Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“Alex told me no banker would touch my proposal. Are you doing this for Derry?”

“Perhaps in part. Your husband, I’m sure, will not much like this arrangement. But I am a businessman, and if you are willing to take the risk, the loan is a sound one.”

“Well, princess,” Alex greeted her some minutes later, “I see your eyes are sparkling like sapphires. Have you made so many new conquests tonight?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, not quite meeting his gaze. “It has been a very rewarding evening.”

She smiled toward Charles Lattimer, who was dancing with Derry.

“Do not treat Lattimer as a conquest, Giana.”

“Why don’t you like Charles Lattimer, Alex?” she asked curiously.

“It’s enough for you to know we both prefer to keep a goodly distance between us.”

“My dear Mrs. Saxton.”

She turned to see the comforting figure of Mr. McCormick, standing, as was his habit, on the balls of his feet, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, weaving slightly as he gazed at her.

“Perhaps you would like to speak to Mr. McCormick alone, Giana,” he said. “I will see you later.”

How smug of you, Alex, Giana thought. I will not renege on my agreement. She bent a dazzling smile on her future partner and assured him she would have the money by the end of the week.

“Very good, my dear,” Mr. McCormick said. “Now, no more business tonight. I have come to claim you for the next dance. Even an old codger like myself likes to be seen occasionally with his lovely business partner on his arm.”

Only Herbert, his rheumy eyes heavy with sleep, was waiting to greet them when they arrived home. “Take Mrs. Saxton upstairs for me, Herbert,” Alex said to him. “I have a little work to do and will be up soon.” He squeezed her hand and strode away from her to his library. “And, Herbert,” he called over his shoulder, “take yourself to bed as well. And don’t, as I keep telling you, wait up for us anymore.”

Alex let himself quietly into their bedroom a half-hour later. To his slack-jawed surprise, Giana was slouched in a deep wing chair beside the fireplace, sound asleep. She was still dressed in her petticoats and undergarments, one slipper lying under her hand in her lap. Her black lashes were like soot against her white cheeks, thick and lush. It angered him that he hadn’t followed her up and tucked her in himself. Why hadn’t she asked him to leave sooner?

He walked quietly to her and started to lift her into his arms.

“Dammit, Giana.”

Giana jerked awake to see Alex’s furious face above her. He was shaking her. “Alex?” she said, her voice fuzzy with sleep.

“You promised me, Giana.”

“Promised you what?”

“The corset.” He pulled her roughly to her feet, twisted her around, and began jerking at the laces. He pushed and prodded until at last he pulled off the offending corset, and threw it angrily into the fire. “You bloody little fool.”

“Stop shaking me, dammit. I had to wear it.”

He released her but she saw that his eyes were still angry.

The final webs of sleep cleared from her mind and she repeated calmly, “Really, Alex, I had to wear it.”

“Why? Why the hell would you do that to my child?”

She sighed, rubbing her arms. “My gown wouldn’t fasten without it.”

“Then why didn’t you wear another damned gown, for God’s sake?”

“Must you continue to be foul-mouthed and yell at me?” She was fast losing her patience. “For your information, Mr. Saxton, it was the only gown I could fit into, and only with my last corset.” She looked toward her smoking corset in the fireplace.

“Why didn’t you buy another gown?”

She raised her chin. “I haven’t had the time.”