Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

Giana saw Miss Guthrey stiffen. She wondered why. Was it being called a governess that had offended her? How could that be, unless she were something more—a mistress, perhaps. Giana said to Leah, “I am rather tired now, Leah. Tomorrow morning, would you like to have breakfast with your papa and me? We can get acquainted and I will tell you all about our exciting ocean voyage.”

“Leah usually breakfasts with me,” Amanda Guthrey said.

“Well,” Giana said pleasantly, “that was very thoughtful of you. But now that I’m here, Leah will breakfast with her father and me.” She ran her fingers over a particularly vile row of yellow lace at the child’s throat. “Perhaps, Leah,” she continued, “we could go shopping together. Would you like that?”

“Leah is used to a dressmaker coming here to fit her clothes,” Miss Guthrey said. “She does not like crowds.”

Alex watched, fascinated, as Giana said with all the hauteur of a grande dame, “Perhaps her dressmaker will appreciate my instructing her on what is suitable for a nine-year-old girl with Leah’s coloring.”

“I like to feed the ducks in the park,” Leah said.

“It is also one of my favorite pastimes, Leah,” Giana said, “particularly after I’ve been shopping.”

She looked down into Leah’s eyes—Alex’s eyes—and felt a tug of protectiveness. She had had a Miss Guthrey once, certainly not as pretty or as seemingly possessive as this one, but a governess nonetheless. And she had been so lonely. The child deserved much more, and Giana intended to see that she received it, both from her and from Alex.

“Actually,” she said in a low voice to the child, taking her small hand in hers, “the ocean crossing was vile, and I was embarrassingly ill. I must rest now, Leah, but tomorrow you and I will shop and feed ducks and”—she raised her voice so Alex would hear her—“your father will take us to a very elegant restaurant for lunch and ice cream.”

“A fine idea,” Alex said. “I will make sure your stepmama is in the top of her form tomorrow, puss.”

There was a screech behind the teapot.

“How dare he. He is married. And to an Englishwoman.”

Derry Lattimer set down her fork as she watched her stepdaughter wad up the newspaper in a snit and hurl it to the carpet.

“How could he?” Jennifer said again, her fist setting the scrambled eggs trembling on her plate.

“How could who do what, Jennifer?” Derry asked, swallowing a tired sigh.

“Mr. Alexander Nicholas Saxton, that’s who. How could he do this to me?”

“I wasn’t aware that Mr. Saxton had ever encouraged you, Jennifer,” Derry said calmly. “Besides, you know your father doesn’t approve of him.”

Jennifer waved away her father’s opinions. “Daddy would have come around. He always comes around when it’s something I truly want. And now Alex is married, dammit.”

“An Englishwoman? How interesting. Does the paper give her name?”

Jennifer retrieved the wadded society page and smoothed it out. “Mrs. Alexander Saxton, daughter of the Duchess of Graffton, is sailing with her husband on the Halyon to New York. The former Miss Georgiana Van Cleve—”

“Giana. Dear heavens, Alex has married Giana Van Cleve. Do you not remember her, Jennifer? She was my best friend at school.”

“That flat-chested little snirp?” Jennifer said. “Alex wouldn’t look at her twice.”

“Four years is a long time, Jennifer,” Derry said dryly, “and bosoms do fill out. I’ll thank you to moderate your language. Giana Van Cleve is anything but a snirp. Indeed, she is a first-rate businesswoman, her mother’s partner in Van Cleve Enterprises. Dear heavens,” she said again, sitting back in her chair. “Giana married to Alex. How very odd.”

“If they left England—goodness, they’ve arrived by now. What do you mean, how very odd?”

Derry smiled. “From Giana’s letters, I had got the impression she never intended to marry. And now the both of us are married to American businessmen.”

Jennifer dropped her eyes again to the paper. “It says that Mr. Saxton was in London to negotiate a merger with the Van Cleves. He must have married her to get hold of her money. He probably owns the Van Cleves now.”

To her chagrin, Derry burst into gay laughter. “Oh no, Jennifer. Giana

is as hardheaded as Alex, and so is her mother. If she married him, it could only mean that she finally fell in love.”

“It still doesn’t mean he loves her,” Jennifer said. “He doesn’t even like the English, with all their peers and titles. I heard him say once that if you weren’t a lord in England, you are best off learning to be a servant. And her steppapa is a duke.”

Aurora Van Cleve married as well, Derry thought. It must have been quite recent, else Giana would have written her about it. And why hadn’t Giana written about her own wedding?