Wildstar

"Devlin has moved his headquarters here!"

"Several weeks ago. You didn't know?"

"No," Jess said faintly.

"Well, I doubt he will have much difficulty settling in. He can buy and sell stocks here almost as easily as in Chi­cago, now that telegraphs and telephones have made com­munication so easy. I have invited Mr. Devlin to use my telephone, in fact, until his is operational."

Jess looked at Riley, only to find him watching her. Suddenly restless, she jumped up to clear away the dishes and bring the cherry pie to the table.

"Did I say something wrong?" Burke asked into the si­lence.

"Jess hasn't done much talking to Devlin lately," Riley responded evenly.

Burke tactfully refrained from commenting. "Did you receive the invitation I sent you for next week, Jessica?" he said, changing the subject.

"Yes, thank you." Carefully saying nothing more, she began to cut pie wedges. Three days ago a gold-embossed card had been hand-delivered by one of Ashton Burke's fancy footmen, inviting her and Riley to the evening party Burke was giving Monday after next.

The idea of attending one of Burke's society functions didn't much appeal to Jess, although she was reluctant to hurt his feelings by telling him so. He had been trying so hard to make up for his past failures that she felt almost obliged to be nice to him.

In fact, to her surprise she'd begun to see Burke in a different light. Just as Devlin had suggested, Ashton Burke wasn't all bad. The fact that he'd loved her mother and re­gretted not marrying her made his subsequent actions, though not forgivable, at least more understandable.

"There will be dancing and supper," Burke said encour­agingly. "And perhaps a few hands of cards. I should be honored if you would attend. And Riley, as well, naturally."

"Well, we'll see," Riley replied.

Jess was grateful to her father for sparing her the neces­sity of answering, for she had just thought of another rea­son she didn't want to attend Burke's party. As cozy as he and Devlin had apparently become, Devlin might very well be there. And she just didn't know if she had the strength to face him. Her wounds were too raw.

In fact, she didn't know if they would ever heal. For the past month, she'd prayed that Devlin would just leave town and get out of her life so she could begin to recover. But now it looked as if he truly was here to stay.

Could she bear it, knowing he was so close and yet so far away?

That night, after Burke had long gone, after she and Riley had shared a cold supper and the dishes had been put away, Jess found herself pondering that question for the hundredth time. Too restless to sleep, she draped a shawl over her shoulders and went outside to sit on the back step.

The fall air was crisp and frosty, the ebony sky diamond-studded with thousands of stars which looked close enough to touch. Jess couldn't enjoy the beautiful night, though. She was hurting too much.

Resting her forehead on her updrawn knees, she silently cursed Garrett Devlin. "Wherever you are," she muttered, "I hope you're half as miserable as I am."

Ten minutes later the kitchen door creaked open behind her, accompanied by a spill of lanternlight. It was followed by Riley's gentle voice stealing out to meet her.

"You okay, Jess?"

"No," she mumbled truthfully.

There was a long, concerned silence.

"You want me to fetch the doc?"

Jess gave a choked laugh. "I don't think Doc Wheeler could fix what's wrong with me."

Without replying, Riley came out to join her, shutting the door behind him and enfolding them again in darkness. Settling himself beside her on the top step, he found her hand and entwined her fingers with his rough, calloused ones. Jess felt immensely comforted. Riley might not be her blood father, but she'd never felt closer to him.

It was some time before he finally spoke, but he didn't give her the sympathetic condolences Jess had hoped to hear.

"Don't you think you're being a bit hard on him?" Riley asked.

It took a second for her to realize he was taking Dev­lin's side. She took a deep breath, trying to control her in­dignation. "I'm being hard?"

"Judging a man guilty without even giving him a chance to explain. . . . Seems to me that isn't quite fair, Jess."