Her Valentine

Proserpina

I felt awful, clutching my stomach as I lay, trying to hold down nausea. It was close to midnight and I remembered belatedly that it was Valentine’s Day.

Smiling ruefully, I rolled over.

My husband had never bothered with such things. He would probably have looked askance at me if I had said anything about it.

I sighed and swung my legs o my feet. Lucien was on his way to Argentina and I wished he had not had to go. Schwartz had called to make sure I was okay, sweet man that he was. He had been on the way to attend a charity ball.

It had amazed me. The Handsome James I knew would have run a mile from such fake events.

He had sounded gruffly embarrassed when I had prodded him and finally he had said, exasperated,

“Okay, I am accompanying a friend who needed an escort.

I had dissolved in peals of laughter at that and he had joined in after a while, chuckling good-naturedly.

My curiosity had been piqued,

“Who is she, James, tell me?’ I said teasingly.

“Aww…stop it, Proserpina.’