Evening Star, Page 2

  Aurora ignored the insult, and kept her voice calm. “It is all new to you, Giana, as it was to me twelve years ago after your father’s death.” Never tell her that Morton would have carved out my heart if he had guessed that his fortune would fall into my hands. “You are my heir, Giana, my only child.”

  “It is a pity that John died, for then you would not bother worrying me with all this, would you?”

  Stay calm, Aurora. “Perhaps, Giana, but your brother did die. The Van Cleve business interests are now in my hands, and if you will agree to learn, someday it will be you who is in control.” Aurora saw an excited glint in her daughter’s dark blue eyes. My eyes looking back at me. Perhaps, she thought, she had finally gained Giana’s attention and interest. “You are intelligent, Giana, I have known that since you were a child. You are really much like me, you know.”

  “If you believed me so intelligent, so much like you, Mama, why did you send me away?”

  Aurora drew a steadying breath, unable for the moment to meet Giana’s eyes. She rose slowly, her palms flat against her desktop. “There were two reasons, Giana,” she said finally. “I wanted you to have everything that I did not have growing up. I wanted you to know the security that only wealth can bring.” She lowered her eyes a moment. “And I wanted you to have the education that would prepare you to . . .” She ground to an abrupt halt. The truth, Aurora, you are not telling her the truth.

  “To what, Mama? To become a spinster who enjoys lording it over men and giving them orders? Your orders for me, Mama, were followed to the letter. I am quite proficient at mathematics, for example, just as you insisted. And I suppose I am intelligent, though that commodity is little valued. I won’t be like you, Mama, and I have no intention of being alone. I will not be an oddity.”

  “An oddity, Giana? Is it your wish then to be like every other petted lady in England? Do you want to deny that you have a mind and be a frivolous, empty-headed girl who will do nothing more with her life than become an equally frivolous, empty-headed woman?”

  “Is it so odd, Mama, to want a husband and a family, to spend one’s life loved and protected and cherished? Just because you weren’t lucky enough to gain that, you would deny me?”

  “Giana, I was possibly mistaken in sending you to Switzerland. Perhaps I should have kept you here with me, to learn with me, to see how life can be when you have some say in how you live it. If you would but try to understand. There was so much for me to learn, so many decisions, so many people depending on me.” Aurora saw Giana’s eyes resting with cold condemnation on her face. “Listen to me, Giana. Can you forgive me? I had too little time for you then.”

  “And now you fancy that you do. It is not a matter of forgiving you, Mama. I am a grown woman now, and I have no wish for your precious plans for my future. I will decide my own future.” Giana sensed that she had gone too far, and splayed her hands in front of her in an attitude of compromise. “Mama, the past is past. I will try to understand you, if you will but understand me.” She smiled, suddenly radiant and self-satisfied. “Mama, I am in love.”

  Aurora stared at her. “You are seventeen years old.”

  “You married Papa when you were seventeen.”

  No, I was sold to Morton when I was seventeen.

  “You have just returned from Switzerland. You have been home for but a fortnight.”

  Giana’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I met him in Switzerland. He was traveling with a friend on business. His younger sister, Patricia, was my roommate after Derry left, and I got to know him quite well. I love him, Mama, and he loves me.”

  “Love? By God, Giana, you have no more concept of what love is than a moth flying toward a tantalizing flame.” She saw Giana’s face pale with anger and was appalled at her own stupidity. “Who is he, Giana?”

  “Yes, he is tantalizing,” Giana said, raising her chin. “His name is Randall Bennett, and he is as respectable as any mother could wish. His father is the second son of Viscount Gilroy. You should approve him, for he is interested in business, just as you are.”

  “Is he in London?”

  “Oh yes. In fact, I saw—” Giana stopped cold at the awful slip she had made. She hurried on before her mother could interrupt her. “Randall wants to meet you, Mama. It is I who have not allowed it, so you must not blame him. He wants your first meeting with him to be perfect. He has heard of you and thinks very highly of you. And I have told him all about you. I want to marry him, Mama, as soon as summer comes. I want to wed him in June.”

