Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [72]
He sighed, undressed quickly, and slipped in beside her. Too late he realized he should have worn one of the nightshirts Jane had made for him. She didn’t awaken, but before he fell asleep, she was curled up next to him, her slender arm thrown over his chest.
Saint, a light sleeper, awoke immediately at the sound of knocking on the front door. It was barely dawn. He rose instantly, and dressed more quickly than he ever had in his life. He took one last look at his sleeping wife, now curled up on her side, before he slipped out of the bedroom.
There were three scruffy-looking individuals, two of them supporting the third, whose face was pale and drawn with pain. “Limpin’ Willie told us to bring you old Sam here, Doc. He got hisself knifed in the back.”
Saint sighed, wondering if the knife wound, which turned out not to be too bad, was the result of a victim fighting back. Sam pressed fifty dollars in his hand an hour later, and staggered out again, supported by his friends.
Jules was so excited she could scarcely sit still in the swaying carriage. Thomas, his costume that of a pirate, complete with a black eye patch, looked dashing. Saint wore a black broadcloth suit and a long black velvet cloak and a black velvet mask.
“Your stays too tight, little sister?” Thomas asked her. “You’re jumping about like one of those Mexican beans I read about.”
“Oh no, I just can’t wait to get there. Michael, we’ve never waltzed together before. And Chauncey told me that the orchestra is all the way from Sacramento. Do you really like my costume? Agatha said I look the perfect shepherdess, and if she had any sheep, she’d give—”
“Lord, do you run on, Jules!”
Saint took her hand into his. He wanted to tell her that she looked so exquisite in the draped white gown that he wanted to touch and kiss every inch of her, dressed and undressed. “You are perfect,” he said in a light voice. “I also like your hair piled up like that—most effective. Ignore your brother. Brothers aren’t supposed to appreciate their sisters.”
“Everyone will know who you are, Jules,” Thomas said, eyeing her hair, “even with your mask on.”
And everyone did, of course. But Jules didn’t care. Even if she’d been completely disguised, Saint’s size would have given her away.
They waltzed, chatted with friends, admired costumes, mentally counted the money the ball was bringing in, and drank champagne. Saint had watched Bunker Stevenson very closely when they’d arrived. If he had been one of the men at the Crooked House that night, he didn’t show it. Even when Saint looked him straight in the face, his eyes hard and flat as he introduced Jules, Bunker showed no sign of recognition or embarrassment. He hadn’t been at the Crooked House, Saint thought. As for the others, doubtless many were here and they would recognize Jules. But they would say nothing. They wouldn’t dare. He grinned at Penelope, gowned in a dampened Regency-style dress, her very nice nose in the air, as was her wont.
But Penelope was excited, even though she had no trouble disguising the fact.
Until she met Thomas.
“Well,” said Penelope, eyeing Thomas without much interest, “I understand that you are Mrs. Morris’ brother. Good evening, Mrs. Morris.”
Jules merely nodded.
“Yes,” Thomas said pleasantly to Penelope, “quite a curse, wouldn’t you agree? But then again, she’s such a beautiful curse and she makes me laugh.”
Penelope, who had been ready to dismiss the young man, retrenched, deciding to give him just a bit of her attention. “I have decided I will waltz with you, Mr. DuPres,” she said, offering him a dazzling smile.
“Your decision is gratifying, Miss Stevenson, but I haven’t asked you, ma’am. I do believe I’m thirsty. Jules, would you like a glass of champagne?”
It required all Jules’s efforts to keep from bursting out laughing. Penelope, red-faced, was staring at Thomas, her hands clenched at her sides.
“That was marvelous, Thomas,” Jules said softly as