She found him in the front room, sitting on the sofa with this head cradled in his hands. He'd donned his mask and wig and she realized they were his armor against the outside world. Against her? "I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning against his side. "I never wanted to upset you."

His head came up and he sighed. "I know. I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry, too." He took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "The storm is over, you should be going back to your hotel before your secretary sends the police out looking for you.

"I know." She let go of his hand and started slipping into her jacket. "You don't have to worry about a child." Her voice was matter-of-fact. "I'm barren."

He stood, coming to her and enfolding her gently in his arms. "I'm so sorry." He kissed the soft cloud of her hair. "You have so much love to give, it's not fair that you can't share it with a child."

She smiled, patting his chest. "If anyone's life isn't fair, it's yours." She pulled in a deep breath, stepping back to hold his hands. "I may not be able to have a child of my body, but I have hundreds of children in my life and being able to help them gives me great joy."

"Yes, your foundation." He moved to a small desk in a corner of the room. "I want to give you a cheque."

"Really, Erik, do you think I accept money for my services?"

He turned to her in shock until he saw the grin on her lips and the sparkle in her eyes. "I didn't mean—"

"I know. I just couldn't resist a little teasing. And there's no need to make a donation, your friend gave me a most generous cheque on your behalf this morning."

"My friend?"

"Mr. Khan."

His lips twisted in annoyance. "Nasir. I should have known he couldn't leave it alone."

"Leave what alone?"

"I had a rather…visceral reaction to your speech last night." He ran his hand over his face. "Not my finest moment."

She smiled, saying nothing. He still carried her ribbon. She could imagine his shock when he realized who she was at the gala. "He's a good man. He asked if my story was true. I understand now why he was so concerned. He must care greatly for your welfare. Don't be upset with him."

"Nasir has a bad habit of overstepping the boundaries of friendship, but since you insist, I won't chastise him for his action this time."

"Good." She gathered her hair up under her hat and secured it with the hat pin. "May I ask you a personal question?"

Considering they'd just engaged in the most personal act possible between two people, he nodded. "What do you want to know?"

"Why does the thought of having a child upset you so? You have so much love within you to share—don't deny it. I don't understand."

"It's not about love," he said slowly. "It's about what else I could give to the child." He raised his hand to his mask. "Lillian, I was born this way. Do think I could ever wish to risk doing this to an innocent child?"

His words cut her to the core. She'd never thought. "I understand. Thank you for telling me." She moved to the apartment door. "Don't come down, just rest. I can easily hail a carriage from the street."

He knew it was useless to argue so he moved back to the sofa and stretched out against the pillows. His headache was almost gone. His arm stung a bit, but as long as he was careful about moving it, the pain wasn't too bad.

"I have to attend a musicale" at Colonel and Mrs. Masters' home tonight, but I have no engagements for tomorrow. The only reason I'm staying in town the extra day is because I have tickets to hear Mr. Caruso tomorrow night."

"My condolences upon your evening." Erik smiled. One of the advantages of not being a fully accepted part of Society was being able to bypass the musicale evenings where the upper class showed off their dubious talents. "However, I have heard that Mr. Caruso is extraordinary. He shall be the reward for your stoic suffering tonight."

"I didn't know you were a musical snob." She frowned at him. " I shall expect you at my hotel at half-past ten tomorrow morning. We shall dine, and then you may be my escort for the day. It will do your sketchy reputation wonders to be seen with me."

He laughed at her audacity. "My sketchy reputation?" Oh, you have no idea. "As you wish, My Lady."

She favored him with her most gracious Lady Lillian nod and stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind her.

Erik sank back into the pillows. His head was spinning and it had nothing to do with the blow he'd received. He marveled at everything that happened in less than a day's time. The girl who'd haunted his dreams for years was a woman and she had wanted him as a man. Maybe miracles do happen.

. . . .

Erik knocked at the door to Lillian's hotel suite at exactly 10:29 a.m.. It swung open to reveal a smallish man who looked at him with wide blue eyes. Erik took the opportunity of the man's split second reaction to his mask, to walk past him into the room. "Please tell the Baroness that Mr. Dantes is here for his appointment."

The man recovered faster than most who saw him for the first time. "Mr. Dantes, Her Ladyship is expecting you." A maid came forward to take Erik's hat and walking stick and then stepped back with a small curtsey. "If you'll follow me." He led the way through the room to an open door at the back. "Mr. Dantes, ma'am."

Lillian rose from her seat on the settee. "Thank you, Mr. Jackson."