  Aurora was thankful she had learned over the years how to keep her thoughts from showing on her face. She was at first taken aback at the sudden show of naive pride in her daughter’s voice, and then she felt sudden consuming fury. Was she to lose her only child without ever having had the chance to know her? “He sounds like a paragon. Since the young man wants my meeting with him to be perfect, why do you not invite him to dine with us tomorrow night?”

  Giana looked at her warily. Although she did not know her mother well, it did not seem quite right that she should suddenly become so reasonable. She gave in to a rush of excitement, glorying in what seemed to be a victory.

  “I will see—write him an invitation, Mama. May I be excused now?”

  “Of course, child.” Giana fairly danced from the room, without a trace of her sullen, defiant anger.

  Aurora looked up at a light knock on the library door. “Come in,” she called.

  “Mr. Hardesty is here, madam.”

  Aurora nodded to Lanson, smiling a bit at Lanson, who was so very battered-looking with his nose off to one side, the result of his last boxing match six years before. He made an unlikely-looking butler, but Aurora, as a woman living alone, was thankful for the talents he had learned in his former profession.

  “Show him in, if you please, Lanson.”

  Thomas Hardesty stood a moment in the doorway, watching Aurora rise from her desk. Even in the harsh daylight, she looked exquisite, no telltale shadows or lines on her face, no gray streaking her ink-black hair.

  “Your message sounded urgent, my dear. I had feared you were perhaps ill.” He smiled. “But seeing you as radiant as ever blasts that notion.” Indeed, he thought, she had hardly changed in the twelve years he had worked as her partner. Such a pity that a woman as beautiful as she had no intention of ever marrying again—not even him, who admired her beauty almost as much as her vast fortune. He remembered how shocked he had been when she first told him she fully intended to take her husband’s place. But he had quickly enough come to rely on her judgment and to admire her quickness of mind and her ability to discern the most subtle of problems. He walked forward to take her outstretched hand.

  “Radiant? Hardly. But no, I am not at all ill, Thomas. I thank you for coming so quickly.” Aurora turned away from him for a moment, and then said in a strained voice, “It is Giana. The foolish child fancies herself in love.”

  “You should rather say young lady, Aurora. I would imagine that Giana is the image of you when you were her age.”

  “And you doubt that I was ever a child.”

  Thomas’s first memories of her were as the silent young wife of Morton Van Cleve, the exquisite gem he saw only on occasion. The image reminded him of the endless stream of mistresses that Morton took without a care to discretion. He had flaunted them like a string of second-rate nags before a thoroughbred.

  “Now, Aurora,” he said, grinning, “would I ever be guilty of such rudeness? No, you needn’t answer that. Now, who is this gentleman Giana wishes to wed?”

  “All I know is that he has the lineage of a gentleman. His name is Randall Bennett and his grandfather is Viscount Gilroy. I assume that he must be attractive, from Giana’s besotted descriptions.”

  “And you want to know more?”

  For the first time, Aurora smiled. “You read my thoughts too well, Thomas. Yes, I must know all about him. Giana is inviting him to dine with us tomorrow evening. When I meet him, I would like to know
more about him than just his name and the fact that he has met my daughter clandestinely both in Switzerland and here in London.”

  Thomas whistled softly. “Giana is very young,” he said, “and very innocent.”

  “And very foolish and romantic.”

  “Not unlike other young ladies of her age and background. Do not fret about it, my dear. We will see. Will you come to your office tomorrow?”

  Aurora nodded. “Certainly. Thank you, Thomas.”

  “Don’t worry, Aurora. I will find out the name of the nurse who diapered our young gentleman. Incidentally, have you had an opportunity to review the option papers on the railroad stocks?”

  “I have tried, but to be honest about it, I haven’t been able to concentrate on them. Drew will be back shortly. I’m sure he’ll be able to force my nose to the grindstone.”

  “At least Giana hasn’t fallen in love with your secretary.”

  “She thinks Drew is imperfect because he wears glasses and does not spend hours on his waistcoats.” She added bitterly, unable to help herself, “And of course he is less than a man because he takes orders from a woman.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic, Aurora, and cease your fretting. Giana is not the first seventeen-year-old girl to be infatuated. Now, I must be off if I am to discover all the skeletons in Randall Bennett’s closet.”

