Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)
“Not usually,” she said a bit stiffly, miffled at his lack of tact. “It is just that I was wondering who that man is standing . . . over there.” She pointed distractedly toward a portly gentleman laughing immoderately with a woman wearing a rather pointedly garish red gown.
“No you weren’t, not really,” Delaney said. “In any case, the gentleman is John Parrot, one of San Francisco’s esteemed financiers. Whom were you really looking at?”
“You are most forward,” Chauncey observed, frowning up at him.
“No, actually, I’m the mildest of souls. Ah, the waltz is drawing to a close. But look, Miss Jameson, there is a flock of hungry birds—roosters, more aptly, gazing toward you. I will protect you for another dance.”
Before Chauncey could say a word, he had swung her again into the next waltz. She started to protest, but her gaze was held by a short, rather stocky young man who stood in the doorway of the ballroom. Was that Delaney Saxton? He looked the part, at least from this distance. He appeared utterly arrogant and conceited, as if he were the royal prince surveying his kingdom.
She landed on her partner’s foot.
“Oh dear, I am truly sorry,” she gasped. “I promise you I am not usually so clumsy.”
“I suppose it is allowable, since you are an eccentric.”
Chauncey was startled into laughter. “Eccentric! Only very old, very wealthy people are allowed to be eccentric, sir. All others are simply crazy.”
“It is what I have been told, Miss Jameson. Why else would you come to San Francisco?”
She fell awkwardly silent, and his eyes narrowed on her still face. “A world traveler, then,” he said easily, disliking her sudden discomfort even though he didn’t understand it.
“Perhaps,” she said finally.
“If you would but tell me whom you are looking for, you would likely spare my body further pain. You just missed another step.”
“Oh, very well,” she said. “If you must know, I am wishful of meeting my banker this evening.”
“Your banker?” he asked carefully, his eyes going briefly toward Dan Brewer.
“Yes, his name is . . . Delaney Saxton. Mr. Brewer told me he would be present this evening. After all, he is supposed to marry Miss Stevenson. Surely he would not miss her ball.”
Delaney was startled into silence. How could a man Miss Jameson had never met before cause her such distraction? There would be time enough to tell her that it was he who was her banker. But not yet. He wanted to enjoy himself a bit longer. “Marry Penelope Stevenson?” he drawled. “Delaney Saxton? It is a strong possibility, I suppose. Tell me, did Dan Brewer give you all this information?”
Chauncey flushed just a bit. This man made her say things before her mind cleared them for utterance. “Well, not really. You see, Mrs. Stevenson and Miss Penelope came to visit me last week. It was they who told me of Mr. Saxton’s . . . intentions.”
“Hmm,” said Delaney. “Why are you so anxious to meet this fellow? He’s not at all prepossessing, you know. Terrible dancer, quite inarticulate, a buffoon in fact. Always laughs at stupid jests. Really, Miss Jameson, I beg you to forget the man. He’s an utter bore, I promise you.”
“Not an ounce of wit, then?”
“Less than an ounce.”
“You are in fact not a friend of Mr. Saxton’s, then?”
“Did I say that? Ah, such a pity the dance is over. I fear I must return you to your other admirers, ma’am. I wish you luck in fending off their attentions. But you really needn’t worry. They all hold ladies in almost reverent awe.”
“
You don’t appear to,” she said sharply.
“But then, I’m something of a bore,” said Delaney, smiling widely down at her.
She was striving to think of a retort when Dan Brewer bore down upon them. “You might at least tell me your name, sir,” she said, goaded, “before,” she added, “you take yourself off.”
“Perhaps later, Miss Jameson. Good evening, Dan. Did you come to provide protection for our newest lady?”
Dan Brewer smiled shyly at her. “Yes indeed. I’m glad you two have finally met. Miss Jameson, would you kindly honor me with this dance?”
“Met?” Chauncey exploded. “I have no idea who he is!”