against him in her eyes, but maybe not. She hadn't stopped staring at him just as he had not stopped staring at her.

"Well, I suppose it's all right," the coach said, her voice indicating the opposite.

"It's certainly understandable," Anne said, her voice low-pitched and perfect. Frederick despised shrill sopranos, which seemed to be all he met anymore. "If the traffic here is anything like it is in any other large city."

In the next instant, Frederick knew he was in love, because after saying that, Anne's face was the picture of uncertainty. It was clear to him that she'd wanted to make a good impression and she feared her statement hadn't done it.

"London is unlike any other city in the world," Frederick told her, smiling to let her know that he found nothing wrong with what she'd said. In the next instant, he knew he'd said the right thing because she smiled at him. "Perhaps, if you'd like, I could take you on a tour."

"We should be far too busy for such things," Susan Russell said decidedly, frowning. "We're here to learn from your coach, Mr. Wentworth, not sightsee. Now, if you would be so kind as to take us to the place where we'll be staying?"

"Of course." Frederick was not put off by Susan Russell. He picked up Anne's bags.

"I can get those," Anne said quickly. "Mine are light. Susan's the one who packed her entire house."

"These feel awfully heavy to me."

"You should pick up Susan's."

Frederick reluctantly set Anne's suitcases down and picked up her coach's. He very quickly discovered that Anne hadn't been kidding-Susan must've put bricks in her bags to make them this heavy.

He glanced up to find Anne smiling at him again.

"I did warn you," she said.

"I was hoping you were joking."

"Are you coming along or are we just going to stand here at the airport all day?" Susan asked.

"We're coming," Anne told her. She stood on tiptoe to reach Frederick's ear and whisper, "Don't worry. She's not always like this. It's just been a rough journey over and she's still upset that Catherine de Bourgh didn't ask me to train with her."

"While I'm sorry for your sake, I can't help but be grateful that you aren't with Lady Cat this summer. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

Anne blushed, but at a look from her coach proceeded to head for the exit...

Frederick looked up to see that Anne was standing in front of the table, looking hesitant and very nervous.

Good. She should be nervous after what she did to me.

Anne was not as lovely as she'd been at eighteen. Her hair was still pale blonde, her eyes were still violet, but her skin looked washed-out, and time had etched small lines around the eyes which looked sadder than he remembered. Her face, which had once been a perfect oval, was now almost gaunt. She was too thin, too pale, too ordinary now. If he hadn't seen her from time to time over the years, he wouldn't have recognized her.

But even as he listed her faults, Frederick told himself he was being an absolute fool. Who was he trying to kid? Anne Elliot could dye her hair black and look like a skeleton, but he would know her instantly.

And despite of her imperfections, he would still think her beautiful.

"Hello, Frederick," she said softly.

Continued In Next Section