Evening Star

by Catherine Coulter

  Aurora saw the almost imperceptible glint in Randall Bennett’s heavily lashed gray eyes. Such beguiling eyes they were until they flickered with greed.

  “Are you interested in fine wines, Mr. Bennett?”

  “My friends seem to trust my palate, Mrs. Van Cleve. But, of course, it is not simply the final product that I appreciate. I have a great interest in the science of the grape.”

  “You never before told me that, Randall,” Giana said. She felt inordinately pleased. “Randall shares so many of your interests, Mother.”

  “It would appear so, Giana.”

  “Dinner is served, madam,” Lanson said from the doorway.

  Randall rose quickly and looked from Georgiana to her mother. “How am I ever to make a decision with two such beautiful women?”

  “You have two arms, Mr. Bennett.”

  “A Solomon’s solution, ma’am,” he said and offered each lady an arm.

  Aurora smiled as Randall gracefully seated her in the tall-backed heavy mahogany chair at the head of the table. She saw his eyes widen at the richness of the room, its golden-papered walls covered with fine paintings, and was pleased. When his eyes fell to the table, her smile widened. Cook had been surprised to hear that Aurora wished to have dinner served in the large, formal dining room, for only three people. And the silver dinner service was fit for royalty. Open your eyes, Giana. He does not love you, you foolish child. He loves only what you can bring him.

  “Tell me, Mr. Bennett,” Aurora said with gracious interest over the first course of carrot soup, and turbot with shrimp sauce, “what are your interests?”

  Randall sent a loving smile toward Giana, then gave Aurora a boyish grin. “Even though my uncle is of the aristocracy, ma’am, and thus takes little interest in worldly affairs, I fear that I am cut from a different cloth. As I have told your daughter, I am very much a modern man, and wish to make my mark in the business world.”

  “What business were you embarked upon when you visited Geneva, Mr. Bennett?”

  “My visit was primarily a family matter. As Giana has probably told you, my half-sister, Patricia, attended Madame Orlie’s seminary. I wished to assure myself that Patricia was happy and content.”

  “Did you manage to ascertain if she was happy and content, Mr. Bennett?”

  Giana giggled. “I fear, Mama, that Randall had little time for Patricia once he met me.” At Aurora’s arched brow, Giana added, “Oh, it was all my fault, Mama. Once I got to know Randall, I fear that I was loath to share his company, even with his half-sister.”

  “And your friend Mr. Joseph Stanyon, what was he about whilst you were becoming acquainted with my daughter?”

  Giana’s mouth dropped open. She had never told her mother the name of Randall’s business friend. She had not liked the man, with his smug smile and thick lips, nor the oily way he had eyed her.

  “Ah, Mr. Stanyon and I no longer are associates, ma’am. I regret to say that his morals were not quite what a gentleman would approve.” He gave Aurora a deprecating smile. “At the moment, I am studying various business possibilities.”

  “Randall is interested in shipping, Mama. He has told me on several occasions that he wished he could have stowed away as a cabin boy.”

  “It is a very risky business, as I am certain you know, Mr. Bennett. The Van Cleve shipyards have been very fortunate.”

  “They have had the benefit of your excellent management, ma’am.”

  Aurora nodded. “I understand that your father, Mr. George Bennett, has been ill for quite some time now.”

  Giana cocked her head at her mother, pleased that she was showing such interest in Randall, but perplexed as to how she knew so much about him and his family. Randall had always sidestepped her questions about his father. She was distressed to see him lower his head a moment, as if in silent argument with himself. She wished she could tell him that nothing about his family mattered to her.

  Randall slowly raised his head, and Aurora was vexed beyond reason at the beautiful sadness in his eyes. He said slowly, “I have never wanted to upset Giana with the miserable truth about my father, ma’am, but since you insist upon knowing, I must tell you that his illness is the result of strong drink. My poor stepmother has had much to bear. It is only because of my uncle’s kindness that my half-sister, Patricia, is receiving her education in Switzerland.”

  “Oh, Randall, how terrible for you. We will speak of it no more.”

