Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“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?