  “I pray that it is a very large closet.”

  Giana paced restlessly up and down the well-trod footpath at the south end of Hyde Park. She had sent Randall an urgent appeal to meet her, and he was late.

  “You will wear holes in your slippers with all that pacing,” Randall Bennett said softly.

  Giana jumped. “Oh, Randall, you startled me.” She turned swiftly, her heart thumping, her face flushed and excited. “I was worried you would not come.”

  “My foolish little love,” he said, raising her gloved hand to his lips. He felt a slight trembling in her hand as he held it overlong, and smiled.

  “Whatever is the matter, my love? Your message was a mystery.”

  “My mother wants to meet you, Randall, tomorrow evening.”

  A worried frown creased his wide forehead as he released her hand. His smile became charmingly rueful, his voice uncertain. “You’re certain that it is her wish, Giana? She is not angry?”

  Giana’s excitement dimmed a moment. “No,” she said finally, “I do not believe she is angry. But she is disappointed.” At his faint questioning look, she added, almost apologetically, “You see, she intended that I would, well, follow in her path, learn all about the Van Cleve interests, and work with her.”

  Randall threw back his handsome blond head and laughed heartily. “What an insane thought. My God, my little Giana doing a man’s work.”

  “That is what I told her,” Giana said in ready agreement, but for an instant she felt a surge of rebellion. She wasn’t stupid, after all. She smiled, knowing that Randall hadn’t meant to insult her. “I looked at her desk. So many documents, so many contracts and options. She has talked of little else in the fortnight I’ve been home.”

  Randall said, “You and your mother are nothing alike, Giana. I grant that she has accomplished more than many men in her position, but to do so, she has sacrificed all her woman’s gentleness. What man would want to cherish her, protect her, as I do you?”

  To his momentary chagrin, Georgiana laughed. “You have never met my mother, Randall.”

  He managed to say lightly enough, “Indeed, my love. But still, she did place business above a home and family. You are different from her, beloved. Where she wishes to conquer, you wish to love, to share, to be a wife and a mother. And I value you for it. Value you above all women.”

  He saw that her lovely eyes were glistening with pleasure at his description of her, as he thought they would. “Has your mother agreed to our marriage?”

  “Not precisely, but I told her that I want to marry you in June. You will convince her tomorrow evening that you will make her a perfect son-in-law.”

  Randall gave her a merry smile, an easy movement of muscles, and devastatingly attractive. He had never before kissed the beautiful girl standing so worshipfully before him. He deemed it time.

  “Giana,” he said on a groan, and lightly brushed his lips to hers. He felt her start in surprise, and then felt a flutter of response. He moved quickly away from her, preening inwardly at the dull light of disappointment in her eyes. If the mighty Aurora Van Cleve proved difficult, or immune to his beguiling charm, he had no doubt that Georgiana would agree to elope with him.

  “You will make me the perfect wife, my love. I must go now, I do not want any untoward gossip reaching your mother’s ears.”

  “Yes, Randall,” she said, her heart still hammering from the feel of a man’s mouth on hers. She stood watching him stride confidently down the path away from her. She felt a warm glow of pride at his tall, athletic frame, and the memory of his warm gray eyes resting upon her. Giana’s step was light when she rejoined her maid, Daisy.

  “Such a handsome gentleman, Miss Giana. And so polite and gallant.”

  “Yes,” Giana said, delighted to find such slavish agreement so readily at hand. “He is all that is perfect, is he not?”

  “Oh, yes, miss,” Daisy said fervently, though she wondered if it was improper for the handsome gentleman to be meeting her young mistress without her mother’s knowledge. Still, the gentleman’s intentions were clearly honorable and the light in her mistress’s eyes was a joy to see.