He acknowledged her with a slight nod and walked from the room. "Please close the door, Mr. Jackson." Then she waited, staring down her secretary's disapproval until the door was closed and they were alone. "He's a very good secretary, but sometimes he can be a bit overprotective."

"Imagine if he knew that you'd spent several hours yesterday in the apartment of an unmarried less-than-gentleman." Erik smiled, moving to her and kissing her gently on the cheek.

"I fear his heart might not survive the shock." A mock frown played across her face. Then she was serious, looking up at him. "How are you feeling this morning? How is your head?" Lillian moved to the table room service had delivered and slipped into one of the two dining chairs while indicating he was to join her.

"The headache is gone unless I happen to touch that tender spot. And my arm feels the way one would expect it to feel having been shot, I suppose. Thankfully, up to this moment, I have had no personal experience with bullet wounds. And I fervently hope I never will again."

"Amen," she responded. "Now eat; breakfast smells divine and I'm starving."

Breakfast tasted wonderful, Erik thought chewing his last bite of Eggs Benedict. Especially when compared with his usual fare of toast and coffee. "This was a wonderful treat," he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and taking a final sip of coffee. "Thank you for breakfast."

She acknowledged his thanks and glanced at the watch pinned to the front of her dress. "I'm so glad you liked it."

He noticed her movement and the distracted tone in her voice. "Do you have an appointment? Do you wish me to leave?"

"No, I do not wish you to leave, and yes, I do have an appointment. Or rather we have an appointment."

"What do you mean?" He tensed, glancing at the door. "We? Who's coming?" Did she know? Did she somehow learn of his past in Paris? Was he about to be exposed as murderer and madman?

"Please don't be angry, Erik. But I asked Mr. Sholokhov to stop in. I wanted him to have a look at you."

"That's not necessary. My arm feels fine." The look on her face made him uneasy. "Why would I be angry?" There was something she wasn't telling him.

The door opened and Mr. Jackson stepped in. "Mr. Benjamin Sholokhov to see you, ma'am."

Lillian smiled as her associate walked briskly into the room carrying a small leather bag. "Benjamin, thank you so much for coming. I know you're on a tight schedule."

The doctor bowed slightly and raised her hand for a slight kiss. "As always, a pleasure madame. My train leaves at 2:00 p.m., until then I am at your disposal."

Erik decided he hated the suave man with the slightest hint of an Eastern European accent. He coughed into his hand as a reminder that she wasn't the only person in the room. And allowed himself an inner smile at Sholokhov's reaction to him.

"Stop it, Erik," Lillian muttered under her breath, taking his arm and walking to where the other man waited. "Mr. Erik Dantes, allow me to present Mr. Benjamin Sholokhov."

The two men shook hands formally, each sizing the other up to Lillian's great amusement. "All right you two, conduct yourselves like the civilized gentlemen I hope you both are." Then she smiled broadly, feeling the tension dissipate a little."

"Erik, Benjamin is a long-time friend, and one of the physician-surgeons working at the Foundation's hospitals. Once the buildings for the hospitals are complete, Benjamin and his team take responsibility for managing all the medical equipage and seeing to it that new staff are correctly trained. Then they set up an annual rotation to ensure that our standards are being maintained. He also manages to find time to travel, often to remote sections of Eastern Europe and Asia to offer medical assistance to outlying villages. He especially looks for any children that may need our help." She smiled, patting the physician's hand.

"You sound like an absolute, saint, Mr. Sholokhov," Erik said, hiding the bit of envy he felt at the man's accomplishments.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Dantes. Although I have no wish to become one. It's not part of my faith, but doesn't sainthood often accompany a rather unpleasant death?"

"So I have sometimes been told," Erik said. "Although my own experiences with faith tended to be few and more about the other side of the angels."

"I see." Sholokhov took a step back, looking up at the taller man. "Do I detect a faint trace of French in your accent, Mr. Dantes? Are you perhaps related to the famous French Count Edmund Dantes?"

Erik clamped down on his jaw to keep from grinning. "Ah, no. No relation. Although the vast fortune he's said to possess would come in handy.

"And you, Mr. Sholokhov, do I detect a faint trace of Russian in your accent? Are you perhaps one of the innumerable relatives of Czar Nicholas?" He noted the sudden upward quirk in the doctor's lips and the gleam in his eye. The man had wit and a sense of humor. It was going to be hard to hate him.

"Touché, Mr. Dantes. Touché."

"All right," Lillian broke in. "While the verbal jousting session has been delightful, Erik I asked Benjamin here for a specific reason. I want him to examine your wound and make sure it's starting to heal properly."

"That's really not necessary." Having no good experiences with healers, Erik was hesitant to comply. "I feel fine, Lillian and I don't wish to intrude on your friendship. I can see my own physician later."

