“I say, James,” Giff said, “I approve your choice of brides. I hope she can still ride a horse after the way she’s changed.”
Ursula said, “Is it true that Jessie’s pregnant? Mother was going on and on about it, her lips all tight and pursed.”
“Yes. You can give me even more congratulations.”
“So you did ruin her,” Alice said.
“No, Alice, Jessie isn’t all that pregnant, only about two months along, we think. I need to call Dr. Hoolahan over to Marathon to examine her.”
“Oh, here’s Nelda,” Alice said. “Excuse me, James, Ursula. Nelda and I are having tea tomorrow.” Alice waved as she walked away. James looked down at his sister. “Would you care to dance, Ursula?”
When they were on the dance floor, James kept their movements sedate. He said, “I know you wonder why I married Jessie. As always, you’re willing to bide your time. You have more patience than Job, Urs. You never let Mother rile you. I sincerely hope Giff appreciates you fully.”
“Giff is a smart man, James. Of course he appreciates me.” His sister gave him an impish smile. “Now tell me why you married Jessie Warfield, your nemesis on the racetrack.”
He said, “To be blunt, I married her because I wanted to. It’s as simple as that. She’s a marvelous girl. We share many interests, as you know.”
“I’m not upset that I’ll never know the whole truth, James. Mother is fairly chomping at the bit. I do hope she doesn’t begin to attack Jessie once that beautiful Duchess has returned to England with her equally beautiful husband.”
“If she does, then I shall have to call you to help me shut her mouth.”
Ursula laughed, a deep, full-bodied laugh that sounded just like her husband’s. “I will wish us both luck,” she said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss her brother’s cheek.
“Ah,” James said after he’d returned her to Giff. “Compton. Come on, let’s have a brandy and talk about Le Cid. It’s a marvelous play. You’re the scholar here, tell me how accurate it is.”
They spoke in French, James insisting. “If I don’t speak French occasionally, my mouth muscles refuse to work properly,” he said, and laughed. They spoke of the French playwright’s plays for some time, enjoying themselves thoroughly. James said after a pause, “Oh, Compton, do you know if our esteemed magistrate, Mr. Dickens, has managed to uncover anything about Allen Belmonde’s death?”
Compton shook his head. “No, he just dithers around, then goes home to bed his new bride. I’ve never before seen a man so smitten. Well, perhaps you fill the bill as well, James. I’ve watched you look at Jessie tonight. Your bride looks lovely.”
“I fill the besotted bill?” James asked in some surprise. “I’m very fond of Jessie, and the good Lord knows I savor all the other joys a man is offered in marriage.”
“You would be a wily diplomat,” Compton said, and laughed. “Did Jessie enjoy the latest diary I gave her?”
“Well, yes she did, actually. It’s quite a coincidence about diaries, actually. You’ll never believe what she remembered.” James paused, frowning at himself, then continued easily, “Well, never mind that. Tell me about your latest violin recital, Compton. I was sorry to miss it.”
James listened politely. Spying Jessie across the room, he smiled at her. She was having an animated discussion with Marcus, but seeing James, she smiled back.
Once Compton had finished describing his recital, James inquired again about Allen Belmonde. “Gordon has no ideas at all? No one he can suspect?”
“No, not really.”
“Mortimer Hackey hasn’t bothered Alice, has he, Compton?”
“Not that I know of. I do know that Giff has been keeping an eye on him. He’s dealing with all Allen’s banking affairs, you know.”
“Good,” James said, wondering what Mortimer was up to. In James’s experience, men like Mortimer Hackey didn’t give up easily. He said as much to his brother-in-law a few moments later when he caught him alone. “I appreciate it, Giff. I can’t help it. I just feel protective of Alice.” He shook his head at himself. “So Gordon hasn’t said a thing to you either?”
“Nothing directly pertaining to Allen’s death, but he did say that one of his dock rats, as he calls them, told him that it was Belmonde who was behind that incident with Jessie—when someone tried to run her down. Apparently Belmonde hired a ruffian to do it. I can’t understand why, but there it is.”
James stared at Giff in utter disbelief. This was the first he’d heard of the incident. “What did you say? Jessie what? Someone almost ran her down? She’s never said a word of it to me, curse her hide.” He turned around to stare at his wife, and this time he wasn’t smiling. She blinked at him in surprise.
“Yes, that’s right. I assumed you knew. Gordon heard that Allen might have hired a man to do it. Gordon asked me if I could think of any reason why Allen would want Jessie dead—he didn’t come to me until after both of you had left for England. I told him I couldn’t think of anything other than that she always used to beat him racing. Then she saved Sweet Susie from those thieves. He seemed pleased enough with her then as I remember, at least until she threatened to butcher him after he threatened you.”
“This is nonsense and I’m going to kill her,” James said, plowed his fingers through his hair, and turned abruptly on his heel. “I will speak to you later, Giff.”
Why the hell hadn’t she ever said anything about it to him? Why hadn’t anyone else said anything to him? He stopped a foot from his wife, who greeted him with a wide smile and a soft look in those green eyes of hers that somehow looked greener between her gown and her shining hair.
“Jessie.”