Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“Such a man would be a rare find.”

She nodded, sadly.

“Then what Giana needs, and quickly, is a strong dose of life, and from a vantage point that would leave no doubts in her mind. I would imagine that ladies in Rome are not at all different from your English ladies. And men, well, they are universally the same, are they not?”

At her nod, he said, “Well, then, I shall proceed.”

He did, at great length, much to Aurora’s astonishment.

“It all sounds so fantastic, so—”

“Immoral?”

“No, not really that. Risky. Giana is so very young. Such an experience as you paint would catapult her into a world that I myself have never seen, only guessed at.”

He smiled, and gently mocked her. “Do you wish to be a pupil also, cara?”

“I must think, Daniele,” she said, disregarding his words. “Were I to allow you to let her meet such people, surely I would be a most unnatural mother.”

“Now it is your own morality that eats at you, your concern at how you would view yourself. It would appear, Aurora, that you have little choice. You are wise enough, I think, to know what is best for your daughter, and how to deal with yourself and your own feelings.”

“I can scarce envision such a burden.”

“You will think about it, cara. Yes, you will think about it.”

Aurora arose earlier the next morning than was her usual habit. When she emerged from her bedchamber, she saw Giana’s maid, Daisy, clutching an envelope to her breast. Another assignation with Randall Bennett, of that she was certain. That, or Giana was prepared to elope with him. It was the sight of that envelope that decided her. She was on the point of marching into Giana’s bedchamber, when she drew up, shaking her head. No, this would be a formal agreement between them; it would be conducted in the library.

“You wished to see me, Mother?” Giana stood in the doorway, hesitant to enter, Aurora knew, certain of another confrontation.

“Yes, Giana,” she said as pleasantly as she could. “Do come in and sit down, my dear. I believe it is time we came to an agreement.” How lovely she looks this morning, she thought, watching her graceful figure as she hesitantly seated herself on the edge of a papier-mâché chair. Lovely save for her sullen, pouting mouth.

“An agreement?”

“Today is the first of June. I will consent to your marriage to Randall Bennett on the first day of September if you will return to Rome with your Uncle Daniele and stay the summer with him.”

Aurora could see the distrust in her daughter’s eyes, the questions leaping about in her mind.

“When I say consent, Giana, I mean it. You will have as fine a we

dding as you wish, with my full support and agreement. Randall Bennett, as my son-in-law, will be able, if he wishes, to enter the business.”

“You think, Mother, that I will forget the only man I will ever love over the space of three short months?”

“No, Giana, that is not what I think.” Aurora looked down at her hands, and saw her knuckles were white from clutching her chair back. She supposed it was Giana’s scoffing voice that decided her irrevocably. “I have tried to tell you, Giana, that women, for the most part, lose all their choices once they wed, lose their freedom, and become only what their husbands wish them to be. No, don’t interrupt me yet. I am not speaking specifically of Randall Bennett, though I have no doubt that he would, once you were his wife and his property, treat you no differently. You would be trotted out on social occasions to be seen and admired as his possession, then quickly retired to your children and to the endless society of other women exactly like you. The most important decisions you would ever make would be what to have Cook serve for dinner, not the wines, certainly, for that is a man’s domain. You would decide which nanny you wished for your girl children and would have a choice of dressmakers. Your husband, you would find, would soon take a mistress. He would conduct his affairs discreetly only if he felt any liking for you at all.”

Giana could not help herself, and cried angrily, “Enough, Mother. Randall would not be like that, he loves me. He would cherish me, protect me, always. Never would he leave me to take a mistress.”

“Very well, Giana, that is what you believe. Are you prepared to spend the three months with your Uncle Daniele in order to gain my support? It is really a very short period of time.”

Three months without Randall. It seemed like an eternity. Giana gazed suspiciously at her mother, not understanding why Aurora could be so foolish as to think she would cease to love Randall, even if Aurora sent her to faraway China. She was tempted to tell her mother that she cared not a whit for her permission, when she remembered Randall’s saddened voice. “Oh, my little Giana, if only you—we—could persuade your mother to approve of our love and marriage. Life for us would be so much more pleasant. It distressed me, my darling, that you would be torn between your mother and me.”

“Very well, Mother, I will go with Uncle Daniele to Rome, but only for three months, mind you. But there is an agreement I demand from you in return. You must promise me that you will in no way try to remove Randall from my life while I am gone. If I return to find him changed in any way toward me, I shall never forgive you. Never.”

“Very well, Giana. I agree to that. But before you agree, I must tell you what will be required of you in order to gain my approval. While you are in Rome, you will do exactly as Daniele tells you. You will meet ladies, married ladies of Daniele’s choice, and see exactly how they live, how they think, what they talk about. Then—”

Giana scoffed, “Lord, Mother, I can do that in London.”

“Then you will see the other side of the coin. You will meet women whom these same ladies’ husbands spend their time with. You will talk to these women and learn from them how men use them, how, in fact, they scorn them and their wives.”