Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

He raised an incredulous brow. “Laying it on a bit too thick, Giana. Miss Guthrey was a constant thorn in your side. If you are worrying about Miss Guthrey’s future, you needn’t. I gave her a glowing reference.”

“Miss Guthrey wasn’t a really sharp thorn, Alex, and I—”

“Giana, I gave you more than enough time to either settle differences with Miss Guthrey or dismiss her. You did neither. I can see that you do not intend to thank me.”

He was in the right. “Thank you, Alex. And now, will you allow me a surprise for you?”

“You’ve moved my clerks out of the building?”

“Oh no,” she said, smiling brightly. “I am going to let you lend me money for my partnership agreement with Mr. McCormick.”

“McCormick only arrived in New York yesterday,” he said in a neutral voice. “You have certainly moved quickly on this.”

“I saw him this morning, at Astor House. And I signed the agreement. Now, you, Alex, may lend me the necessary funds.”

No wonder the thank-you, he thought. “I would have preferred, Giana,” he said, “that you had reviewed your ideas with me before proceeding. What are we talking about in terms of funds?”

Giana was too excited to hear the chill in his voice. “I would have, Alex,” she said, “spoken to you, that is, but I’ve wanted this ever since the exhibition, and the terms we managed are quite handsome. I need about fifty thousand dollars.”

“You want fifty thousand dollars?” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“I know it does seem like a rather large sum, but the profits, Alex. We shall make it back within a year, and then you’ll be all the richer, what with the interest I’m certain you’ll wring out of me. I might even make you a partner,” she added.

“That is something,” he said. He suspected his words would fall like water off a duck’s back, but he continued in an even voice, “My advice to you, Giana, is to forget any agreement with McCormick at this time. You needn’t worry about complications, for your signature on that agreement won’t hold up legally.”

“Just because I didn’t ask for your holy approval, Alex; you’re being unreasonable. I will not renege on my agreement.”

“It did sound like I’m being a dog in the manger. But it really isn’t the case at all.”

“Then what, Alex? The agreement is straightf

orward, I assure you. Indeed, in some ways, I fashioned it after the Van Cleve/Saxton merger. He needs capital to expand to fill customer orders I shall doubtless soon have rolling in from England. Surely there is nothing unusual or complicated about that.”

“How much time did you spend studying Mr. McCormick’s financial situation?”

Giana shrugged impatiently. “He is having some problems with strikes, and some fools are trying to sue him. But that is nothing to be concerned about, surely.”

“Mr. McCormick,” Alex said slowly, “is up to his bushy eyebrows in lawsuits. Strikes in Chicago have brought production to a standstill. Even with fifty thousand dollars from you, I doubt he can meet your agreement, for first and foremost, he must see to his customers here in America. Back out of the agreement, Giana. Wait a year or so, until you have a clear picture of Mr. McCormick’s financial status.”

“No,” she said. “I think you’re too conservative, Alex. Occasionally you must take risks.”

“I will not lend you the money, Giana, for the reasons I’ve given you. I can’t risk it now. Too much of my capital is tied up in Van Cleve/Saxton, in the shipyard expansion, as you and your mother so charmingly arranged with me.”

“It appears then,” Giana said slowly, her eyes fastened on a daguerreotype of Leah on his desk, “that I shall just have to borrow the money elsewhere.”

“No banker in his right mind would lend it to you, save perhaps at an exorbitant interest rate or an outrageous collateral holding. But,” he said, pausing a brief moment, “there is your mother.”

He knew her mother wasn’t any more likely than he to fund this kind of venture.

“Oh damn,” Giana said.

“Let it go for the time being, princess,” he said.

“The devil I will,” she said, very politely, and left his office.

The carriage rumbled down Broadway and turned smoothly onto Canal Street. Rayburn, Alex thought, a fine lad with the horses, was making it a comfortable ride this evening. He remembered that Giana had not yet met their hosts for the evening, and smiled into the darkness.

“The Archers are New York cre`me de la cre`me,” he drawled in his finest Virginia accent. “Mr. Hamilton Archer could, I believe, if he weren’t such a bloody aristocrat, lock financial horns with Vanderbilt. As it is, he is perfectly content to let his blue blood settle, and, like you, my dear, to be a civilizing influence on us grubbing savages.” It took another moment for Alex to realize he was conducting a monologue. Giana was fast asleep.