Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [70]
“Ah,” Del said, “but there was such wit flowing, at least from this poor soul.” He held his hand dramatically over his heart.
“We could invite all the upper crust, charge them a fortune, and Wakeville would shortly be on the map,” said Saint.
“We can even ensure that Lloyd Marks is there,” Chauncey said. “He draws the maps,” she added to Jules.
“I think,” Del said, “that the Stevensons would be delighted to hold the ball at their home.”
“Yes indeed,” said Saint. “You can hint to Bunker that we’ll all do our damnedest to find Penelope a husband out of the flock of men who will be there.”
“If,” Byrony said, “we could just convince Tony Dawson to be a bit mean, he’d make a perfect husband for Penelope.”
Planning the Wakeville ball went on for several more hours. Lydia served all the food in the house and cleaned out Saint’s liquor supply. When the last of the guests had left, Jules sighed and walked back into the parlor.
“What a scene of devastation,” Saint said ruefully, following her.
Jules was silent a moment, then turned to her husband, blurting out, “What will you do to Byrony?”
“Do? What do you mean?” He cocked his head to one side in question.
“I mean, she’s pregnant!”
“Ah,” he said. He walked to his now thoroughly embarrassed wife and took her hands in his large ones. “Yes, she is pregnant. Yes, I will examine her, thoroughly. She is a patient. I want her to go through childbirth with as little difficulty as possible, and I want her child to be as healthy as possible. That’s all there is to it.”
“You don’t . . . that is, you won’t touch—”
He broke off her pitiful string of words. “Come sit down, Jules.” She did as he bid her, and he moved to stand by the fireplace. “You may be certain that I am not a slave to lust, my dear. As I said, Byrony, outside my office, is a good friend. Once inside my office, she is a patient.”
“But she’s so beautiful!”
“True. And it bothers you that I will be touching her intimately?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s straight talking. In medical school, a long time ago—”
“Not more than nine years!”
“Well, then, nine years ago, when I ws a young man rather than a doctor, I got terribly embarrassed, more than my female patients, I’d wager, when I had to examine them. Embarrassed, not lustful. I remember once that my hands were actually shaking, and my face was red as a beet. But, you see, Jules, that young girl I was examining was very ill. She hurt. She trusted me to make her feel better. The fact that I was a young man made no difference. Pain tends to dissolve embarrassment, you know.”
Jules lowered her head. “You must think I’m an awful fool.”
“Not at all . . . well, just a bit, sweetheart. As my wife, I realize it must be difficult for you to understand that a female patient has no more sexuality to me than a male patient. But it’s true.”
“But I’m not your wife,” she said, and bit down hard on her lower lip.
“Of course you are,” he said sharply, disregarding the true meaning of her words. “Now, do you believe me? Trust me?”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Michael.” She fingered the beautiful emerald necklace about her throat that he’d give her two weeks before. He was so generous to her, so kind, and here she was questioning him like a silly shrew. She wanted to apologize again, but instead she heard herself asking, “Have you gone to see Jane Branigan?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “I would have taken you with me, but I wasn’t certain that it would be wise.”
Jules swallowed a bit painfully. “Did you kiss her?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
Yes, he thought, he had wanted to. He hurt from need. And he didn’t know what to do about it, because he’d promised Jules he’d be faithful. He lied easily: “No.”
“And if Jane got sick, you wouldn’t feel anything if you had to touch her?”
“Of course I’d feel things. I am fond of her, Jules. I would be frightened that she would be too ill for me to help her.”
“And if I were ill?”
He smiled at that. “I’d be scared silly. So don’t get sick, all right?”
Jules felt as though she’d dug a hole a good ten feet deep and leapt into it. She