“Really? The way Ffalkes was braying on, even I would not have grasped what he was saying and not saying if I had not had, shall we say, prior information. The others, Engles included, did not realize it. A clerk, I assume, who works for Mr. Ffalkes gave you a preview?”
Giana pointed the dinner knife at him. “Obviously I will not tell you, Mr. Saxton, any of my sources of information. As for my mother, I was glad to see how well she looked this evening.” She looked as if she would have continued, but the waiter returned, bearing a tureen of turtle soup.
Giana stared down at the soup and felt her stomach knot in protest. She watched Alex eat heartily, a look of pure loathing on her face.
“If looks could kill, I most certainly would be dead meat by now,” he said, grinning at her as he spooned up the last bit.
“Let up stop this ridiculous fencing, Mr. Saxton. It is obvious that it is your intent to blackmail me and my mother. What is your price? Do you hope the Van Cleve shipyards and ships will be turned over without a sou to you?”
He appeared to study her, turning her words over in his mind. “Do not deny me the upper hand, Miss Van Cleve,” he said. “Allow me my fencing time with you. It is to your benefit, I assure you, for it lessens my anger at you. I have cursed myself so many times during the past four years, cursed myself for not examining you myself in front of all the other buyers, stripping you naked and thrusting my finger inside you. You can still blush. How very charming.” He suddenly sat forward in his chair and tapped the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully. “Indeed, I was a fool, for likely I would have discovered that you were anything but a virgin even then. At fifteen years old, Giana?”
“I was seventeen.”
“Ah yes, I remember now your telling me that. You know, the only fact I bothered discovering about you, the famous Aurora Van Cleve’s daughter, was that you were in an exclusive young ladies’ seminary in Switzerland until you were seventeen. Surely you can imagine my surprise when I first saw you, the little harlot who had bested me. Was it your habit to travel to Rome during your holidays for your amusement? Rich young ladies, I suppose, do get bored and crave excitement. Your, shall we say, solution was most unusual. Perhaps you fell in with an unusual lover in Rome, Giana. Was it that disgusting old man I saw eyeing you at the Flower Auction, the one who forced my hand by bidding that outrageous amount for your nonexistent maidenhead?”
Giana closed her eyes against his words. “You have insulted me enough, Mr. Saxton. Only one thing you have said is true. I did attend Madame Orlie’s seminary in Geneva.”
“Ah, and you were not in Rome playing the harlot that summer? Do you plan to deny that?”
“You must believe me, it was all a ghastly mistake. I am not, and never have been, what you think. What can I do to convince you that I am not a harlot?”
“There is something,” he said, “only one thing you can do.”
Giana’s eyes flew to his face, suddenly hopeful.
“What?”
“You can give me your virginity.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Saxton,” she said as calmly as she could. “Vent your anger. Relieve your spleen, if you must, though I should prefer that you choke on it.”
“You will cease your insults and your playacting, Giana, though in all honesty you are really quite good. Perhaps even now you could have convinced me, my dear, but you see, I remember.” His voice became hard with cold anger. “It took me some time, but I finally remembered seeing you at Madame Lucienne’s. You were standing in the shadows behind a marvelously nude statue and a potted fern. You were wearing a blond wig that time, and it was long before the Flower Auction. You see, I was drawn to you even then. I wondered if you visited the Flower Auction each time it was held to pick the likeliest stranger for your plucking. How well you read my attraction to you. You were even certain that I, unlike some of the other gentlemen there, would not demand to examine you for your valuable maidenhead. No, my dear, aghast expressions and trembling denials will not do. I looked for you, you see, you and that old bastard, but I gathered you realized I wasn’t a man to take such blatant robbery quietly, and went into hiding. It was wise of you, for it would have given me great pleasure to thrash you within an inch of your life. There is much you owe me, Giana, and you may be certain that I will be paid in full.”
“Two thousand dollars,” Giana whispered. “I will repay you. You must believe me, it was not what you think. It was all a mistake.”