"I can assure you, Mr. Dantes," Sholokhov said, "it's no imposition at all. Besides, we both know that our Lady Lillian will not rest until we've complied with her wishes. Yes?"

Erik sighed in defeat. "Yes. All right, you may examine my arm." He shrugged off his suit coat and began to unfasten his cuff.

"I think it best to remove the shirt, so that I can also test shoulder rotation and flexibility." Sholokhov looked to Lillian. "I'm sure Mr. Dantes would prefer that you leave the room while I perform my examination."

"Of course." She smiled and walked to the door. "Do you think it will take long?"

"No more than twenty minutes, I'm sure."

"I'll see you soon. And Erik, please behave." She winked and closed the door behind her.

Erik turned his full attention to the physician. "Forgive me, but if you are a physician, why does Lillian address you as Mister?"

The smaller man smiled. "It's an odd quirk of the British medical system. You see, in the very early days, barbers doubled as surgeons. Later, as educated physicians became more plentiful, surgeons were looked down upon for working with their hands instead of relying solely on their higher-class educations and using only their minds. So physicians were addressed as 'Doctor' but surgeons were still called 'Mister." Even though today surgeons are physicians, the tradition has continued. Therefore, in Britain I am Mr. Sholokhov."

Erik shook his head. "Ah the British, so wrapped up in their class system. Sometimes I think they're even worse than the French."

Sholokhov smiled and nodded in agreement. "You can call me either Doctor or Mister, Mr. Dantes. It makes no difference to me."

"Very well. So tell me Mr. Sholokhov, why are you really here? What does she want?"

"Ah, Mr. Dantes, you are perceptive. You're right, of course, Her Ladyship did have an ulterior motive in asking me here this morning. She does want me to assess her work on your arm, although she's more competent than some surgeons I know. But—"

"But she also wanted you to see my face." He pulled in a deep breath, preparing to raise his arm to pull off his shirt. "Damnit why can't she leave it alone?"

"I think you may know Lillian almost as well as I do. She's a force of nature."

Sholokhov helped Erik to raise his injured arm and gently remove the shirt and then began unwinding the bandage. He noted the scarring from other wounds, but said nothing. Sadly, he found he was never surprised by the cruelty men could inflict upon others.

"I've learned it's easier to go along with her wishes," Sholokhov continued. "It generally saves time and effort because even with arguing, the result is always the same." He set the bandage aside and pulled a small magnifying glass from his bag. "Now, come sit by the window and let me take a close look at that wound."

The examination was quick. Sholokhov redressed the wound and helped Erik back into his shirt. "So," Erik began, buttoning his shirtfront and pulling on his waistcoat. "I suppose now you want to see what's under my mask."

"If you please."

Erik reached for his mask, noticing his hands were shaking slightly. He stilled them with effort and pulled the molded leather away from his face. Then he reached to remove the hairpiece.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Dantes." Sholokhov stopped him. "Am I correct in thinking the deformation continues up into your skull?"

"Yes." Erik's mouth was dry. He'd never truly been examined before and found he was a little afraid to know the why of his condition.

Sholokhov held Erik's chin, peering at him closely and gently turning his face in the light. Then he stepped back and handed Erik his mask. "It's you, isn't it? The boy in Lillian's story is you." Erik nodded silently. "I always thought she was exaggerating, spinning a sympathetic tale out of a fragment of truth to sway the donors."

"So now you know; it's all true. All of it." He turned away, focusing on the San Francisco skyline out the window.

"Thank you for allowing me to examine you, Mr. Dantes."

Erik nodded, closing his eyes and replacing his mask. "Do you know what caused this?" He'd never asked that question before, not to another person. He desperately wanted to believe it wasn't just a sick trick of the gods, but that there was an explainable reason. It wouldn't change anything, but he found he needed to know why he'd been cursed so.

"Possibly." Sholokhov nodded in answer to his question. "Tell me, where were you born?"

"A small village several kilometers outside of Rouen. Why?"

"And was there a physician or perhaps a midwife in the village?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I don't remember hearing of either one." He cast his mind back to the few memories he had of the village. Mostly he remembered people yelling and throwing things at him. "There was a healer, I think, a woman who gave out herbs and ointments to help people. I don't know for sure. I was just a child when I left." The questioning left Erik feeling uneasy.

"I see."

Both men looked up when the door opened and Lillian returned. "How is the patient?" She sensed something, some tension in the air between them. "Is everything all right?"

"You did an admirable job with the wound, Lillian. Mr. Dantes is healing well." Sholokhov turned to Erik. "Change the bandage every few days and keep the wound clean. In ten days, go to your own physician and have the stitches removed."

