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so you won’t lose your dollar!”
    “No, I’m not! Here, take the money and see if I care.” Joseph fished a crumpled dollar from his pocket and shoved it toward Yvette.
    John quickly snatched it away, knowing it was a great deal of money for the boy. “Is this your half of the wager?”
    “Yes, sir, but—”
    “And you think you’ve lost your stake because you failed to frighten her?”
    “No, sir, but—”
    “Then why in hell are you handing over your money? Never mind. I’ll just hold on to this.” He waved the note under the boy’s nose. “When you’ve shown me you won’t throw away a month’s wages on a ridiculous gamble, you can have it back. Now pick up that sheet and get out of here before I change my mind!”
    “Yes, sir!”
    The boy grabbed the linen and dashed through the French doors.
    John raked his fingers through his tousled hair, pausing at the base of his neck when his eyes lifted to Charmaine. Her hair was plaited in a thick queue that hung over one shoulder and past her breast. She’d forgotten her robe in her haste to reach the nursery, and the thin nightgown highlighted her unbridled curves and heaving bosom. No wonder Paul found her attractive. He couldn’t have conquered her yet. She was too wide-eyed and innocent to have been with an experienced man.
    “He’s just a boy,” she was saying, unaware of his sensate thoughts.
    “Yes, he’s just a boy,” John agreed, “but he startled the life out of me creeping over to Jeannette like that. I should be paying him!”
    Charmaine smiled, and Yvette snickered.
    “Too bad he didn’t find the right bed.”
    “He wouldn’t have frightened me even if he had,” Yvette objected haughtily.
    “I’m sure,” John laughed, finally seeing the humor in the whole affair. “Let’s get back to bed. Move over, Pierre, and make some room for me.”
    “Johnny?”
    John regarded Jeannette, who’d remained quiet.
    “Joseph said he didn’t come into our room until tonight. So who was it that other time?”
    “It was Joseph. He was just too afraid to admit it.”
    “I don’t think so,” Jeannette reasoned. “Because the first time it happened was before Yvette and Joseph made the wager.”
    John frowned skeptically. “You’ve confused the dates, Jeannette.”
    “I’m sure I haven’t. The first time was the night you came home—the night of that terrible thunderstorm. Remember, Mademoiselle?” Jeannette looked to Charmaine. “The storm was so bad, it even frightened you. That’s when you went to fetch us cookies and milk. You remember, don’t you, Mademoiselle?”
    “I remember,” Charmaine whispered, conscious of John’s eyes upon her, worried her heady memories were publicized on her burning cheeks.
    “That explains a few things I was wondering about,” he murmured thoughtfully. “But it doesn’t tell us when the wager began.”
    “Yes, it does,” Yvette interjected. “You gave me Frankenstein the first morning you were home, and Joseph challenged me after he saw me reading it.”
    “ Frankenstein, ” John grunted. “So, it’s my own fault I’m not getting any sleep tonight.”
    Charmaine was tickled with his assessment.
    “All right. Back to my original theory,” he concluded, “the breeze and a faulty latch, which I’ll fix in the morning.”
    “But, Johnny, I really did see someone else in here!” Jeannette pressed.
    “No, Jeannette, you didn’t. You were dreaming. I promise, nobody has been creeping into this room at night.”
    “Somebody has,” Pierre piped in.
    “Really?” John smiled. “And who would that be?”
    “I’m not ’apposed to tell,” he averred.
    “Please?”
    “Well…sometimes…Mama comes to see me.”
    Everyone inhaled in unison, a huge sibilant sound that held.
    John grasped the boy’s shoulders, stern in disbelief. “What did you say?”
    Pierre remained unaffected, a winsome smile on his face.
    “Pierre,” John persisted, “who did you say visits you at