Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

“Please, Tony, call me Chauncey.”

He lifted a well-formed eyebrow. “Del won’t mind?”

“Whatever does he have to say with my name?”

“He is now your husband. I imagine he will have a lot to say about many things.”

“Well,” she said pertly, rising from her chair and smoothing the full skirts of her white satin gown, “so will I! And I think I can outtalk him most of the time.”

“Is she tossing down the gauntlet, Tony?” Delaney said, smiling at his wife.

Tony saw the softness in his f

riend’s gaze and winced. “I’ll be going now,” he said somewhat stiffly, disregarding Del’s jesting question. “Will you be traveling out of the city for a wedding trip?”

“We haven’t decided anything specific yet,” Delaney said. “Doubtless my fast-talking wife will inform me soon what she wants to do.”

“All I want to do,” Chauncey said on an artless yawn, “is go to bed.”

Both men whipped about to stare at her. “Ah, my dear,” Delaney said finally, a wide grin revealing straight white teeth, “you must learn to keep your more interesting wishes to yourself. Or at least whisper them to me very softly.”

“Oh!” Her face flushed a bright red. “I didn’t mean . . . that is . . . you’re terrible, Delaney Saxton! Tony, come, I’ll show you out! We will leave this wretched tease to himself.”

Tony paused at the front door after accepting his top hat from Lucas. “I do wish you the very best, Chauncey,” he said, smiling down at her. “Del is a fine man. You will be happy with him, I am certain.” He looked as if he would say more, and Chauncey held her breath for a moment, praying he would not.

“Thank you, Tony. You must come over to dinner soon. Lin makes the most delicious concoctions.” She laughed lightly, hoping to break the tension she felt emanating from him. “I have learned never to ask her the ingredients.”

“Yes, I should be delighted,” he said, and turned quickly on his heel.

“He’ll survive, madam. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Chauncey turned at Lucas’ shortly spoken words. “Yes, I know.” She smiled ruefully. “If Tony were in a more equally populated city, I fancy his feelings would never have been engaged.”

“As to that, I couldn’t say. Ah, here is Mr. Saxton.”

She felt his hands on her shoulders, gently kneading the taut muscles. “Better?” he murmured, leaning to lightly kiss her temple. He slowly turned her to face him. “How do your ribs feel?”

“Just a bit sore,” Chauncey said, her voice sounding dry and crackly. Get a hold on yourself, you fool! She laughed, a completely artificial sound that didn’t fool Delaney for an instant. “Monsieur Daneau was quite voluble about my not wearing a corset.”

“Yes,” Delaney said gently, “you told me about it already. You really don’t have anything for a corset to contain. The man’s an idiot.”

“Fashion,” she said, tilting her chin upward. “If it weren’t for you blasted men, I daresay we wouldn’t be so confined, cramped, and otherwise encumbered.”

He smiled at her, understanding her nervousness and wishing he could lessen it somehow. Chauncey, in the short time he had known her, always resorted to argument when she was uncertain of herself. “I agree completely,” he said. “Shall I go fire Monsieur Daneau’s very fancy store?”

She moistened her lips with her tongue until she became aware that Delaney had grown very still, watching her. “My lips are dry,” she said sharply. Was that what coquettes did to attract men?

He cocked a mobile eyebrow. “It’s the champagne,” he said blandly. “It’s dark,” he added, as if to himself.

“Where is Mary?” Chauncey, for the first time in her short life, turned a cold shoulder to the beautiful star-studded sky.

“She, Lucas, and Lin are in the kitchen enjoying themselves. I’ll be your lady’s maid. Come, wife.”

Wife!

She stood as still as a statue. In a single lithe motion, Delaney scooped her into his arms. I feel like I’m carrying a soft board, he thought vaguely, smiling toward the top of the stairs. When he reached his bedroom—their bedroom now—he gently lowered her to the floor, turned, and firmly closed the door.

He watched her a moment, standing stiffly in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around herself as if in protection.