“Yes, she is,” Del said. “The ladies have graciously consented to have lunch with me. Won’t you join us, Brent?” When Brent paused, Del added, “Surely you don’t have a high-stakes poker game going on at noon?”

Brent forced his eyes away from Byrony and said, “If I did, Del, I’d leave you in a flash. Most of my custome

rs are too impatient for poker, you know. Let them spin a roulette wheel or take their chances at vingt-et-un and they’re happy. So I’ll be happy to join you. Thank you.”

I’m cursed, Byrony thought.

“Mrs. Butler?”

His voice was light, mocking, at least to her sensitive ears. She looked at his offered arm as if it were a snake to bite her.

“I thought,” she said, her eyes lowered as she slipped her hand onto his forearm, “that you were taking Penelope Stevenson riding.”

“Indeed I am, ma’am,” he said, arching a black brow at her. “Surely you don’t expect me to spend all afternoon with you?”

Go to hell, Byrony wanted to say. Instead she said, “Why not, sir? Perhaps you’ll learn how to conduct yourself in the company of ladies.”

Brent threw back his head and laughed deeply. “Instead of what, ma’am?”

“What’s all this?” Del asked.

“Mrs. Butler just informed me that she could beat me at poker. Five-card-stud.”

“Most ladies have many more talents than you gentlemen care to admit to,” Chauncey said. “I’ll wager she can beat you, Brent—yes, indeed I do.”

“Oh yes,” Brent said under his breath to Byrony, “I would wager that you have many talents. I’m simply wondering when I’ll be the lucky recipient.”

“When hell freezes over.”

“Such language from such a perfect little lady.”

TEN

Byrony leaned over Michelle’s crib, making nonsense sounds that made the baby kick her legs and wave her arms in excitement. Byrony laughed and picked her up, hugging her. “You still don’t care who pays attention to you, do you? Well, I understand that in a couple more months you’re going to become very choosy.”

“She has a cold. Put her down.”

Byrony didn’t turn at Irene’s voice, but she felt herself going stiff with dread. “A cold? She seems just fine to me.”

“What would you know about a child?” Irene took Michelle from her, held her tightly against her breasts, and walked to the other end of the nursery.

“I imagine that I could learn a little something, if you’d but let me.”

For many moments Irene merely looked at her, saying nothing. Then, very softly, bitterly, she said, “Don’t you already have everything? Why must you have what is mine?”

“I have nothing,” Byrony said without thinking, then realized she meant it.

“You little fool. You have all the pretty clothes you want, you have nothing to worry your empty head about. You have the Butler name.”

“So do you.”

“Hardly the same thing. God, I wish Ira had never married you.”

So do I, Byrony thought. “Ira married me for you, Irene,” she said, surprised at how very calm and detached she sounded. “I am trying to fulfill my end of the bargain, but you are making it difficult. Why can’t we be friends?”

“I am going to take Michelle out for a while,” Irene said.

“What?” Byrony asked, a bit of irony lacing her voice, “I thought she was so very ill with a cold.”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Star Quartet Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net