Free Dark Masquerade by Jennifer Blake Page A

tree limbs with unfocused eyes, Bernard came into view beneath them with Celestine beside him. His head was bent to her vivid upturned face as she clung to his arm with both hands. They were following the curving path of the drive, strolling apparently without destination.
    “Celestine is at it again, turning Bernard up sweet. She is a heartless jade, but pretty, you must admit. She will be marrying him if he doesn’t look to himself.”
    “Will she?” Elizabeth could not have said why the idea was so unacceptable. She did not like Celestine, but as far as she could see they were well-suited.
    “She expects it, of course. Celestine was cheated of a husband—no offense intended,” he added hastily as Elizabeth glanced quickly across at him. “But Celestine has no objection to Bernard as a substitute. I would not be surprised if she wouldn’t prefer it.”
    “That wouldn’t be jealousy I hear?’ Elizabeth asked lightly. The subject, and the look on Darcourt’s face as he watched the graceful figure of the Creole girl, made Elizabeth vaguely uncomfortable.
    “Possibly.” A wry look crossed his face, and then blossomed into a short laugh. “There won’t be any great hurry about it. If I know Celestine, and I think I do—she has never bothered to hide her feelings from me because I am not good, affluent husband material—she will wait to see if the Delacroix still have money when this recession talk dies down.”
    “Are you serious?” Elizabeth asked, turning her eyes back to the couple moving slowly down the gravel drive.
    Darcourt frowned as he stared after them also. “I’m not quite sure. I wish I was.”
    Silence descended over them and Elizabeth was thinking of an excuse to go back into the house when there came a shout.
    “Darcourt! I have done it again! I left silly Denise primping and perfuming for you and—”
    The girl Elizabeth had seen earlier that morning in the hall stopped short as she saw Elizabeth. Her face lost the gleeful gaiety that had given it animation and stood with wide eyes that were strangely frightened.
    “What was it you did, chère?” Darcourt spoke to her in a soft teasing voice. He held out his hand and she came to stand beside his chair, leaning against his shoulder.
    “It wasn’t anything,” she murmured with her eyes on the floor.
    “Theresa, have you met our new sister-in-law?”
    The girl shook her head, drawing close to. Darcourt until she was almost hiding behind his chair. She seemed tall for her age, nearly as tall as Elizabeth, and unaccountably shy for a girl who must be almost ready to leave the schoolroom.
    “Ellen Marie, my sister Theresa.” He took his sister’s hand, pressing it as if to give her courage, and drawing her forward. “This lady, Theresa, was Felix’s wife, the mother of the baby I am sure you have heard.”
    “Oh, yes!” The color crept back into Theresa’s oval face. “They would not let me see him. I expect it is because—”
    She glanced at Darcourt and he said, “Because you have been ill.”
    “Yes. You have to be careful with babies, don’t you?”
    Elizabeth agreed, a sense of disquiet touching her as she saw the avid interest that replaced the shyness in Theresa’s eyes. Then, as she acknowledged the introduction and asked the polite, impersonal questions expected, memory stirred. Although it was nearly midday, Theresa still wore her dressing gown. Her feet were bare and the thick rope of her dark hair hung over her shoulder. Earlier, in the hall, the girl had been wearing a dress, not a gown and wrapper. But perhaps she had been sent back to bed because of her illness, Elizabeth told herself, and dismissed it. Or she tried. But something about Theresa troubled her. The girl that stood before her with her dressing gown to the floor barely covering her slipperless feet seemed older than the girl she had seen so briefly in the hall with her skirts halfway to her ankles. She found herself wondering what she would look