Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“Yes,” she said, “now I do, regularly.”

“That’s true,” Alex said.

“Are you drinking enough milk?” Elvan said, rather desperately.

“I don’t care for milk.”

“I pile her toast with butter, Elvan.”

“Do you, er, have much soreness in your upper body, Mrs. Saxton?”

“He means,” Alex said, “do your breasts hurt?”

“I understood exactly what he meant, Alex,” Giana snapped. “Yes, Dr. Davidson, a bit.”

“You can be certain that I am very careful,” Alex said.

Elvan ducked his head and laid an uncomfortable hand over her belly. “The child is certainly growing,” he said, as if surprised.

“As I keep telling my wife, Elvan, I am a large man. But you’ve already told her that, have you not?”

“Yes, I have. I don’t think there are twins, Mrs. Saxton.”

“Twins.” Giana turned white.

“A pity,” Alex said. “An American baby and an English baby. That would be quite a tenable solution. Yes, a pity.”

Elvan quickly pulled down her nightgown and rose. “You are looking much healthier, Mrs. Saxton, and resting as you should. A first baby is always the most difficult and you must ensure that you are as fit as possible.”

“Yes, of course,” Giana said.

“I will continue to keep her off her feet,” Alex said.

Chapter 21

“Mr. Saxton is graceful for such a large man,” Mrs. Carruthers remarked to Giana as they watched father and daughter glide across the ice on Miller’s Pond.

“I should like to be with them,” Giana said. She turned to the governess. “Alex told me he would tie me to a tree if I even looked at a pair of ice skates.”

“Mr. Saxton is just being protective of you. He takes good care of you.”

“And he likes to have his own way.”

“Leah is a happy child,” Mrs. Carruthers said after a moment. “And I think you are an excellent mother to her, Mrs. Saxton, despite your own youth.”

“You are too kind, Anna.”

“How I look forward to the birth of your child. Babies are such a comfort, and bring new life into a home.”

Giana nodded, her eyes on the small jacket Mrs. Carruthers was knitting. For her baby, for Alex’s baby.

“I don’t know how to knit,” she said.

“It is not at all difficult,” Mrs. Carruthers said, looking up from the small sleeve, her clacking needles silent for a moment. “But you are far too busy with more important matters, Mrs. Saxton, to be concerned with this.”

“Not really,” Giana said. Since she had agreed to spend no more than a couple of hours each morning at the office, there was certainly time in her placid day to learn to knit—or sew altar cloths, if she wished. It struck her forcibly that she was listening to Mrs. Carruthers drone on about how excellent a husband and father Alex was, as if all revolved around him, just as all had revolved around the husbands in Rome. She stared at the small jacket. “It’s blue,” she said at last.

Mrs. Carruthers nodded, her expression placid. “You will have a son, of that I have no doubt. Mr. Saxton, although he says nothing of it, wants a son, and he, I believe, is a man who contrives to get his own way.”