Giana got a brief glimpse of hairy brown legs before Alex, laughing, gave an arm to both Leah and Giana and pulled them from Delaney’s room.
“California is a continent away, Delaney, and there won’t be a railroad all the way to San Francisco for years yet.”
Delaney sipped his coffee, casting Giana a droll look over the rim. “Now he will try to convince me to go into business with him.”
After the hectic Christmas Day, Giana felt lazy and sleepy. It was near midnight, and Leah, dizzy with excitement, had not gone to bed until very late. The three of them, finally left to themselves, sat in decadent ease in the drawing room, facing the beautifully decorated Christmas tree.
“Four years is a long time between visits,” Alex pursued. “You left a miserable pauper, and look what has become of you.”
“I was lucky,” Delaney said simply. “Very lucky.” He said after a long moment, as if he were speaking more to himself than to his brother, “Odd that I always hated Father’s shipyard, all the infernal sawdust that filled up my nose. I even refused to take a steamer to San Francisco.” He sent a twisted smile to Alex. “I have bought into a shipping line, Alex. The jade lamb came from China, from one of my ships. That and my incursion into politics keep me on the straight and narrow.”
“Good god,” Alex said, grinning. “Delaney wanted to rebel,” he said to Giana, “but he needed the lure of adventure to get him off his butt.”
“It would appear,” Giana said, “that you did the right thing. Gold. It has a magic ring.” She glanced down at the bracelet around her wrist, a gawdy piece Delaney had explained in his droll way. “The only artisans in California,” he had said, “are men who failed to make their fortunes in gold.”
Giana dispensed more coffee, then sat back, wishing she could loosen the waist on her gown. “I had forgotten,” Delaney said, stirring a cube of sugar into his coffee, “what it is to live among such throngs of people. Do you know that seven years ago there were fewer than fifty people living in San Francisco? Today, with the call of gold, it has swelled to more than fifty thousand. It’s still a godawful heap of saloons, tents, and raw-wood houses, but there’s an irrepressible vitality to it.”
“You sound as if you intend to remain in California brother.”
“Indeed I do.”
“Oh.” Giana suddenly jumped, her eyes on Alex.
“He did it again?”
“Yes, it was a vicious kick.” She jumped again. “I don’t think he likes this tight waistline.”
“No,” Delaney said, “he is simply his father’s son and wants you to know very early, Giana, that it is he who will rule the roost.”
“Well,” Alex said, stretching. “I am ruling the roost until he arrives. It’s time for you to be in bed, Giana.” He held out his hand to her.
“But if I go to bed, Christmas will be over and it will be tomorrow.”
And there won’t be another, will there?
“I would invite Delaney into bed with us—more conversation, you know—but even he, a rough-and tumble Californian, might lose his agile tongue in his blushes.”
“Alexander Nicholas Saxton.”
“Just like our grandfather,” Delaney said. “He’ll say and do just as he pleases. He hasn’t a sensitive bone in his great body, Giana. You can spare my blushes, Alex, I’m off to bed myself.”
Alex found himself watching Giana as she undressed in their bedroom, listening with only half an ear to her chatter. The brief glimpse of her legs heightened his interest, and it was with some chagrin when he leaned over to kiss her that he discovered she was fast asleep. “Be damned,” he said, “I don’t believe it.”
He lightly touched his hand to her belly, and felt a slight movement beneath his splayed fingers. Why, he wondered as he settled himself down for sleep, could nothing ever be easy?
Chapter 23
Giana left Delaney and Derry listening to loud strains of a polka in the vast German Winter Garden, an elegant and elaborately facaded Bowery beer hall.
“I will see you home, Giana,” Delaney said, reaching for his cloak. She stayed him with a smile, seeing that Derry was glancing wistfully toward the dance floor. “Oh no you don’t, Delaney. Derry would surely slay me were I to take her partner.”
She walked out onto the bustling street and breathed in the cold January air, thankful to escape the pounding rhythm of the music. There was a smell of snow in the air, but there looked to be time yet before the swirling clouds gathering overhead blanketed the city in white. She remembered the balloon panorama was on exhibition at Barnum’s Museum and waved down a hansom cab bound for Broadway.
She left the cab at the corner of Ann Street, paid her entrance money, and spent a delightful hour exploring the museum. Odd, she thought, laughing at herself, how she was fascinated by things mechanical. She stopped at Raffer’s cigar store on Fulton to buy Alex a dozen of his favorite Havanas, and dawdled in Brady’s daguerreotype gallery, admiring his clear pictures, and bothering the distracted clerk with questions about Mr. Brady’s new process. It came as a surprise to her that it was nearly dark when she finally emerged again onto Broadway. She cast a lingering eye toward the D. & W. H. Lee furniture warerooms, but supposed that Alex, immured in his library at home for the afternoon, would worry if she dallied longer. She looked about for a hansom cab, and not seeing one, pulled her thick cloak more tightly around her and walked with a firm step up Broadway. She stopped briefly at the Astor House, with its wide, tree-fronted sidewalk and imposing stone steps, and had passed Barclay Street when she drew to a surprised halt at the sound of shouting voices. She knew she should continue on her way, but in her curiosity, she turned the corner onto Vesey Street.
She found herself in a scene of pandemonium. A mob of roughly dressed men armed with sticks milled in front of a three-story manufacturing warehouse. She heard them shouting obscenities against its owner, a Mr. Biddle, and threats against his business. She heard a mixture of languages, and a burly man brushed by her, nearly knocking her down. Stern-faced men, some of them drunk, jostled and pressed about her, paying no attention to the pregnant wo
man pushing her way through their ranks.