Alex gave a crack of rude laughter. “You will certainly pay, Miss Van Cleve, but I have no interest in the money.”
“You will stop talking to me like this, Mr. Saxton. You are being cruel and I will have no more of it. I have promised to repay you.”
“As I told you, Miss Van Cleve, you will most certainly repay me. I am quite used to getting value for my money. And when an adversary breaks the rules, I react in kind. So save your mewling protests, my dear, you but anger me.”
Giana stared down at her mutton, then raised a pale face and said unexpectedly, “You struck me. I was struggling with you because I was terribly frightened, even though you refuse to believe me.”
He did not reply immediately, seemingly intent on savoring the salmon. “It was then I discovered you have very lovely breasts, Giana,” he said, his eyes falling to her heaving bosom. “If your accomplice hadn’t been so efficient, I would have found out for myself that I held no virgin in my arms, but as it was, I discovered only that you were wearing undergarments. Such a nuisance to caress a woman wearing so damned many layers of clothes. But you have become even more beautiful in the years we have been apart. You have the body of a woman now. I have never preferred girls, no matter how skilled they are.”
Giana lurched to her feet, clutching her reticule. “I want to go home now. I will not listen to you any longer.”
“Sit down and try at least to eat some of your dinner. You are too well known to attempt racing out of here without my escort. Besides, you would not have come unless you were curious about what it is I want. I have not yet told you.”
Giana eased back down into her chair, eyeing him.
“I have come to a decision,” he said presently, as if discussing a business matter. “You asked me if I intended to blackmail you and your mother. I consider it a waste of my time, in general, to play at business with a girl, but your performance this morning piqued my curiosity. I will not blackmail you in our business dealings—indeed, I would find no amusement in that. I will tell you what I will expect of you tomorrow afternoon when you visit Kew Gardens with me. Do not again dress the dowd, Giana.”
She knew what he wanted now. He was simply gloating, amusing himself with her.
“Mr. Saxton,” she said, “I was in Rome four years ago, it is true, but not by my own choice. I did nothing, I swear it, nothing save observe.”
A thick black brow rose. “Ah, a young lady learning about sex by sitting in a brothel? An interesting finish to a girl’s education.”
“I did not wish to be there, you must believe me, and stop this nonsense.”
“Giana,” he said quietly, “I have told you there is but one way you can prove yourself to me, and your unbelievable story.”
She forced herself to look him squarely in the eye. “I am a virgin, Mr. Saxton, no matter what you think.”
“Excellent,” he said, appearing to be much diverted. “I have not enjoyed a virgin in quite a long time. Indeed, I believe my last virgin was a charming young lass in Paris some two years ago. And she did not cost me two thousand dollars.”
“Damn you, I did nothing. I was forced to attend the Flower Auction, just as I was forced to be in Madame Lucienne’s brothel. I have told you that I will give you back your two thousand dollars. You may purchase as many virgins in London as you wish.”
“Oh no,” he said easily, his fingers lightly caressing her arm, “I fancy a more skilled partner. Virgins can be a deuced nuisance. They know nothing of how to please a man, much less themselves. You, I
know, will please me admirably.”
She jerked her arm away.
“Very well, Mr. Saxton,” she said. “You would not know the truth if it smashed you in your smug face. The Van Cleves are quite wealthy, sir, as I am certain you know. We are also possessed of some power. If you wish to spread it all about London that Georgiana Van Cleve is a harlot, I have decided that you should do so. In short, Mr. Saxton, you can go to hell. My reputation will survive. The wealthy and powerful always survive, but I am certain you know that from personal experience. Did you not survive the scandal caused by your wife’s supposed accident?”
His face paled and he stared at her a moment, calming himself, she supposed. She felt a moment of elation. Then he smiled, a cruel smile.
“No,” he said slowly, his eyes hard upon her face. “My wife, Laura, did not die accidentally.”