  Randall smiled. “Your dear mother has every right to know about my family, Giana, and of my father’s problems. You are her daughter, and I respect her for seeking to protect you from a gentleman who could possibly be after your fortune.”

  “Well,” Giana said, smiling now, “since we love each other, Randall, she will never have to worry herself with protecting me again.”

  “Allow a mother her concerns, my dear,” Aurora said. “If Mr. Bennett does not mind, surely you should not quibble.”

  Lanson served a lavish second course of stewed kidneys, roast saddle of lamb, boiled turkey, knuckle of ham, mashed and brown potatoes, stewed onions, rissoles, and macaroni. Giana’s eyes widened at the array of dishes, and she cast a questioning look toward her mother. She knew that her mother rarely partook of traditional heavy English fare, preferring instead the lighter, more delicate French cuisine. She was on the point of making a small jest about it when she chanced to see Randall’s eyes resting fondly upon each dish.

  That’s right, Giana. He is all English and inordinately impressed with this culinary display. He will likely run to fat before he is thirty-five. But by then he hopes to have a comfortable wife and a fortune at his disposal.

  “I was admiring your waistcoat, Mr. Bennett. The design is very elegant.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I designed it myself.”

  “I trust you paid your tailor, Mr. Dicks, an ample amount for his excellent skills.”

  Giana glanced at her mother warily, wondering at her odd conversation. “How do you know who his tailor is, Mama?”

  Aurora cursed silently at Giana’s untimely interruption, for the color had faded from Randall Bennett’s cheeks.

  She said lightly, “My business partner, Thomas Hardesty, enjoys Mr. Dicks’s fine services. I am used to seeing his artful craftsmanship.”

  The bite of roast saddle of lamb tasted like ashes in Randall’s mouth. Bitch, he wanted to shout at her. He knew now that he had underestimated her and that she had learned everything about him. She had but toyed with him earlier, forcing him to tell Giana that his father was a drunken sot. Ah, but he had handled that well, much to the dismay of the wily Mrs. Van Cleve. Now her thrusts were becoming direct, only slightly honeyed, barely enough that her daughter not yet understand. She had told him quite clearly that she knew him to be in debt and that Mr. Dicks was but one of the tradesmen to whom he owed money.

  “You see how much you have in common with Randall, Mama,” Giana said. “You even approve his attire.”

  “Of course, my dear child. More wine, Mr. Bennett? It is rather a heavy wine, but a fine vintage, I think you’ll find.

  “Where do you reside, Mr. Bennett?” Aurora asked, allowing no uncomfortable pauses.

  “On Delmain Street.”

  Aurora parted her lips in an incredulous smile.

  “I know it is not an elegant address, Mrs. Van Cleve, but I am alone—at least for the moment,” he said with a caressing look toward Giana, “and have no need to squander money on myself.”

  “Randall is concerned for the future,” Giana said.

  “That certainly appears to be true,” Aurora said easily. “He has, after all, spent a great deal of energy and time preparing himself.”

  Giana looked at her mother uncertainly, but Aurora merely smiled at her and motioned for Lanson to bring the dessert.

  “I love cabinet pudding,” Giana said.

  “And I prefer the blancmange and cream myself. I trust one of the two please you, Mr. Bennett?”

  “I
ndeed, ma’am,” he said. He was thinking that his only hope lay in convincing Giana to elope with him. He remembered her trembling when he kissed her. She was of a very different cut from her elegant, cold bitch of a mother.

  They drank their coffee in the drawing room. Giana, fluttering between her mother and Randall with offers of sugar and cream, begged Randall to talk of his travels in Europe. This he did with great circumspection until the hour of ten.

  “It has been a great pleasure spending this time in your charming company, Mrs. Van Cleve,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

  “It has been most enlightening, Mr. Bennett,” Aurora said, “for both my daughter and myself.”

  Aurora waited in stiff silence while Giana escorted Randall Bennett from the mansion.

  “Well, Mother?” Giana asked the moment she entered the drawing room.

  “Mr. Bennett,” Aurora said, choosing her words carefully, “is a talented man. When his words are taken at face value, he is very charming.”

  “I saw no other way to take his conversation, Mama. He is always charming.”

