“Well, I will keep you with me until he comes, so that you won’t. Your waistline still doesn’t tell a tale, Giana.”
“Thank God for that. Let’s have lunch together tomorrow, Derry. For dessert, I promise you some ice cream. Strawberry. I can’t seem to get my fill of it lately. Alex is forever complaining.”
“Better than pickled onions. Lunch tomorrow, Giana. Here comes Mrs. Vanderbilt with Jennifer. She looks the world like a ocean liner ready to be launched.”
Giana giggled, then turned to smile up at Alex.
“My dear?”
She placed her hand on Alex’s arm and let him lead her to the dance floor. When she felt his arm around her waist, his fingers lightly caressing her back, she could only stare up at him, wondering how she could respond so easily to his slightest touch.
It was as if he guessed her thought, for he smiled intimately down at her and said, “Don’t take me here, please, Giana. The ladies would doubtless be in a snit to see you bear me away to a back room.”
“Would they, now, sir,” she said, but her voice was breathless.
“You are the most beautiful Englishwoman here tonight.”
“The only one, Alex.”
“Oh? I do believe you are right.” He pulled her closer and whirled her about the large ballroom. She laughed aloud when he pivoted gracefully away from another couple, carrying her in a wide circle. When the waltz ended and he released her, she looked up at him, disappointment clear in her eyes. “Cannot we dance again?”
He shook his head. “Were I to keep you with me, love, I should expect a challenge from any number of hopeful gentlemen. Husbands aren’t supposed to be so attentive to their wives. We would be thought to be in love, and that would never do, would it?”
Her eyes flew to his face, but his expression was impassive. “No,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “that wouldn’t do.”
It was later in the evening that Charles Lattimer approached her. “How lovely you look this evening, Mrs. Saxton,” he said. “The more I see you, the more I have to agree with Derry. You have indeed grown into a lovely woman, although I was charmed by the shy young girl in Geneva.”
“And that was a long time ago,” Giana said. “You are too kind, sir. It is your wife who looks lovely tonight. I am a blackamoor and she has the look of an angel.”
A fair eyebrow arched upward. “An angel who was so unhappy in her heaven that she fled earthward.”
“Come, Charles, would you be content with but a harp to strum?”
He shook his head, smiling down at her. “Your logic is terrifying, Giana. But you know,” he continued thoughtfully, “I haven’t seen her so excited in years. Even my daughter at her sharpest doesn’t seem to faze her lately. You know, of course, that all our friends believe that we’ve both lost our heads.”
Giana tossed her head. “It is what you and Derry think that is important, sir. The others, well, they can go to the devil.”
“Perhaps, but it does take some getting used to. For instance, I must remember now to ask Derry if she is free before inviting her to lunch.”
“Tomorrow is out, sir, I’m afraid.”
Charles grinned down at her engagingly. “Do you mind mixing a bit of business with dancing?”
“Not at all, just so long as I can still mind my steps.”
“Derry has told me about your proposed partnership with Mr. McCormick. She mentioned that you need in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars and your husband refused to lend you the money.”
“That is true, Charles.”
“That is hardly a household allowance, Mrs. Saxton, but I think I could be interested, if you put up for collateral twice that amount, say, of your twenty-five-percent ownership in Van Cleve/Saxton.”
“That is asking a lot, Charles.”
He whirled her about before replying, “True, but the collateral must balance the risk of the investment, which, in this instance, is substantial.”
“I should like to think about it, Charles. Could you draw up the papers and send them by tomorrow?”
“Certainly.”