He wasn’t long and the dinner was indeed well prepared. Saint said nothing more about his trip to Sausalito. He didn’t want to burden her with particulars. In fact, he said very little, not knowing what to talk about to her. He was drinking a cup of coffee, screwing up his courage, and finally said, ‘Jules, I want to apologize, to tell you how sorry I am for what happened, for what I did and – ‘ He broke off suddenly, seeing her flinch.
He very nearly sighed with relief when there was a loud knock on the front door.
It wasn’t a patient. It was Brent Hammond. ‘You stupid bastard,’ Brent said as he strode into the house.
‘Good to see you too, Brent,’ Saint said. ‘Come in, won’t you? Would you like a drink?’
‘Nope. I want to talk to you.’
Brent saw Jules from the corner of his eye, and quickly turned to smile at her. ‘Good
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evening,’ he said. She looked pale, Brent thought, and no wonder.
Jules nodded, and looked a question at her husband.
Brent answered for him. ‘I need to speak to your husband for a little while, Jules, if you don’t mind. Incidentally, Byrony sends her love.’
‘Not at all,’ Jules said, and went upstairs. She’d never felt so alone in her entire life. She hated the house, the bedroom, hated the wretched mirror that showed her looking miserable.
In the parlor, Brent said, ‘Now, my friend, I’ve had a talk with DeU
Saint walked to the sofa and sat down, his arms behind his head. ‘Go ahead. I doubt I can stop you unless I plant my fist in your face. Since Del has said his piece, do feel free to dose me with your marvelous advice.’
Brent smiled. ‘Touchy, aren’t you, Saint? No advice. I’ve come with an offer for you.’ ‘Lord save me! Look, Brent, why don’t you
just go back to your beautiful wife and leave me the hell alone!’
‘If I recall correctly,’ Brent said, unperturbed, ‘you were very involved in my affairs not too long ago.’
‘That was different,’ Saint said, irritated. ‘You were acting the fool, wearing blinders,
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and poor Byrony Oh God, that sounds like me.
‘Like hell,’ Brent said pleasantly, cutting off his thoughts. ‘Now, just listen.’ He sat forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his knees. ‘You are my wife’s doctor. You will deliver our child when the time comes. In return, I wish to begin payments to you on sort of an installment plan. Your wife needs protection. I will provide that protection. His name is Thackery, and he’s very smart, strong., and loyal. He’s a black man, a former slave from Wakehurst, and a fine marksman. He will live here until Wilkes is taken care of. He will be with your wife when you can’t be. He will be her bodyguard and protect her with his life. Now, what do you say, Saint?’
Saint wanted to tell Brent to take this Thackery and throw him in the bay, but he didn’t. Brent was right. And he was a good friend. Saint sighed. ‘All right.’
Brent cocked a dark brow. ‘My, my, marriage seems to have mellowed you a bit. Made you more reasonable, more amenable. Thackery is waiting outside, of course. Would you like to invite Jules down to meet him?’
‘Probably,’ Saint said, rising. He wondered how Jules was going to react to having a bodyguard. ‘Let me fetch her.’ He turned in
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the parlor doorway. ‘Brent, thanks.’ ‘My pleasure, old son,’ Brent said.
Jules gave Thackery her most winsome smile. She had to take him off guard, a difficult task at the very least. In their first week together, he went everywhere with her, never interfering in what she wished to do, merely staying stolidly with her, his presence forbidding to strangers and a relief to friends. Jules liked him. But now she had to distract him. Ah yes, the dress shop owned by Monsieur David. The perfect place.
‘I would like to look at some gowns, Thackery,’ she said, waving toward the shop. ‘Certainly, Mrs. Saint. I’ll be right here when you come out.’