‘No, certainly not,’ he called back when he saw who his patient was. One-armed Johnny. The last thing he wanted was for Jules to meet one of the most dishonest little bastards in the city.
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‘Saint, I’ve got a friend who got coshed on the head. He’s bad, Saint, real bad.’
‘All right. I’ll be right along. Jules, don’t wait dinner for me. This -might take a while.’ ‘Good-bye,’ she said. ‘Take care!’
With One-armed Johnny to protect him, he didn’t have a thing to worry about, he thought, giving his wife a reassuring wave of the hand.
Her shoulders drooped when the front door closed behind Michael and that disreputab le-lo o king man. She walked slowly into the parlor and stared about her. At least back home she could have spent hours wandering the beach and swimming. Identifying birds, feeding the fish, just enjoying the sun on her face … playing with Kanola’s children. But Kanola was dead. So much had happened in such a short time. Too much, and yet not enough. Not only did she now have a husband, she was also a prisoner
She decided to write to Thomas.
‘Well, if it isn’t Saint Michael and his lovely bride! Come on in, both of you.’
Saint shook his head ruefully. ‘You’ve done me in,’ he said to Jules. ‘All right, Del, have your sport, but my wife is sworn to silence.’
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‘You mean silence about your other name?’ Jules asked innocently, and he squeezed her until she squeaked.
Del Saxton grinned as he led Saint and Jules into the parlor. ‘Here’s our guest of honor, Chauncey,’ he said. ‘Lord, you picked a beauty, Saint,’ he added, giving Jules an appreciative look.
‘Don’t show your true colors just yet,’ Chauncey said, buffeting her husband lightly on the shoulder. ‘Remember you’re a very married man with a child to boot. Lovely, Jules, really lovely. The gown is perfect for you.’
‘I agree,’ Saint said. ‘The green nearly matches your eyes, sweetheart.’ He’d had the strong urge, when she’d come downstairs to join him, to rip that lovely gown off her. Her shoulders were bared, milky white above the lace. ‘Lovely’ wasn’t the word he would have chosen for her. Her waist looked minuscule and he guessed that Lydia had pulled her stays very tight. He disapproved of that_, but Jules had looked at him with such eagerness, such hopefulness, that he said nothing about the damned corset. ‘Beautiful,’ he’d managed in a choked voice.
‘Truly? You’re not just saying that?’ ‘No, I’m not just saying that.’
She’d fluttered about for a moment, then
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blurted out, ‘It cost so much money! And all the underthings, and the gloves – ‘
‘Don’t be an ass, Jules. I thought I told you to leave the money to me.’
Even now, in the middle of the Saxtons’ parlor, knowing he should have himself well under control, he wanted to lean down and kiss her white throat, and her shoulders, and the soft swell of her breasts. Lord, he wanted …
‘You’re looking lost to this world, Saint,’ Chauncey said. ‘Come, have a glass of sherry.’ He pulled himself together and forced
himself to look at his wife without the greed of desire in his eyes. ‘Would you like some sherry, Jules?’
‘I’ve never tasted it before,’ Jules said, looking shyly up at her husband.
I want you so much, he wanted to tell her. Instead he said, ‘Just a little, Chauncey. I don’t want a drunken bride.’
The Newtons arrived a few moments later. Horace eyed Jules with an experienced connoisseur’s eye and nodded. ‘Well done, my boy. Aggie here told me what a pretty filly she was., but she didn’t go far enough.’
‘I feel like a racehorse,’ Jules said, and everybody laughed.
Agatha hugged her briefly. ‘You’ll have to get used to all the gentlemen looking at you
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like you’re a new dessert, my dear. Just wait until Tony and Dan arrive.’
Tony Dawson., a journalist to his fingertips, hadn’t unfortunately, heard about Jules’s background, and asked her over the first course of terrapin soup how she’d managed to tie herself to a big oaf like Saint.