Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [71]
“Yes, he should,” Saint said, relieved at her abrupt change of topic. “I’ve been thinking about him, and probably the best thing for him would be to go back East, perhaps to New York, to medical school.”
“But he’s so young!”
“Not at all. He’s twenty-two, isn’t he?”
She nodded.
He found himself looking at her closely. She looked beautiful, he was used to that, but she also looked a bit pale and too thin. He frowned. Surely she couldn’t be lonely. Chauncey and Agatha both spent a good deal of time with her—she was always visiting Chauncey to play with Alexandra. Now that Byrony and Brent were back, he was certain she would become friends with Byrony.
He had forced himself not to touch her. He couldn’t bear it. When he went to bed at night, he was careful to keep his door closed. It was another tangible barrier that kept her safe from him. Even when he woke up during the night, his breathing harsh, his groin aching, he’d see that closed door.
“Jules,” he said suddenly, “are you happy?”
He saw her quiver, but she didn’t look up at him. No, I feel like I’m living a half-life. I’m frightened that Wilkes will take me every time I leave the house. I’m afraid that Wilkes will send men after you.
“Of course,” she said, forcing her head up. He flinched at the haunted look in her eyes, but he didn’t know what to do. Dammit, he thought, so frustrated that he wanted to yell. How much longer could they continue living like this? He knew she had to have time, time to forget, to heal, but God, it hurt. He heard himself say in a tight, very controlled voice, “I want you to be happy.”
“Yes,” she said, “I know that you do.”
The day before the subscription ball, Thomas DuPres arrived in San Francisco. He looked fit, handsome, and darkly tanned, and Jules didn’t want to let him out of her sight. He limped only slightly. Saint, pleased to see his wife laughing, chattering like a magpie, her face flushed with pleasure, sat back drinking a brandy, watching the two of them. Unlike Jules, Thomas had brownish-red hair and his eyes were brown. But, he saw, they both were possessed of the same stubborn chin.
“I must say, Thomas,” he said during a brief lull in the conversation, “you’re looking much better than I thought you would. No more pain?”
“Narry a bit, Saint. Reverend Baldwin gave me a clean bill of health three weeks ago, said my leg was mending just fine, then told me to fatten up before I came here. He said you’d blame him, Saint, if I showed up on your doorstep looking like a scarecrow. Jules,” he continued to his sister, “we’ve both been disowned by our father, but I didn’t think you’d mind particularly.”
“No, not really,” Jules said. “Thomas, is Sarah happy now? Is she all right?”
“If you mean by that is she pregnant,” he said in a hard voice, “the answer is no, she isn’t. She is the most godawful female, and now with John Bleecher gone, she’s become a total shrew.”
Saint saw that Jules was upset, and said quickly, “Perhaps things will be better for her soon.”
Thomas threw his brother-in-law an incredulous look, but said nothing.
It was nearly midnight when Jules yawned loudly. “Time for you to go to bed, sweetheart,” Saint said, rising with her. “Thomas and I will be up shortly. You can take him about tomorrow.” He gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek. Thomas squeezed her tightly, and held her a moment.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Thomas,” she said. “Oh, you’ll be in the spare bedroom, second door on your right upstairs.” With those words, she left the two men alone, one smiling, the other staring after her, the meaning of her words like a death knell in his mind. He’d been an idiot not to realize that Jules would have to move back into his bedroom. He closed his eyes a moment, picturing her in a pristine, virginal nightgown, curled up beside him.
“Saint, you want another brandy?”
He shook his head. Thomas kept him up another hour, discussing medicine. If Thomas noticed that his brother-in-law was distracted, he was polite enough to ignore it.
Please let her