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“I’ve noticed,” Jennifer said slowly, “that nobody ever talks about her.”
Constancia’s mouth thinned. “Why would they? She left when Susanna was only a few months old.”
It was hard for Jennifer to get her head around that. Her heart ached for a child she’d never even seen, and Roarke’s wife had walked off and left her own child behind.
“Has she ever been back to see Susu?”
“She has been back, sí, but it was not her love for the child that brought her.” Constancia wiped her hands on her apron. “What is between them will never end.”
An icy hand seemed to close around Jennifer’s heart.
“Is it—is what they feel for each other that powerful?”
“What he feels for her is more powerful than I can describe.”
Jennifer nodded. Why did it hurt to hear that despite whatever had happened between Roarke and his wife, he still wanted her?
There was a silence, and then the housekeeper cleared her throat.
“You have spent much time with Susu the past days.”
“She’s a sweetheart.”
“You are good with her, señorita. And good for her. She flourishes like a flower under your touch. Her nanny is a nice woman, but there is something special between you and our little girl.”
Too special.
Jennifer knew she was getting attached to Roarke’s daughter. When the time finally came to leave the island, she would miss Susu desperately.
And, oh, she would miss Roarke…
“Susu is not the only one who flourishes, yes?”
Jennifer looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that Señor Campbell is very happy, too.” Constancia took a knife from the rack and began honing it on a sharpening stone. “I have not seen him this way in a long time.”
A little rush of pleasure raced through Jennifer’s veins. “Really?”
The housekeeper nodded. “He laughs, he smiles—and he comes home early every night.”
“Well, I suppose he’s—he’s being polite.”
Constancia grinned. “You think so? I think he is not a man much given to worrying about what is polite and what is not, señorita. If the Governor himself were here and Señor Campbell did not wish to talk with him, he would not do so.”
Jennifer laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am right. To see him seated opposite you at the dining-room table every night, talking and smiling instead of eating alone with his nose tucked into the newspaper—” The older woman sighed. “It is something I have not seen before.”
Jennifer touched her tongue to her lips. “Not since—since his divorce, you mean?”
Constancia’s black eyes snapped. “Nor before that, either. His wife did not like to spend her evenings at home. She did not deserve him, that is certain.”
“Why did she leave him?”
The housekeeper’s face darkened. “For another man.”
“What woman in the world would leave Roarke for another man?” The words were out before Jennifer could stop them. She was saying too much.
