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wife's restless fingers, "she's not going to forget de Vec in a few weeks. Daisy's never even shown an interest in anyone before… or that degree of interest," he added, thinking of Martin. "Damn shame he was married."

"Well, it may be a shame and she may need time to get over it," Blaze replied, shifting a demonstrable anxiety to a rearrangement of her coffee cup and juice goblet, "but in the interval, I'd suggest we take a hand in helping put his memory to rest."

Hazard gazed at- his wife skeptically over his coffee cup. "Remember, you're talking about Daisy. She's not easily guided or open to casual suggestion."

Blaze's small grimace was acknowledgment and her ensuing smile typical of her inherent optimism. "Really dear, give me some credit. I wasn't planning on giving her a lecture. I rather think a trip to Newport might be a nice change of scene. You know Frank's been begging you and Trey to play in their international tourney at the end of the month. We could stop briefly in New York first and buy Daisy some new things—"

"She doesn't like to shop."

"Don't be negative, darling," Blaze remonstrated, her mood noticeably lightening as she outlined her plans. "She'll shop for a day, at least, if you make it interesting. Why not bring some of Riding Star's paintings to that gallery mounting an exhibition of Western art? We have to show a little imagination to tempt her out of Montana."

"A damn good imagination, sweet, to talk her into society right now. Even under the most benign circumstances, she avoids the fashionable world."

"I intend to bring her to Newport." Blaze's voice was softly emphatic.

"When I hear that tone of voice, bia. I'd better have the rail-car brought out and fitted up."

Blaze smiled. "How clever of you, darling. Now, we're a large and intelligent enough family to talk one of our members into 'cooperating' in a family excursion."

"Are you talking major guilt?" His grin was teasing.

"Nothing so unsubtle. Friendly persuasion, I think is the proper phrase. I'll have Empress talk to her."

"And Trey."

"And you at the last, with some project that will be beneficial for the tribe. I rather like the paintings for the New York gallery but if you have a more creative idea, so much better. Oh, I forgot to mention, Kit will be at Newport. He sailed in from the Indies… something to do with a sugar plantation in Jamaica. He's been in Newport for a day or so, he said when he telegraphed."

"Say no more. Daisy'll go to see Kit. She adores her uncle and delights in the fact he's four years her junior. Last time he visited they both agreed, kindred spirits at heart, that no earthly reason existed to ever contemplate marriage. Although, unlike Daisy, who's since discovered the potent force in Cupid's erratic aim, I don't think Kit will ever stand still long enough to make a target."

"We're agreed then. Newport for the polo matches." Hazard smiled at the wife he adored. "I know that look. You've started packing already, haven't you?"

"Just a few things for the babies."

"This will be a major undertaking, I can see."

"Frank will be thrilled you're coming and admit it, darling, you're dying to show those Brits a few Absarokee riding tricks again." The last time the British team had come informally to play polo at Newport, Hazard and Trey had dazzled the cool British officers with their fearless, "riding-with-their-necks-for-sale" speed and matchless combination plays. No one passed with their precision or brilliance, or scored so effortlessly with strikes from under their pony's belly, while both men hit with finesse from either side, off or near.

Hazard's grin was boyish. "Well, there's Sandhurst training and then there's the Absarokee way. What can I say?"

"So you don't mind going?" Blaze wouldn't have pressured her husband even for Daisy had he been strongly opposed. Her first concern had always been Hazard's happiness as was his for her. Friends, lovers, confidants, a sustaining empathy served as basis for their enduring love.

"No," he quietly said, "I don't mind. And if it'll help Daisy, we'll go."

The Duc de Vec opened his latest telegram from Jolie—the daily missive she'd warned him against.

When are you coming to visit? the familiar message inquired, as had the ten previous ones, and he glanced at the calendar on his desk this time with a purposeful gaze. Justin had informed him yesterday, the polo club was putting together an extra team to send over to the informal matches in Newport and if he'd play, everyone would be eternally grateful, because Centrelle's team was bound to lose with their excessive interest in drinking.

The auxiliary team would operate in an unofficial capacity, but in the event Centrelle couldn't play or others of his hard-drinking team succumbed to their excesses, the auxiliary team could serve as replacements. As head steward of the polo club, Centrelle, of course, had the right to assemble his own team, and he had. It was a touchy situation.

Etienne hadn't committed himself yesterday, but with Jolie's telegram in his hand and his trip to Samarkand coming up next month, perhaps, he should consider a short visit to America. Seated on his first pony, Hector smiled at him from the framed photo on his desk. The Duc believed in his shaman gods; that smile looked real. Jolie, Henri, and Hector would be in Newport for the polo matches.

He'd go.

Trey noticed Etienne first, when the French team cantered onto the field. He was substituting for Centrelle at second.

"There's de Vec," Trey said to his father, "at Centrelle's position. I didn't know he was here."

Hazard's head swiveled around and he half turned in his saddle, his dark eyes dwelling consideringly on the man who had caused his daughter so much heartache. "Centrelle was tight as a mink yesterday; he mustn't have been up for play. Both he and Daudet have preferred the bar at the clubhouse." He squinted against the sun, his eyes taking on a calculating

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