Chauncey giggled, clearly distracted, as Jules had hoped she would be. “Lord, how I would love being a fly on the wall in the same room with your brother and dear Penelope. As to any transformation, I should live so long! What do you think?”
“Oddly enough, Thomas likes her. He says beneath all those layers of shrewisness beats only half a shrewish heart.”
“I wish him luck. Oh, incidentally, the most ironic thing has happened. I suppose it’s divine justice and all that. Did Saint tell you about the Butlers up and leaving San Francisco just yesterday?”
“Who are the Butlers?” Jules asked.
“Oh dear, I should have known Saint wouldn’t say a thing about it.”
“The cat’s escaped, Chauncey, you might as well tell me.”
“It’s a rather long story.”
Jules groaned. “Not another storyteller.”
“All right, it’s a very short story. You see, Ira Butler married Byrony DeWitt, who is now Byrony Hammond. He married her because, in truth, his half-sister, Irene, was pregnant with his child.”
Jules could only stare at her.
“My sentiments exactly,” Chauncey said. “In any case, Byrony agreed to pretend that she was pregnant and that Irene’s child was hers. She didn’t know then that the child was the result of an incestuous union. She found that out later. Del had the marriage annulled, and Byrony married Brent. It always bothered me that the Butlers got away with their deception, for Byrony was hurt very badly. Just a couple of days ago, if what I’ve heard is right, a new maid walked in on them, in bed. Their house of cards collapsed. I understand they’ve left to return to Baltimore. Now, that wasn’t too long or too involved, was it?”
“What it is is amazing. Poor Byrony, I had no idea—”
“Not many people do. Just our little group, I suppose you’d say. Now, my dear, I think I’ll leave you alone. Saint told me not to tire you.”
“Oh, Chauncey. How much money did the ball make for the Hammonds and Wakeville?”
“Nearly fifteen thousand dollars,” Chauncey said, preening a bit. “Both Brent and Byrony are esctatic, needless to say. Now, you rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jules wondered before she indeed fell asleep why people’s lives were never so simple as one would imagine. Her first thought upon waking several hours later was: Tonight I’m going to seduce my husband. I’ll prove to him that his nobility is no longer necessary. The next time I see Jameson Wilkes, if there is a next time, I’ll stick my pregnant stomach out at him.
She giggled.
18
“Jesus, I’m tired.”
Jules looked at her husband and smiled. You won’t be soon. She said, “I’m sorry. A difficult patient?”
“Make that plural. How do you feel, sweetheart?”
“Just fine, top form and all that, and you aren’t going to sleep downstairs tonight, are you?”
Saint swallowed, automatically drawing back from her. “I
don’t want to disturb your sleep,” he said.
“But what if I wake up during the night, ill? Do you want me to crash a chair against the floor?”
Saint sighed. “I suppose I could sleep in the guestroom with Thomas.”
“In that case, I could simply shout, I suppose,” Jules said calmly, watching him closely. “Of course, that might hurt my head dreadfully.”
Saint floundered about for reasons, any reason in fact, to stay away from her. Finding none for the moment, he said, eyeing the tub, “You had a bath.”
“Yes, and Lydia washed my hair for me.”
“I see,” he said, beginning to inch toward the door.