“Ah, so your poor wife chanced to displease you, Mr. Saxton? Did she see you for the ruthless man you are? Or perhaps hated you because you were unfaithful to her? How many brothels did you visit, how many mistresses did you keep while she was alive? I would imagine it is not terribly difficult to arrange a boating accident.”
“No,” he said again, a brief glimmer of pain shadowing his eyes, “it would not be difficult. But, my dear, that is all ancient history, and none of your business.”
He shook away the anger and pain the memory of his wife still brought him, and said in a carefully controlled voice, “Let me say that your bravado about not fearing any scandal I might raise is very affecting. I do not doubt that if things were different, my announcement would do you little harm. But there is something else to consider, is there not? It is all over London that your beautiful mother is being courted by the Duke of Graffton. You cannot tell me that such a blue-blooded peer of her majesty’s realm would stomach such scandal. Ah, I see that you at last understand. What would the dear duke say if he knew that his future wife and stepdaughter would never be received in his circle?” He smiled widely into her white face. “You know of course what I will demand. Make up your mind to it, my dear, for I will have you, and willingly, until I am tired of you. If you insult me further, I may even take you for my permanent mistress whenever I visit London.”
It was odd, Giana thought, with almost blank disinterest, how the devil had come to claim his own. She thought of the angry words she had hurled at her mother that very afternoon, and flinched. She realized that whatever she did, she could not tell Aurora. Aurora Van Cleve would tell Saxton to hie himself to Hell, regardless of what his story would do to them. And there was the merger. Would Saxton risk that as well?
She said in a surprisingly calm voice, “Is your little revenge so important to you that you would risk the merger?”
“Our dealings have nothing to do with the merger,” he said, still smiling. “Indeed, you know as well as I that the Van Cleves need this merger more than I do. If anything happens, Miss Van Cleve, it will be your doing, not mine.” He shrugged. “Do not repine. It is likely that I will but improve your skills, and you will not find me a selfish lover. Would you prefer a man like Raymond Ffalkes, paunchy and short, a man who likely sweats like a pig in heat?”
“I hate you,” she said in a weary voice. She looked down at the congealed mutton on her plate. “I am quite finished with my dinner, Mr. Saxton. I would like to leave now.”
He tossed his napkin on the table and obligingly rose.
He knows he’s won, Giana thought, damn him.
“I wish you luck in our merger negotiations, Miss Van Cleve,” Alexander Saxton said smoothly as their carriage stopped in Belgrave Square. “It is your business wits against mine. But about our other business, you have until Friday.” He shepherded her up the wide steps to the Van Cleve mansion. “Until tomorrow morning, then, my dear,” he said.
She turned to face him, and Alex gazed for a moment into her wide midnight-blue eyes. He quickly cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her. He suddenly released her, wincing at the pain in his shin.
“I know,” she said, wiping her hand across her mouth, “you will add that to my bill.”
He rubbed his kicked shin against his other calf. “You may be certain that I shall,” he said, and turned away from her, whistling as he strode back toward his carriage.
Chapter 12
“Gentlemen,” Alex said, rising from his chair, “you will excuse us now. Miss Van Cleve and I have made plans to visit Kew Gardens. My dear?”
Drew watched in astonishment as Giana docilely rose to stand beside him. “You will not then be accompanying me to the exhibition, Miss Van Cleve?” he asked.
“Perhaps next week, Drew,” she said, having, in all truth, forgotten about the exhibition. “Mr. Saxton is a visitor to our country, and I feel it my duty to show him about a bit.”
“I trust you will all have time to enjoy her company after I’ve left England,” Alex said.
As Drew watched Mr. Saxton escort Giana to the door, his hand lightly upon her back, he wondered if perhaps she was fascinated by his American bluntness. Odd to see her so pleasant to the man now when she had given him Dutch coin all morning.
Forty-five minutes later, Alex was handing Giana onto the cruise boat Billy that would ferry them up the Thames to Kew Gardens. He stared toward London Bridge for a moment, thankful for the occasional sunny day in the London summer, and turned to Giana.