  “Giana, my love, come sit beside me for a little while.” After her daughter had obliged her, Aurora lightly clasped Giana’s hand in hers.

  “You appear to know a great deal about Randall, Mother.”

  “Of course. Would you not expect me, as your mother and someone who cares very much about you, to look into what kind of man he is?”

  “He has not had a particularly happy life, I know,” Giana said. “To have to endure such a father.”

  “I suppose that would be somewhat daunting,” Aurora agreed, thankful that Giana had very little memory of her own cold father. “There are things you should know, my love,” she said after a moment.

  Giana looked guarded, but Aurora forged ahead. “His uncle, Viscount Gilroy, refused to have anything more to do with his nephew some five years ago. It appears that Mr. Bennett lost a good deal of money gambling and stole money from his uncle to cover his debt.”

  “That cannot be true.”

  “I fear that it is, Giana, and there is more. Mr. Bennett is sunk in debt. His only hope of saving himself is to wed a girl with money. I believe that when his half-sister, Patricia, wrote to him about you, he saw his opportunity. Do you really believe that a gentleman, Giana, would meet a girl clandestinely, without the knowledge or approval of her mother?”

  “But he met me quite by accident. It was I who fell in love with him first. Indeed, he was concerned that what we were doing was not proper. As to his being in debt, I imagine that he spends a great deal of his money on his poor father.”

  “No, he does not. He hasn’t seen his father in over a year.”

  Giana rose unsteadily to her feet. “It appears, Mother, that you have no faith at all in my judgment. Did Mr. Hardesty dig up all these vile accusations?”

  “Thomas certainly did as I asked.” She gentled her voice. “My love, there is no doubt that Mr. Bennett is indeed a fortune hunter. He is the kind of man who must perforce be charming, for it is his stock-in-trade.”

  “So you are telling me that the man I love doesn’t love me, only the Van Cleve money. Is it hard for you to imagine that I can attract a man who could possibly care for me?”

  “I’m sorry, Giana, but what I’ve said about Mr. Bennett is true. There are many other men you will meet, men who are honorable and honest.”

  “Do you think me so ill-favored, Mama, that Randall could not care for me?”

  “Of course not. I did not say that.”

  “I think, Mother, that you have said enough.” Her voice rose coldly. “You wanted Randall here only to insult him and make thinly veiled threats. It was not well done of you, Mother. I see now that every word you uttered was meant to wound him. You must have believed me a simpleton not to see through it.”

  “I have never thought you a simpleton, Giana. For the moment, you are merely blinded by your infatuation and do not see him as clearly as do I.”

  “Even though I am but seventeen years old, Mother, I am not blind. Perhaps it is you who do not wish to see the truth.”

  “Giana, please,” Aurora said, raising her hand.

  “I am going to bed, Mother. Good night.” Giana swept from the drawing room without a backward glance, her shoulders drawn stiffly back, her chin held high.

  “Damn,” Aurora said under her breath. Blind child.

  She realized with a sense of dread that she must now move very carefully, else Giana would bolt and she would lose her daughter. But what was she to do now? Lock Giana in her room? Perhaps, she thought finally, there was a way, though not through Giana, to be sure. She could likely show Giana a signed confession and it would not sway her. But Randall Bennett was a man who knew his interests. She must convince him that they did not lie with the Van Cleves.

  Chapter 3

  “The Chartists are sniffing about the shipyards, Aurora. They got wind of the new hauling machine we are installing.”

  “I know, Thomas. What really worries me is the support they’re receiving from the less savory elements in society.” Aurora rose suddenly from her chair and splayed her hands on the desktop. “I cannot understand why men wish to destroy what will, in the long term, make their lives easier. Thank God we do not own any mills. Did you hear that Morris Clipton, one of the Chartists in Yorkshire, led a machine-smashing foray into Robert Holmes’s cotton mill?”

  “Yes. I have heard the damage estimates at well over ten thousand pounds.”

  Aurora sighed, and touched an ink-stained fingertip to her temple. “Poor Robert was screeching like a wounded pig. Not that I care for him or his methods much, mind you, Thomas, but the fact of the matter is—was—that the new looms would have meant that children would have been spared twelve hours of work a day.”

