Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

“Del? Hasn’t he been up to see you, girl? He didn’t deliver all these beautiful flowers from your admirers?” He waved toward the half-dozen bouquets placed about the room.

“No,” she said. “Mary brought them all up yesterday.”

“Well, there’s a new batch downstairs. Doubtless Del will get around to bringing them up. He’s a busy man. You rest, girl. Take the laudanum only if you really need it. Don’t want you to become dependent on it.”

“Why do they call you Saint?”

He grinned at her and wagged a meaty finger. “Another time, girl. It’s an uplifting tale, and not one to be told lightly.”

Alone, Chauncey glared at the bedroom door. So the cad was here in the house and hadn’t deigned to come and see her! Oaf! Conceited, aloof swine! She suddenly pictured herself executing a series of daring accidents and Delaney Saxton shaking his head at her in exasperation. She started laughing.

When Delaney opened the door, it was to see his houseguest holding her sides and giggling. He raised a mobile brow at her. “I was only thinking the jest, Chauncey. Can you read my mind?”

She wiped her eyes. “I have tried, but there is naught there but a vast wasteland.”

“You don’t see any audacity lurking about in the wasteland? Ah, forgive me, ma’am, Penelope. Do come in. I’m sure Miss Jameson has been pining for feminine company.”

Chauncey sucked in her breath, and said blandly, her eyes on Penelope, “Indeed, Mr. Saxton. After your . . . continuous attentions, it is a pleasant change.”

“Miss Jameson,” Penelope said in a high, shrill voice. “How very . . . pulled you look.”

Delaney prepared himself to be amused, and moved well away to stand by the window, his hands thrust in the pockets of his trousers.

“Do I?” Chauncey said blandly. “It is doubtless all the late nights, Miss Stevenson.”

Mrs. Stevenson sailed to the bed like the Eastern Light under full sail. She proffered a tight smile. “On the contrary, love,” she said toward her daughter, “I believe Miss Jameson well enough to go back to her hotel. How do you feel, Miss Jameson?”

“Pulled, ma’am, but only on the inside.”

“Won’t you ladies be seated?” Delaney asked. But not too close, he thought as he arranged the chairs. He didn’t want them to leave scorched around the edges.

“Everyone is talking about your accident,” Penelope said, arranging her lovely yellow taffeta skirts around her. “Tony Dawson, the silly man, has been haunting the house, Del tells me.”

Chauncey gave Delaney a drawing look, but he merely smiled, saying nothing.

“How nice,” Chauncey said, “to have friends.”

“Agatha Newton wanted to come with us,” Mrs. Stevenson said, “but I told her it would probably overtire you to have too much company.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I hear that dreadful man Saint Morris is tending you,” Penelope said.

“My dear Penelope,” Delaney said, his voice sounding to Chauncey’s ears like a soft caress, “Dr. Morris is one of the few competent medical men we have in San Francisco. I do not understand your dislike of him.”

“He is . . . not refined,” Penelope said, tossing her head.

“Ah, that certainly puts him in his place.” More than likely, Saint’s only flaw was not paying sufficient masculine attention to Penelope.

Penelope blinked, uncertain how to take his words, but Delaney, knowing full well that Chauncey’s eyes were glued on him, lightly caressed Penelope’s hands. He straightened very slowly, wondering why he had done such a thing. He didn’t love Penelope, now had no intention of marrying her, yet here he was behaving like an utter cad, leading her to believe herself important to him. He realized in that endless moment that she was even less important to him than just the day before. His eyes met Chauncey’s. Such expressive eyes; if only he knew her well enough to read her thoughts in them. What would she say, he wondered, if he were to tell her that he probably wanted her more than she did him?

“Lin,” he said, sheer gratitude in his voice, “the tea tray! I think, ladies, that Miss Jameson is a bit worn out. Why don’t we have tea downstairs and let her rest??

?

The triumphant look Penelope shot her made Chauncey want to grind her teeth. Polite departing words were exchanged and Chauncey was left alone with her tangled thoughts.

Lin returned shortly with tea and crisp almond cakes for Chauncey. “Do you like your tea plain, missy?”