“It has been quite an eventful day already, Giana. But don’t you think you pushed a bit hard this morning? You need capital and my ships, and your shipyards in Portsmouth have fallen markedly in production since you invested so heavily in the Midlands Railroad. It has also come to my attention that you are having difficulty obtaining the lumber for building, and that, too, is a problem solved once we agree to terms.”
“You are repeating yourself, Mr. Saxton,” Giana said.
“Am I? You distress me, Miss Van Cleve. I would like to charm you out of your bad mood, if you would know the truth. Actually, I have rarely felt so completely justified in my actions. If you would but be honest with yourself just once, you would cease insulting me and draw in your claws.”
“I am honest with myself, Mr. Saxton. It is you who refuse to believe the truth.” She looked up at him curiously. “Do I look like a harlot, sir?”
“Thank God, no. If you did, I likely wouldn’t want you.”
It occurred to Giana that her protestations of innocence but whetted his appetite. She sighed. She could not very well play the harlot now. It would only add to his amusement.
“I would that you simply think of our coming together as payment, long overdue. Why not just think about the pleasure we will share? I think I can make you forget, at least for a while, how much you wish to break my neck.”
He touched his hand gently to her shoulder, and she pulled away to the railing of the boat.
“You have no reason to fear me, Giana. It will not hurt.” He sighed, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Such a pity that I even now have to guess at the whiteness of your thighs and the beauty between them.”
“Stop it, damn you, stop it.”
“Ah, the virgin act again. Well, you may play at what you will for the next two days.”
Giana turned on her heel, her face white beneath her straw bonnet. She jostled her way through the tourists chattering all about her to the far stern of the boat, and stared down into the churning, dirty water of the Thames.
She felt his hand close over her arm. Why did he make her feel so very warm? She asked coldly, wanting to distract him, “Why do you wish to visit Kew Gardens?”
“I grow flowers, and some of the most exotic in the world are tended there.” He grinned down at her. “You find that so unusual, Miss Van Cleve? Actually, I have a particular affinity for the family Orchidaceae. The word is from the Greek orchis, which actually means ‘testicle.’ I see from your outraged expression that you did not know that. Well, in any case, you can relax in the knowledge that I will not try to make love to you all aftern
oon. Today, my dear, you are simply a delightful ornament for my arm. When you are with me, I know at least that you cannot plot dastardly schemes. I presume you are familiar with Kew Gardens so that I may count you as my guide?”
Giana was somewhat familiar with the famous gardens. At least she admired their lovely ponds with the graceful swans crisscrossing the water.
“That would be preferable, Mr. Saxton, to listening to your braying.”
Alex answered her with ready laughter. “It delights me that you do not affect die-away airs, Giana. Indeed, you are an amusing companion.”
Didn’t he know how to take offense?
He said, “I trust your skill in bed rivals your wit.”
Despite herself, the stark image of him as he had looked with Margot rose to her mind. Margot, writhing and crying out in mewling whispers, as he thrust his hard-muscled belly and hips against her. Margot enjoyed him—no act, that.
“What troubles you, sweetheart? You look lost in a dream. I can but hope that I am in it with you.”
“The only place I wish you to be, Mr. Saxton, is with the devil.”
But her cheeks flushed, telling him he had caught her in a lie. “As intimate as we will be, Giana, would you not begin to call me Alex? When you moan my name with pleasure, you’ll find ‘Mr. Saxton’ won’t do at all.”
“You will find out soon enough, Mr. Saxton, what names I think appropriate for you.”
As they strolled through the wide lanes that cut through the gardens, he held her hand tucked firmly in the crook of his arm. Giana discovered he was appallingly knowledgeable, spouting out Latin names as readily as he had French wines. He lost interest in her lessons when they reached the glassed hothouse where the orchids were tended. She stared when he struck up a long conversation with the gardener who cared for the delicate flowers, and spent nearly two hours reverently leaning over the blossoms, extolling their beauty more to himself than to anyone else present. They had to practically run to catch the last boat back to London.
Evening Star Page 18