  “Ah, Aurora, you are misunderstanding, on purpose, I think. Many of the Chartists don’t want their children freed by machines to be educated. In many instances, the money the children earn helps to feed the family.”

  “Enough, Thomas. I know it is a complicated question, and one that we will not easily resolve. But one thing I do know: machines are here to stay. There is little we can do about men who abuse their workers, but the Van Cleve shipyards will not install machines only to boot the workers out to starve. When the new machinery is in place, I want every man displaced to be assigned another job.”

  “You are being quite a humanitarian, Aurora,” Thomas said.

  “It is simply good business, Thomas. We have several contracts that can’t afford to be held up because our workers are malcontented.”

  “I will travel to Portsmouth to the shipyard and see to it personally.”

  “You can leave tomorrow, Thomas.”

  Drew Mortesson, Aurora’s secretary, stepped quietly into the massive office. He knew that Mrs. Van Cleve’s morning hadn’t been altogether pleasant, what with the Chartists making threats at shipyard owners, and her spoiled little twit of a daughter but adding to her problems. He smiled at the thought of Randall Bennett kicking up his heels in Drew’s outer office. With Mrs. Van Cleve’s mood, the man’s arrogance would soon be dashed. Drew waited patiently for Aurora to recognize his presence. She did quickly, smiling. “Ah, Drew, you have come to rescue me.”

  “I think not, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Bennett is here, I take it?”

  Drew nodded. “I have kept him waiting fifteen minutes.”

  Thomas Hardesty grinned. “A fine ploy, Aurora. He is likely gnawing at his fingernails by now. Let us just hope that you can send the blackguard about his business without much further ado.”

  Her eyes flashed at the thought of the impending interview, and Thomas smiled, wishing he could be present. Randall Bennett was a fool to tangle with Aurora Van Cleve, and likely he would discover that fact just as many other men had over the years, much to their surprise and chagrin.

  “If you will excuse me now, Thomas. Drew, do show Mr. Bennett in, poor fellow. How vexatious that he has had to wai
t.”

  Aurora was seated in her high-backed leather chair when Drew ushered Randall Bennett into her office.

  She nodded pleasantly. “Do come in, Mr. Bennett. I am terribly sorry that I have kept you waiting, but there was rather urgent business that required my attention.”

  Randall bowed solemnly. “I quite understand the demands of business, Mrs. Van Cleve, and someday, soon perhaps, hope to help lift its heavy burden from your fragile shoulders.”

  He has the bravado of a man who knows he has but to click his fingers, and all will fall into his lap, Aurora thought. He has spoken again to Giana, seduced her again with his damned charm.

  “What a kind and noble thought, Mr. Bennett,” she said, her fury hidden. She rose slowly and walked around the huge oak desk. “No, stay seated, Mr. Bennett. You thought, perhaps, that I invited you here today to show you the domain that you hope will one day be yours.”

  He smiled at her winsomely, but said nothing.

  “Actually, Mr. Bennett, I asked you here to clarify what I believe to be a misunderstanding on your part. Look about you, sir, for this is the last time you will ever again be allowed into my office or onto Van Cleve property.”

  “I hope that that will not be the case, Mrs. Van Cleve,” Randall said smoothly. He flicked a spot of lint from his black sleeve.

  “You are very sure of yourself, Mr. Bennett. Unfortunately, your certainty derives, I imagine, from my daughter’s rapt vows of eternal love and devotion to you.”

  “You have no other heirs, ma’am,” Randall said quietly. “Giana will marry me, despite anything you have said or will say to the contrary. Come, Mrs. Van Cleve, you have taken me in unworthy dislike. Can you not understand a young man who happens just once, when he is very young, to do something foolish? You must believe that I love your daughter and will do everything in my power to make her the happiest of women.”

  “I have rewritten my will, Mr. Bennett.”

  He raised a thick blond brow.

  “If you manage to marry my daughter without my permission, you will not see a sou until Giana is thirty years old. Think about it, Mr. Bennett. You are already halfway down the River Tick, your creditors hounding your steps even now. Do you honestly believe that they will be content to wait for thirteen more years?”