Free The Valentine Legacy by Catherine Coulter

more. You call her ‘little honey’? That’s enough to make a man puke.”
    â€œI like ‘little honey.’ Be quiet, James. You’re just mad because I saved Sweet Susie and you didn’t. Your wounded vanity is becoming tedious.”
    â€œDamn you, Jessie. That has nothing to do with my wounded vanity and you well know it.”
    â€œNow that’s enough, Mr. James. I don’t want the child to come down with a fever.”
    â€œNo, you want her to eat so much she’ll be too fat to get through the door and then she’ll be forced to stay here and complain about everything. You see anything else that needs fixing, Jessie? There’s not much wrong with this wallpaper, dammit.”
    Old Bess arranged the tray on Jessie’s lap, then beamed down at her. “Now, you just eat all I brung you, Jessie. It’ll make your head feel like a plump healthy raisin in no time a’ t’all.”
    â€œA plump raisin with a bald spot,” James said.
    â€œYou need fixing, James. I’m sorry, Bess, but I’m not very hungry.”
    â€œYou would be if Mr. James weren’t here twitting you. Out with you, both of you.”
    James said over his shoulder as he walked through thedoor after Oliver Warfield, “Eat, Jessie. I’d rather have you fat than a skinny little brat who presses her nose against windows.”
    â€œWhat’s that you say, James?” Oliver Warfield said.
    Jessie closed her eyes, her fingers crumbling a slice of bacon. She heard James say, “Actually I was referring to the ceiling of your office in the stables, not windows. I was referring to her ears, not her nose.”
    â€œOh,” Oliver said. “That was strange how far afield you got.”
    Â 
    When Mrs. Warfield, Glenda, and the carriage arrived to take Jessie home, James had planned to be gone. He had a warning system in place. Gypsom, Oslow’s assistant, was supposed to whistle twice, and James would mount Tinpin and ride like the wind. But the plan didn’t come off as it should have. James froze on the first step of the stairs as Thomas opened the door to greet Mrs. Warfield and Glenda. What the devil had happened to Gypsom and his plan?
    â€œMrs. Warfield,” he said, pulling himself together. “A pleasure, ma’am. Glenda. I was just bringing Jessie some tea. Where’s Oliver?”
    â€œWe are your saviors, James,” Glenda said, sweeping toward him, her delicious bosom leading the way. “We’ve come to relieve you of Jessie. Has she been complaining much? She usually does. I’m sure it’s been difficult for you.”
    â€œNo difficulties. Jessie’s feeling much better today. Would you like to accompany me or perhaps wait here in the parlor?”
    â€œOh, we’ll come,” Glenda said, and walked toward him, her eyes on his crotch. She stood beside him on that bottom step, her breasts brushing his arm. Mrs. Warfield just beamed at the two of them. “Yes,” she said, “let’s go see dear Jessie.”
    Dear Jessie was feeling very low. Her head ached viciously. James wouldn’t let her read the Federal Gazette , telling her it would just make her head hurt more. She was bored. She wanted James here so they could argue—that or she could just look at him. When he suddenly appeared in the doorway, she felt as if the sun had just burst through black clouds. She gave him a big smile. Then she saw Glenda and her mother sweeping past him, bearing down on her, and her smile dissolved into the wainscotting.
    â€œAh, my dearest Jessie,” said Mrs. Warfield, frowning at her daughter.
    â€œWell, sister, don’t you look ugly with your hair all frazzled and that silly bandage around your forehead.”
    James briefly closed his eyes.
    â€œHello, Mother, Glenda. I’m fine, I just look bad. Where’s Papa?”
    â€œYour dear papa didn’t have the time to come to