A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. Jack turned away with an aching heart. Gerald grinned. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. A remittance man. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. He just walked in a few minutes ago. “Had he better have a nurse? I will be responsible for anything of that sort.
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