Chapter 15

THE EXPRESSION IN JAMIE’S EYES WAS ONE OF ANGRY BEWILDER-ment, but Peony seemed to understand Bliss’s fury. She rose from her chair, fidgeting with the tie on her beautiful green wrapper, and said, “It’s not what you think.”

Jamie looked back at Peony in annoyance. “And what is it that she thinks?” he snapped.

“I can speak for myself, Jamie McKenna,” Bliss flared. “You needn’t go asking somebody else how I feel about things!”

He sighed, and a tiny muscle in his jawline twitched, then went still. “All right, Duchess,” he said evenly, “’ave it your way. What the devil’s goin’ on in that erratic little brain of yours that would make you throw your shoes at a man? Answer me that!”

Bliss jutted out her chin. “You have your fair share of brass demanding answers, Mr. McKenna!” she retorted. “How dare you flaunt your mistress under my nose like this!”

“I’m nothing of the sort,” Peony interceded, fixing Bliss with a cool glare, “and I’ll thank you to remember that, young lady.” With these words, she swept into the suite’s small second bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

Bliss swallowed and made herself meet Jamie’s gaze. She waited for him to shout and rage at her, but he didn’t. He gave her a look that made her feel small and silly, and then he turned around and walked out of the suite, pausing only to collect his hat and coat.

It was all Bliss could do not to run after him and beg him not to be angry with her. How it galled her that she wanted to do that, when he was the one who’d transgressed!

She glanced toward the door of Peony’s room. She felt so confused, and though she wanted to believe the woman’s words, every jealous nerve in her body told her otherwise.

Bliss turned her attention to preparing for the day. She intended to seek out Mrs. Wilmington, the American widow, and be interviewed for the position of companion.

Never mind that she no longer wanted to live in America. It was obvious enough that Jamie was never going to be a real husband, and love him though she did, Bliss refused to overlook infidelity. Nor would she live in a house he provided, catering to his every whim like some besotted concubine, existing only for the crumbs of attention he deigned to toss her way.

She found Mrs. Wilmington in the dining room, having breakfast, and with that good lady’s permission, Bliss joined her. It seemed that nothing could affect her appetite; she was famished. She ordered bacon and eggs with fried potatoes and toast and summarily charged the meal to Jamie’s bill.

Not that he’d care, one way or the other.

Mrs. Wilmington, clad in a daunting amount of black sateen, broke into Bliss’s fretful thoughts with an announcement. “I have decided to leave for Sacramento in precisely one week.” She sighed, her sizable bosom jutting out over her platter of eggs, beef hash, and pancakes. “It’s so difficult to think of sailing away without my dear Piedmont.”