Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“I imagined as much.”

“The father is Ira. I don’t think you imagined that.”

Saint sucked in his breath. “Good God,” he said softly. “So that’s why—”

“Yes, that’s why. It took me long enough to get the entire story out of Byrony, but there it is. She wanted to leave him, swore she wouldn’t say a word, but of course neither Ira nor Irene believed her. Now the question is: what to do?”

Saint uncrossed his legs, stretched them out in front of him, and crossed his ankles. “An interesting problem,” he said.

Brent drew a deep breath. “She still insists that she wants to leave.”

“That doesn’t seem like such a good idea to me,” Saint said, his lashes nearly closing, making him look sleepy.

“No, it doesn’t. Indeed, it’s out of the question. The girl has no more idea of how to survive than a puppy.”

“And she has no money, does she? Of course, it’s conceivable that she is pregnant—now.” Saint grinned at his choice of words.

Brent stared at him blankly. He hadn’t thought. “Shit,” he said.

“There is that,” Saint agreed. “And she’s legally married. Quite a problem, I’d say.”

“The marriage wasn’t consummated. It can be annulled.”

“Hmmm,” Saint said. “I think, my boy, that we’d best go see Del Saxton. Among the three of us brilliant specimens, we ought to come up with a reasonable solution.”

Del, when presented with the facts, turned to Saint.

“The fact of the matter is, Del, that the marriage needs to be annulled. Byrony needs to be freed.”

“Why?” Del asked.

“So Brent can marry her, of course,” Saint said.

Brent leapt up from his chair across from Del’s desk. “Marry her. Jesus, Saint, I never—”

“Oh, I take it then that she, the deceitful, cunning woman, seduced you, Brent?”

“No. I don’t want to get married.” Even as he shouted the words, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d wanted her for so long, and it wasn’t just lust. She stirred emotions and feelings in him that scared him to death.

“Too late. It appears to me that you understand procreation well enough. You want your child born a bastard?”

“Who said she’d get pregnant? It was just once, Saint.”

“Calm down, Brent,” Del said. “Saint, stop poking him. The man’s a wreck already. Now, listen, both of you. I have a friend, a very powerful friend, in Sacramento. The marriage can be annulled there. There’s going to be a scandal, of course, no way around it. What bothers me is that Byrony will be the one to suffer the gossip—a wife deserting her husband and child. Unless—”

“Unless,” Brent said, “we force Ira to admit that the child is Irene’s.” He turned to Saint. “I see no reason for the incest to come out, if Butler agrees to the annulment. Do you think anyone would draw that conclusion?”

“Unlikely. Weren’t you shocked, disbelieving at first?” Saint asked.

“So,” Del said, leaning back in his chair, “there will be a scandal all right, but the two of them won’t get what they really deserve.”

“Of course,” Saint said, “Byrony could simply leave San Francisco, and the scandal wouldn’t touch her. She wouldn’t be here.”

“No.”

“Well, Brent, you don’t want to marry her, you just said so. Of course, even if she isn’t pregnant now, how could she ever marry? Women are funny about that, you know. They’re raised to believe they should be virgins when they marry. I suppose she could say she’s a widow—”

Brent writhed in guilt. But it was more than feeling like a rutting bastard for taking her virginity. Oh no, he’d fine and fairly caught himself. He rose from his chair. “She’s not leaving,” he said, his decision made.