"Thank you." He didn't have a physician, had no need for one. Nasir would have to perform the task, or barring that, Erik would simply remove them himself. "And the other?"

Sholokhov looked uncomfortable. "I believe I may have an answer to your question." He hesitated, looking between Erik and Lillian.

Erik sat on the nearby settee and reached for Lillian's hand, pulling her down to sit beside him. "You can tell us both."

"Very well." Sholokhov sat facing them. "As Lillian said, I spent a great deal of time traveling through the remote regions of Europe. In my travels, I have come across other children with deformities such as yours, although they almost all either died at birth or were stillborn. Very few survived, and those that did never lived more than a few months. I've never seen another adult with your condition."

Lillian leaned forward, still clasping Erik's hand. "Do you know why they were born that way?"

Sholokhov nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "From what I'd learned in my travels, all the mothers had two things in common. They all lived in small rural villages, some distance from larger more modern cities or towns. And all of them confessed they went to village wise women, some even called them witches, to get herbs to cause them to miscarry. None of them wanted the children they bore."

Erik stood abruptly, walking to the window and turning his back to the room.

Sholokhov looked up at him. "I am sorry, Mr. Dantes. I know that's no comfort to you."

Erik turned back. "You're wrong, Mr. Sholokhov, now at least I can stop blaming God. Thank you for your time and your honesty."

Lillian rose and walked Sholokhov to the door. "Thank you, Benjamin. Have a safe trip back to New York. I'll see you in a months' time."

Sholokhov picked up his medical bag and kissed Lillian's hand again. "And a safe trip to you as well, tomorrow. Goodbye."

She watched him leave and then quietly closed the door.

"She tried to kill me." Erik's voice was soft but clear, carrying across the room. "My mother wanted me dead even before I was born. That explains so much."

Lillian crossed the room, pulling him into her arms and holding on tightly. There was nothing to say, nothing to ease his pain. They stood together for several minutes, then Erik pulled away.

"I'm all right," he said. "I always knew she disliked me. I thought it was because of the way I looked. But it wasn't. Maybe if I looked normal, she might have come to love me. But maybe not. I'll never know.

"Lillian, I know you'd planned for us to spend the day together, but would you think it terribly boorish of me to leave? I find I need some time alone." The true horror surrounding his birth threatened to overwhelm him. He needed to get his temper under control and his thoughts in order before he could be with her again.

"Of course. I understand completely." She rang a small hand bell, waiting until her maid entered. "Tilly, Mr. Dantes is leaving, please have his things ready at the door. "

"Of course, Your Ladyship."

He strode toward the door. "I'm sorry to have ruined the day. I just can't…." he shook his head, unable to speak any longer.

She reached up, cupping his cheek. "I know this is a terrible shock, but please, don't let it consume you." He moved to step around her and she stopped him, grasping his shoulders. "Come see me tonight, please. I have two tickets for a private box to hear Mr. Caruso in Carmen. Come with me. We don't have to talk. I just don't like the idea of you being alone too long right now."

"How did you know?"

"Know what?" His question puzzled her.

"I love the opera." He blinked and swallowed, then forced a slight smile. "I shall be honored to escort you this evening. I shall return for you at seven o'clock. Thank you for asking me." He bent and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "And thank you for understanding now. Don't worry about me. I will see you later."

Lillian stepped back, letting him pass and seeing him exit the suite before beckoning to her maid. "Is everything ready for my departure tomorrow?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship. Your bags are packed and will be picked up by the porter later this afternoon. Your evening dress, your night clothes, and your traveling outfit are also ready for you. Your small suitcase is open and ready for your last minute packing in the morning."

"Thank you, Tilly. I appreciate your thoroughness. When do you and Mr. Jackson leave for Chicago?"

"We have tickets for the three o'clock train this afternoon. I've arranged for the hotel to send a lady's maid to your rooms at six o'clock this evening to help you prepare for the opera and again at nine tomorrow morning to assist with your departure."

"As always, Tilly, you are a model of efficiency."

"Thank you, Your Ladyship. By the time you arrive in Chicago, Mr. Jackson and I will have the suite prepared and all the information necessary for your meetings."

Lillian nodded as Tilly left to continue preparations for the next leg of their journey. Moving back to the remains of the breakfast table she poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot resting on a small votive flame and walked back to the windows. She'd planned to spend the day with Erik, but she understood his need for solitude. I'm so sorry, dear Boy. I hoped to help and all I've managed to do is to bring you more pain. I promise, I'll make it up to you tonight.