Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“I, my dear, am not pregnant.”

The Archer mansion looked like a white-pillared Southern plantation house sprawled over an entire block off Third Avenue. There was even a black butler to greet them and take their wraps. Soon, Alex knew, Giana would be separated from him, the gentlemen of business she assaulted fated not only for her charm but for her endless curiosity about what they did and how they did it. He supposed the women would eye her dubiously, all save Derry, but when she spoke to them, they would probably hold to her every word, for it was now common knowledge that her mother was a duchess. He saw her sizing up the aristocratic-looking Mr. Archer, and said, “If you begin to feel tired, tell me, Giana. We can leave whenever you wish. Promise me.”

She cocked her head up at him, a puzzled expression in her eyes. “I feel marvelous, Alex. Are you worried just because I had a pleasant dream in the carriage?”

Alex had no time to reply, for an equally blue-blooded Mrs. Hamilton Archer was bearing down on them, a mammoth ostrich feather, dyed a dazzling orange, swaying among the ringlets on top of her head.

“My dear Mr. Saxton,” she said, stretching his name out endlessly. “And this is your charming bride. My dear, I have heard the oddest thing. Mr. McCormick—so bearish-looking, you know—has been telling me about your business dealings. I, of course, thought he meant Mr. Saxton, and I confess to an unladylike gasp when he hastened to tell me it was Mrs. Saxton he was dealing with. But don’t I go on. Come, my dears, and meet Mr. Archer. He has been talking all evening of the English lady who runs her own businesses.”

“Oh God,” Giana said, holding tightly to Alex’s arm.

“That will teach you to be so unnatural, Giana. That is one lady I doubt will allow you to get in one word edgewise.”

Hamilton A

rcher gazed down at the lovely creature before him and allowed a tight smile. She was English, he remembered, and of the aristocracy. His eyes fell to her lovely white shoulders and her breasts. His smile loosened a bit. The English were eccentric, and the wealthier they were, the more eccentric.

“Alex, my dear fellow. Introduce me to your lovely wife, and then take yourself off.”

Introductions made, Mr. Archer drew Giana’s gloved hand to his lips and vowed that he was charmed.

“My husband tells me you are from Virginia, sir,” Giana said, gently removing her hand from his. “Do you still own land in the South? Do you grow cotton, perhaps?”

Alex smiled and quietly moved away. Hamilton Archer would soon be busy pouring out every detail Giana would wish to know.

But Giana, after ensuring that Hamilton Archer had sated himself with viewing her bosom, excused herself, for she had caught sight of Derry, standing, unfortunately, with Jennifer. She accepted a glass of champagne from a passing servant and made her way across the carpeted salon to the massive marble fireplace.

Jennifer watched Giana walk gracefully toward them and muttered under her breath to Derry, “She’s finished flirting with Mr. Archer, I see. She doesn’t look at all well with that dark green velvet falling off her shoulders.”

“I don’t believe it is in danger of falling off, do you, Jennifer?”

Giana moderated her greeting and said only, “Good evening, Derry, Jennifer. Is not this a lovely home? The ceilings are so high they are shadowed.”

“I prefer Alex’s,” Jennifer said. “I always feel so comfortable there. Now, if you will excuse me, doubtless my stepmother would like to discuss business.”

“You will forgive Jennifer, I hope,” Derry said, watching Jennifer’s retreating back. “She has nourished these die-away airs for Alex, and persists in casting you as the Other Woman. And you are his wife.”

“We will both get over it, I trust, Derry.”

“I saw you speaking ever so long with Mr. Archer. Whatever did you have to talk about?”

“Cotton, Derry. He owns slaves, you know, but of course I did not argue the politics or the morality of the issue with him. That would have quite floored him, I fear.”

“New York will never be the same again, Giana.”

“Have you seen Mr. McCormick yet this evening, Derry?”

“He’s here tonight, of course, but I haven’t talked with him myself. I spoke to Charles about the project, though, to ask his advice.”

“And what did Charles say?”

“You will find out soon enough, my dear, when you dance with him.”

“I am delighted he will speak with me. It is a risk, admittedly. But, Derry, I have my heart set on it.”

The orchestra struck up another waltz as Derry answered, “I know. I believe your husband is about to ask you to dance, Giana, from the way he is looking at you. Never have I seen a man so besotted.”

“Alex, besotted?” Giana laughed. “Hardly that, Derry. He is just concerned that I will tire myself out.”