Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“What about the whip?”

“My constant companion,” she said. “I’m sorry about your father, Brent.”

“So am I. I don’t know why he didn’t write to me himself before he died. I would have come back.”

“I suspect it probably had something to do with pride.”

He twisted around to look at her. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”

“I bought a whip, didn’t I?”

The next evening, the Hammonds, dressed formally, arrived at the Saxtons’ home for dinner. Horace and Agatha Newton were there, as well as Saint Morris and Tony Dawson.

“How lovely you look, Byrony,” said Chauncey, giving her a brief hug. “Del is delighted you came. He told me he’s forgotten how a normal woman is supposed to look. I think he wants to add me to his shipping line.”

“You look noble, Chauncey,” Brent said, “a clipper, perhaps, under a sail of blue silk.”

“Tony’s my dinner partner?” Saint said to Del as they strolled into the dining room.

“Sorry, old man. Bear up. Tony here can be quite amusing when the muse strikes him.”

“Chauncey isn’t due for another month. I wonder you invited me at all.”

“She’s so big, I’d forgotten,” Del said. “Excuse me, Saint, but you can’t compete with this vision.” Del turned to Byrony, who was seated at his right. “The gold silk becomes you, my dear. As for this village idiot,” he continued at Brent, “I’m delighted he isn’t dead. I heard about your fight.”

“Just a mild difference of opinion,” Brent said easily. “Actually, it wouldn’t have mattered if that other fellow ever had the same opinion. In fact, I don’t even remember any opinions being exchanged.”

“Nothing like a good fight to reaffirm your manhood,” Byrony said to Chauncey and Agatha.

Agatha sent a fond look toward her husband. “The days aren’t too far past when Horace got drunk to the gills and raised a little hell.”

“Poor Saint,” said Byrony. “I don’t know how you manage to keep your male image intact. You’re too large for anyone to want to fight you.”

“The good missionaries used to tell me that God always balanced the scales. A huge fellow like myself is gentle as a lamb. It’s only the scrawny little ones, like Brent, who are constantly trying to prove themselves.”

“Missionaries?” Brent said, quirking a dark brow. “Where the devil did you find that sort?”

“On a little island called Maui. It’s part of the Hawaiian Islands in the Pacific. I was a doctor on a whaler. When I first traveled to the main town on Maui, Lahaina, I decided to stay for a while. It’s a constant battle between the missionaries and the sailors.”

“I say, Saint,” Tony said, “I didn’t know about that. A great story for the Alta, I think. What do you say? All the gory details?”

“Later, my boy, later. There are ladies present.”

Byrony turned to say something to Chauncey, but she seemed lost in thought.

It was Agatha who drew Chauncey’s attention. “My dear, what is to be the name of this prince or princess?”

“How about Beauregard Saxton?” Tony said.

“Or Percival?” said Brent. “After the fellow who was supposed to be my bartender but didn’t show up. We mustn’t forget he’ll be half English.”

“Actually,” Chauncey said, “we can’t agree on a name. Del is digging in his heels and simply won’t be reasonable.”

Saint said, “What is this? What name do you want, Del?”

Delaney shook his head, and calmly continued eating his baked chicken.

“This is ginger, isn’t it?” Brent asked. At Delaney’s nodding grin, he added, “Amazing. Never a predictable moment in this house.” He said to his wife, “I think I’m beginning to like it when things aren’t just as one expects them to be.”