Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

“You want me to be one of the girls at the auction?”

“Yes. I have already spoken to Signora Lamponni, the directress, so to speak, of the event. I have paid her a fee, and she will allow you to take part. Only the most beautiful girls have been selected, all trained harlots, but their virginity has been carefully guarded in anticipation of this night. The sums of money sometimes paid for their maidenheads is truly astounding.”

“You go too far with this, Uncle.” She shook her head vigorously, her lips tightly compressed.

“You will not have to worry, Giana, for I shall be the man who buys you, and I promise I shall close the bidding before you are naked on the dais.”

“Naked?”

Her eyes were huge with outrage, but he ignored her, and continued smoothly, “Yes. You see, the gentlemen bid for them. They remove their clothing, slowly and enticingly, to let the gentlemen’s lust raise the sum bid for them all the higher. They disrobe until the bidding has stopped and a man has bought their services for the night. But it frequently happens that the gentlemen draw out the bidding just to see the girls standing naked before them. Then if the man who has purchased a girl wishes, he can examine her himself, in front of all the other gentlemen, to assure himself that she is indeed a virgin.”

“It is despicable. I will not be part of such a disgusting, perverted display.”

“Oh yes you will, Giana. You are so close to fulfilling both your agreements; to your mother and to me. To refuse to cooperate with me now would mean that all you have done would go for naught.”

“Mother would be frantic if she knew what you were making me do.”

Daniele shrugged. “That, Giana, is beside the point. Your mother placed you in my care; and you, my dear, agreed to undertake whatever I wish. Do not flout me now, Giana. Think of the prize you will have in such a short time.”

He hooked his thumb under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes were still filled with shock.

“Please, Uncle,” Giana whispered, “do not make me do this. I beg of you.”

He hesitated but an instant, then said firmly, “Don’t worry, my dear, I will buy you before you have to remove your gown.” He saw that she would protest further. “Listen to me, Giana. All you have done this summer is observe passively. You have no idea of what it feels like to be the object of a man’s desire. No, you will neither plead nor argue with me further. At least at the Flower Auction you will feel what it is like to be put up for sale, like a horse.”

Giana drew back from him. But two more weeks, she thought, but two more weeks. But she felt afraid, more afraid than she had felt that first night at Madame Lucienne’s when Signore Salvado had casually caressed her breasts. She raised her face and looked at him. “Not a horse, Uncle,” she said coldly. “A mare.”

“Good. You have regained your perspective, I see.”

A welcome thunderstorm blew through the heat-baked city, and took the heat with it. Giana found she even needed a shawl over her demure white silk gown. There was not a bit of makeup on her face to spoil the innocence of the tender young flower in her virginal white gown, waiting to be plucked. Only the curling auburn wig with its fluffy tendrils falling over her forehead served to disguise her.

The villa Daniele directed his driver to was off the Via Merulana. It was a tall red-brick building set behind a thick wall of trees and a high black iron fence. A servant in black livery opened the grating gate upon seeing Daniele’s elegant invitation. Giana started forward at the sound of dogs snarling near the carriage.

“No need to worry, they are chained, Giana. Signora Lamponni likes her privacy. I will shortly leave you in her hand. You will join the other girls before you make your entrance into the grand salon to mix with the gentlemen. The auction begins promptly at eight o’clock.” Daniele leaned over in the carriage, took Giana’s chin in his hand, and said gently, “I urge you to look about you, Giana, and to listen. It is true that all the girls, save you, are quite willing to be auctioned off tonight, for they will earn a great deal of money in the process. But the fact remains that it is men and their desires who have made the Flower Auction a fact. It is they who have placed such value on a girl’s virginity, and they who will pay to take that innocence. It is, I suppose, a reaffirmation of their power, of their manhood.”

“You are a man, Uncle.”

“Yes, but an old one. I find I become quite the philosopher as my own desires fade. I don’t want you to become a victim, Giana, it’s really as simple as that. That is your mother’s wish also, I might add.”

“But is there still no caring? Do not some men love their wives faithfully? Surely they cannot all be animals. What of Angela’s husband, Signore Cavour?”

“Yes, he is faithful to his young wife, so far as I know. She is lovely, quite submissive, and worships him. He is a god to her, a role he undoubtedly relishes. But even with his love, she is smothered in stupid tradition that dooms her to a life that is appallingly restricted, while he—” Daniele shrugged. It was odd, he thought, that he should be condemning a quite workable system, one that he himself never questioned, had in fact found most comfortable, until he had met Aurora.

“Signore Cavour is fat,” Giana said, “and Angela starves herself to please him.”

Daniele laughed. “She is wise for one so young. Perhaps she will keep him faithful. Who knows?”

Giana shrugged, but her lips were drawn into a thin line. He leaned over and patted her gloved hand.

“Do not despair, Giana. Someday you will find a man who will be your equal, and be all things to you, as you will be to him.” Daniele waited for Giana to throw Randall Bennett in his face as the paragon of all virtues, but she remained silent.

She was shown by a stone-faced woman servant into a small antechamber where five young girls were chatting gaily. They looked up, watching her as she entered, and she

felt for an instant as if she were back at Madame Orlie’s seminary, joining the other girls for afternoon tea, until she saw their eyes. They were assessing her value, just as might a competitor. They were all quite young, pretty, and dressed in soft pastel colors. With their full skirts pressed together, they looked like a vivid rainbow.

“Ah, you are finally here, signorina. Come, I wish to speak to all of you before you join the gentlemen.”

Signora Lamponni was an immense woman, tall and large-boned, with striking sable-colored hair and wide brown eyes. She was dressed in severe black silk, like a respectable middle-aged matron, and not a procurer of young virgins. The five young faces were staring at her, drinking in her words. Giana shook her head, realizing that she was not listening.