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willingness to sacrifice yourself on the altar of filial duty. Not many men
would balk at claiming the luscious Angel as their own, all to appease their
family's expectations. It was a tough job, but what the hell what's that old
saying, 'I could not love thee half so well, if not honor more'? Or something
like that."
"I'm sure you find it all very amusing, but I happen to be in love with
Angel."
"You think I don't know that? She had you walking into doors and falling
down stairwells a week after she arrived. Of course you're in love with her,
dolt! But you sure as hell don't act like it and I have a sneaky hunch you've
never bothered to tell her, either."
"We don't have that sort of relationship."
"Oh, I can believe that. From the way you're behaving, you probably haven't
gotten past the hand- holding stage yet."
Blake flushed slightly. "Oh, we've managed to progress further than that."
"Thank God. I, too, was beginning to doubt your sanity." He leaned closer,
speaking in a confidential tone. "Will you take some advice from an old
friend? Go home and tell your wife you love her and that you're jealous as
hell that she's spending so much time with that French guy. You've got to tell
her how you feel, man. It's the only way."
"Maybe you're right, Jeremy."
"I know I'm right. 'Faint heart never won fair lady.' You've already won her.
You just forgot to claim her."
"I don't know what to do, Jean-Pierre," Angel finally admitted one afternoon
while they walked along one of the paths in the beautifully laid-out Chinese
gardens. "He shows no interest in what I've been doing each day. He rarely
gets home until nine o'clock every night sometimes even later. And when I
ask him how things are going for him, he puts me off with some vague
answer."
"Angel, don't you think you may be overreacting to the situation a little? He
must be very busy to be putting in such long hours. Perhaps he's just tired
and doesn't want to talk about his day."
"If only I knew what he was thinking. He never gives me a clue as to his
feelings. Sometimes I find myself wanting to scream and shout at him in
order to get a reaction."
"But you knew the sort of man he was when you married him," Jean-Pierre
pointed out with undeniable logic.
Angel nodded dispiritedly. "Yes, I did. But he seemed so different on our
honeymoon."
Jean-Pierre laughed. "No man should be judged by his behavior during his
honeymoon. That would hardly be fair!"
She reluctantly smiled in response. "I mean that he was more open and
friendly we seemed to have so much to talk about, so much to share with
each other. He seemed relaxed and happy. Lately he seems so distracted that
even when he's home his mind seems to be somewhere else."
"Why, hello, Angel! I thought that was you!"
Angel glanced around in surprise. Marcia stood at the intersection of two
paths, looking composed and very much in tune with spring in her lovely
pastel- colored skirt and sweater.
"Hello, Marcia. I didn't see you."
Marcia's smile widened. "Oh, that's all right. I almost hated to interrupt, you
seemed so engrossed in your conversation." Her gaze fell on Jean-Pierre.
For some reason Angel felt reluctant to introduce them and knew her attitude
to be ridiculous.
"Marcia, I would like you to meet a friend of mine visiting here from France,
Jean-Pierre Armand. Jean- Pierre, this is Marcia Sinclair. I've been showing
Jean- Pierre San Francisco," she explained.
"I'm so pleased to meet you. I've heard so much about you."
Jean-Pierre gave her a quizzical look, then took her proffered hand in his.
"How do you do? How is it you have heard about me?"
Marcia laughed. "Oh, all of Blake's friends have been talking about the two
of you. They don't understand the situation."
Angel felt a tremor of alarm. Had she been indiscreet in being seen with
Jean-Pierre so much? Blake had never said anything to her. He never asked
about Jean-Pierre, so she didn't bring him into their conversations.
"What situation?" Angel asked faintly.
"Why, the reason behind your marriage. I know about the will," she
whispered, as though conspiring. "You both did what you had to do, which
is understandable. But neither you nor Blake are allowing the situation to
ruin your lives." She glanced at Jean- Pierre. "Do you intend to stay here in
the States until Angel can return to France with you?"
Jean-Pierre stared at the woman as though he had lost his command of the
English language and couldn't understand a word she said.
Angel understood only too well. Blake had told Marcia the truth about their
marriage. No wonder he had told her she could return to France. He fully
expected her to leave. He had never intended their marriage to be permanent.
No wonder Marcia didn't seem to mind.
Her head seemed to be whirling with bits and pieces of conversations she
had shared with Blake. She had heard only what she wanted to hear. She had
interpreted his lovemaking to mean he wanted her to stay with him. How
foolish of her! He had only been making sure she would be leaving as soon
as possible!
Forcing herself to concentrate, she said, "I hope you will excuse us, Marcia.
I have an appointment that I need to keep."
"Don't let me keep you." Marcia smiled at Jean- Pierre. "It was very nice to
meet you. I hope to see you again sometime."
Angel watched her walk away as though a mist were forming around her.
"Angel, are you all right?" Jean-Pierre's voice seemed to come from far
away. She would never be all right again.
By the time Jean-Pierre got her home Angel was shaking as though she had a
hard chill. He suggested hot tea, and Foster agreed to bring it to the library.
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