Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“But I have decided I would prefer a daughter, Mrs. Carruthers.”

“Ah, yes, you are two strong people,” Mrs. Carruthers said, bending her head to her needles once again. “You are lucky to have found Mr. Saxton. He is a good man, a fair man.”

“I didn’t find him, Mrs. Carruthers. He found me.”

“But a family man. His family will always come first, I believe, particularly now that he has married you, Mrs. Saxton.”

A family man, Giana thought. All the gentlemen in Rome had been family men. She was surprised at herself, surprised at the old cynical wariness that was flooding over her. The faces of the girls at Madame Lucienne’s, so worldly wise with understanding of those men and their endless lust for them, rose starkly in her mind. Alex had not made love with her for four nights now. Was he already bored with her, and her passion for him? “Ah, my little Helen,” the laughing Elvira had told her once, “a pregnant wife makes us all so happy. Her belly is soon filled with his child, and mine with him.”

She lurched to her feet, startling Mrs. Carruthers.

“Are you feeling unwell, Mrs. Saxton?”

“No, stay here, Anna. I am feeling a bit tired, that’s all. When Mr. Saxton wishes to leave, please tell him I have taken a hansom cab home.”

She had not been in her bedroom for more than fifteen minutes before Alex burst into the room.

“What the devil do you mean leaving? Without a word to me?”

Giana gazed down at her clothes strewn on the carpet at her feet, and tightened the sash of her dressing gown. She shrugged. “I did not want you to interrupt your time with Leah,” she said. “The child was enjoying herself immensely.”

He strode toward her and clasped her shoulders in his hands. “You are my first concern, Giana. I want to know why you blithely left Mrs. Carruthers and hailed a hansom cab.”

“I am not a helpless child, Alex. I am perfectly capable of seeing myself home.”

“That’s not the point,” he said. “It was rude of you, and inconsiderate. Mrs. Carruthers thought you were upset about something. What is it?”

/> Giana felt tears sting her eyes. She tugged furiously at the sash of her dressing gown, striving for calm.

“Well?”

“Mrs. Carruthers is knitting clothes for the baby,” she whispered, her eyes fastened on her toes.

“I know,” Alex said, nothing more, merely waited.

“And she was singing your praises,” she said, still not looking at him.

“You disagree?”

Giana heard a spark of amusement in his tone, and whipped her head up at him.

“I will not be like those other women, Alex, sitting about like a lump with nothing to do but sew baby clothes, nothing on my mind but what will please my husband.”

“Do you forget so quickly that you are pregnant, Giana?”

“No. How could I? Damn you, Alex, you’re just like those precious husbands in Rome. You don’t want me anymore.”

“Don’t want you?” he repeated, his eyes narrowing in surprise on her face.

“I’m no longer a challenge. I am predictable and you are tired of me. And I am getting fat.”

Giana stepped back when Alex strode to her and clasped her dressing gown. He pulled it from her shoulders and ripped open her chemise. She stood still as he stroked the column of her throat and caressed her breasts. She was thinking of the feel of his mouth closing over her breast, when his voice brought her back to earth. “And are you tired of me, Giana? Does it now bore you when I caress you? After all, you now know well what I will do.”

“Men are different,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, whimsically now, his palms lightly caressing her.

“You haven’t touched me in four days.”