Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“Why, Alex,” Giana said, “if you have married me for my money, and Derry finds herself in the same straits, don’t you think it fair that Derry and I decide between us what we must do?”

“Father,” Jennifer said, “would never do such a thing.”

“I know, Jennifer,” Derry said, smiling toward her tight-lipped husband. “He is an honorable man, albeit a very stubborn one.”

“Just as Alex is,” Giana added.

Charles Lattimer turned glittering eyes to Alex. “I know what I know. Laura Nielson would have married me, had it not been for her father.”

“I trust, Charles,” Derry said quickly, seeing Alex’s hands fisted at his sides, “that you cherished no violent emotions toward Laura when you married me. I would hate to believe that I was your second choice.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Charles barked at her.

“Didn’t my father want you for a son-in-law?”

“Dammit,” Alex said. “That is enough. Lattimer, would you care to leave these prying ladies to their gossip?”

“Indeed,” Charles said, rising quickly.

“Please don’t get too drunk, Alex,” Giana called to Alex’s retreating back.

Derry and Giana looked at each other for a long moment, and burst into laughter.

“How dare you laugh at my father,” Jennifer said.

“Oh, Jennifer,” Derry said, wiping her eyes, “I am laughing because I am happy.”

“As for you,” Jennifer said, turning on Giana, “the only reason Alex married you was that he got you pregnant.”

“Perhaps,” Giana said easily. “Alex is terribly persuasive.”

“Jennifer,” Derry said firmly, “I am tired of your snitty remarks. Either you mind your manners and your mouth, or you will find yourself without anyone to speak to but the servants. Alex and Giana are married and there’s an end to it. Now, get your cloak. We are going home, where, I believe, I shall celebrate with a brandy.”

“Alex, you stink.”

“Brandy,” he said, pulling off his clothes. He walked unsteadily to the bed and stood for a long moment staring down at Giana. She tried to keep her eyes on his face, but inevitably they fell down his body.

“You are an interfering wife,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “Will you forgive me?”

“You apologize? That’s unheard of.”

“Will you forgive me?”

“You’re naked,” he said, frowning down at her.

Giana patted the bed.

“I should beat the hell out of you,” he said, almost as an afterthought. He eased down beside her on his back, pillowing his spinning head on his arms.

“I hope you can wait until the baby is born.” She was quiet a few moments, watching him look up at the shadowy ceiling. “Are you going to tell me what happened with Charles Lattimer, Alex?”

He didn’t look at her, and said in a tired voice, “You mean to ask if we are now fast friends? No, Giana, not that, but perhaps we have reached some understanding. I never before much cared if he thought me a scoundrel.” Before Giana could speak, he continued, “You announced your pregnancy to the biggest and the most spiteful mouth in New York.”

“As you told me, Alex,” she said, “the baby is a fact. If you do not care that people will talk, why should I?”

“You almost announced that you will behave more properly from now on.”