  Aurora rose to stand beside Giana when Lanson appeared to announce Randall Bennett. As he strode into the room, Aurora saw his eyes flicker toward the elegant furnishings and rest for a long, hungry moment at the two Rembrandts that hung beside the fireplace. He was everything she expected of him. He was a handsome, sophisticated man nearing thirty who exuded confidence and wore a rueful, boyish expression on his face designed to melt a woman’s heart. She felt her daughter tense. Tread carefully, Aurora. There is as much to lose as there is to gain.

  “Mr. Bennett,” she said pleasantly as she stepped forward, her hand extended. “I am delighted to finally meet you.”

  Randall took her hand in a less firm grip than he had intended, but he was so startled that for a moment he could but stare. He had expected a stern-faced woman, likely a strident dowd, not this exquisite creature, as slender as a girl, gowned in the most feminine of confections. His eyes fell to her white shoulders that rose invitingly from the froth of white lace at her bosom, and lingered a moment on the delicately wrought diamond-and-ruby necklace that encircled her throat.

  “I had wondered where Giana got all her beauty,” he said at last. “Now my question is answered, Mrs. Van Cleve. You are strikingly alike.”

  “I trust we are more alike than you imagine, Mr. Bennett.”

  Randall smiled uncomfortably, for although her voice was perfectly pleasant, he sensed inflexibility in her.

  “I am so glad you have come, Randall,” Giana said, relief in her voice at the warm greeting her mother had bestowed. “Would you care for a glass of sherry? Dinner is not served until eight o’clock and we have time to enjoy ourselves and become acquainted.”

  “Your tongue is running on railroad tracks, Giana,” Randall said in a chiding, affectionate tone one would use with a charming child. “I would much enjoy a glass of sherry.”

  Giana blushed and smiled shyly as she flitted to the sideboard, her petticoats rustling in her haste.

  Dear God, he is more dangerous than I thought. “Do sit down, Mr. Bennett.”

  Randall waited for Aurora to select a chair, and eased himself gracefully down opposite her. He held himself tall, his muscled chest shown to good advantage under his white brocade waistcoat.

  “I understand from Georgiana that your grandfather was Viscount Gilroy. If I recall aright, the Randalls hail from Yorkshire. Your uncle, James Delmain Bennett, is the current viscount, is he not?”

  Randall had expected her to know of his noble antecedents, for she t
oo came of the aristocracy, and he replied readily, “That’s right, ma’am. My uncle’s home estate is called Gilcrest Manor. I spent much of my time there when I was a boy. It is a grand old house, but so very drafty.”

  “I do so look forward to meeting your Uncle James, Randall,” Giana said brightly as she handed her mother and then Randall a glass of sherry. “You have not told me much about him. And Gilcrest Manor is quite a romantic name. I would like to visit all of your family.”

  Randall started only slightly. He said, “My uncle, unfortunately, has become somewhat of a recluse over the years.”

  “How odd,” Aurora said. “I met your uncle about three years ago when I was visiting friends in Thirsk. He seemed a most convivial gentleman who much enjoyed the waltz. And his three sons were very pleasant and well-mannered.”

  It was a lie, of course, but Aurora saw she had hit the mark. Thank you, Thomas, she said silently, for your information.

  “How marvelous,” Giana said. “You have three cousins. Are there any girls?”

  “Yes,” Randall said, “there is one girl. She is the youngest, but fourteen years old now, I believe. Rather lumpy, though, poor girl, takes after her mother. Not at all like you, Giana, or your gracious mother.”

  It was a compliment, but one at the expense of another. Giana looked at Randall uncertainly, then smiled. He was nervous, and rightly so, and anxious to please her mother. She said quietly, “I was very skinny when I was fourteen, which is just as bad as lumpy, I think. Everyone changes, Randall.”

  “Of course, Giana. Mrs. Van Cleve, the sherry is excellent. Your late husband must have stocked a fine cellar.”

  “Not really, Mr. Bennett. It is I who have seen to the quality of the wines and sherries. The sherry you are drinking is, of course, from Spain, near Pamplona, the Valdez vineyards. I am also a partner in the Blanchard vineyards in Bordeaux, and am thus able to secure the finest.”

  Two vineyards, in Spain and in France. Was there any end to the Van Cleve holdings?