Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

Brent had determined before coming to the Butlers’ house for dinner that he would ignore Byrony. Above looking at her that one long moment, he’d succeeded, giving all his attention to Penelope Stevenson. He was amused by the girl’s antics, wondering what Maggie would think of the pretentious but quite lovely little twit. Ah, duchess, what irony there is in polite society. Here he was a gambler who kept a mistress, and was business partners and quite good friends with a madam. He was acceptable, but any lady would turn pale and faint were Maggie to be seated at her table, and all these so-called gentlemen would leer and make lewd jokes. He wondered what Byrony would think of Maggie, and nearly dropped his fork. Damn her anyway. And that ridiculous situation with the seating arrangements. She’d looked so helpless.

He wanted to hate Ira Butler.

He realized he’d been silent too long, but could come up with no more nonsense for Penelope’s pretty ears. He turned his attention to Chauncey Saxton. “May I say, ma’am, that you’ve taught your benighted husband quite a bit. I hear that he’s making better and bigger business deals every day.”

Chauncey laughed, sending her husband a wicked look. “It’s all too true, Mr. Hammond. He comes home looking as if he’s lost everything, I tell him that he indeed will, then inform him how to proceed so that he won’t lose his shirt.”

“Aha,” Delaney Saxton said. “What tall tale is she telling you now, Brent?”

“We were just speaking about shirts,” Brent said, grinning, “and how you’re keeping yours intact.” He added, “That is an English shirt he’s wearing tonight, isn’t it, ma’am?”

“Yes, Mr. Hammond, it is indeed. All things English last forever, I tell him.”

“Something the English and gamblers have in common, perhaps. We’re always around to take care of other people’s messes, and we never brag about it.”

Chauncey laughed. “And we only fade away in the end, sir?”

“Brent, ma’am. With the look your husband is giving me, I feel as though I’m fading quickly, very quickly, right now.”

“Ignore him, Chauncey,” her husband told her.

“Why?” she asked, giving him a droll look. “Is he outdoing you as I always am?”

“Women,” Delaney said, sitting back in his chair. “I swear that God sent all of you here to earth after he’d already tried famine and pestilence.”

“There were also the locusts, don’t forget, Del,” Brent said.

Byrony had been listening to them, unable to help herself. Why, she wondered, couldn’t he act like that with her? Funny and humorous and charming. She chewed slowly on a bite of pork.

“Your attention, everyone,” Delaney Saxton called out. “Come on, Tony, get your face out of your plate. A toast: to Byrony Butler, a charming addition to San Francisco.”

There was good-natured joking and laughter and everyone dutifully drank to Delaney Saxton’s toast. Byrony flushed and murmured thank-yous to everyone within hearing.

Naomi and Eileen served coffee and brandy in the drawing room. Brent Hammond was the first of the guests to take his leave. He lightly touched Byrony’s hand and murmured inanities. It was odd, Byrony realized after he’d left, but she felt she was at last breathing normally. She hadn’t realized what a strain his presence had been. She turned a bright smile to Penelope Stevenson.

“I don’t know why he had to leave so quickly,” Penelope said.

“Who?”

“Mr. Hammond. At least he’s taking me riding tomorrow.”

Byrony felt a dagger of jealousy tear through her. “How very nice,” she said.

“Father approves of him, so perhaps I’ll marry him.”

Just like that? Byrony wanted to box her shapely ears, but instead she smiled. Agatha had mentioned to her that Penelope had also determined to marry Del Saxton before Chauncey had arrived in San Francisco.

Penelope said, “He’ll have to give up his mistress and his gambling and all that. Do you know that he is partners with a whore?”

“Not a whore, Miss Stevenson, a madam,” Byron

y said.

Penelope shrugged an elegant shoulder. “I’ve seen her. She’s old, you know, close to thirty, so you’re probably right. No man would want her.”

“Ah, my dear, I must interrupt you for a moment.” Ira smiled down in understanding at his wife. “Excuse me, Miss Penelope, but Saint wants to see Michelle. Would you like to take him to the nursery, Byrony? No sense in waking the child.”

“Did you appreciate my timing, Byrony?” Saint asked her with a smile in his brown eyes.