Evening Star (Star Quartet 1)

It was nearly noon before Alex, laden with packages of food and bottles of a light white wine, returned to the cottage. He stepped into the bedroom quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she slept, and clenched his jaw in anger. He knew that she wasn’t wandering about outside. She had left, and taken her valise with her. He found a hastily scrawled note on her pillow. “Mr. Saxton,” he read, “you may take yourself back to America with my best wishes, and with a clear conscience, at least where I am concerned. I trust that even you will now consider my debt paid in full. Though you will be tied now to the Van Cleves, you will not have to worry that anyone will ever know what happened, nor will you ever have to deal with me again. As you so kindly said, I have many years to go before I equal my mother. I will not even pray that your ship sinks on your crossing back to New York.” She had signed with an insolent flourish: “Georgiana Van Cleve.”

Lanson tugged at his ear as he said to Aurora, “The American gentleman, Mr. Alexander Saxton, ma’am, is asking to see Miss Giana. I informed him she has not yet returned from her holiday. He then insisted that he wishes to see you.”

Aurora calmly put down the Sunday paper she was reading and rose. “Do show Mr. Saxton in, Lanson.”

Alex glanced at the rich inset bookshelves that lined two walls of her library, and admired her taste in the light French furniture that gave the room a cool airiness. “Mrs. Van Cleve,” he said as he stepped toward her.

Aurora returned his cool greeting, offering her hand. “Mr. Saxton, I believe Lanson informed you that Giana has not yet returned.”

Alex took a deep breath, and plunged forward. “It is because of your daughter that I have come, Mrs. Van Cleve.”

An elegant black brow arched upward. “Indeed, sir? Pray sit down, Mr. Saxton. Would you care for a glass of sherry, perhaps?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Alex watched her walk gracefully to the sideboard and pour the wine from a crystal decanter. He wondered, yet again, if he weren’t being a total and complete ass. Giana could not have been more specific. She never wanted to see him again. She did not wish to marry him, and in her mind, she had released him from any obligation he might feel. But dammit, he had dishonored her, and she, stubborn little fool that she was, would simply have to realize that there was no choice for either of them. He accepted the glass from Mrs. Van Cleve and sipped at it.

“From your own vineyard, Mrs. Van Cleve?”

“Yes, Mr. Saxton. This particular sherry is from Pamplona.”

Aurora seated herself opposite him and waited patiently for him to get to the point of his visit. When the silence lengthened, she said with cool impatience, “Giana is in Folkestone, visiting friends.”

“No,” he said. “Giana was with me in Folkestone.”

Aurora felt her stomach plummet to her toes, though she showed no outward sign of astonishment. “I see,” she said carefully. “If that is so, Mr. Saxton, why aren’t you with her now?”

“She left me there. I had assumed that she would return here, indeed, that perhaps she had told your butler to lie to me.”

“But I have told you Giana is not here.” Her eyes held his, and though her mind was racing, she continued calmly enough, “Perhaps, sir, you had best tell me what happened.”

Alex rose restlessly from the sofa and paced the floor in front of her. He turned to face her suddenly and rapped out, “I was the man who bought Giana four years ago in Rome at the Flower Auction.”

“The Flower Auction?” Aurora repeated blankly. “I don’t know what you are saying, Mr. Saxton.”

“The Flower Auction, Mrs. Van Cleve, is an event held for wealthy gentlemen every few months in Rome. I attended the function toward the end of the summer. Your daughter, ma’am, was one of the virgins who was to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. It was I who bought her. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your point of view, I was struck over the head, and awoke in an alley. I searched for her the next day, and for the old man I believed struck me, but she had vanished. I did not see her again until we met in your conference room. I hope, Mrs. Van Cleve, that you can imagine my confusion and my ire.”

Aurora paled before his eyes. Dear God, what had Daniele forced Giana to do? Sold at an auction? She raised appalled eyes to his face. “I would imagine, Mr. Saxton, that the old man was her uncle, Daniele Cippolo. He would have struck you to protect my daughter.”

“This is beginning to sound like some ludicrous melodrama.”

“Mr. Saxton, what have you done to Giana? Where is she?”

“I don’t know where she is at the moment,” Alex said quietly, “but I must find her. I want her to marry me.”

“Marry you?”

The self-assured Aurora Van Cleve was regarding him with bewilderment. “Mrs. Van Cleve,” he said, sitting down beside her, “I see that I should tell you everything.” He did, beginning with that night at the Flower Auction. He told her of his fury at seeing Giana again, the daughter of the famous Aurora Van Cleve. “So you see, ma’am, I threatened her into my bed. It was a debt she owed me, a debt I was determined she should pay. Please do not imagine a sordid seduction scene.” For the first time, he smiled slightly, his features relaxing. “Giana came down with the influenza, but she didn’t tell me—why, I still do not really know. I will not lie to you, ma’am. I took your daughter, and at first, she wanted me. Unfortunately, her illness and my exuberance combined to make quite a farce of the evening.” He stared down at his hands, clasped together between his knees. “You needn’t worry about her illness now. She was feeling much better by the time she left this morning. She wrote me this note.” Alex dug into his waistcoat pocket and handed the folded square of paper to Aurora.

Aurora read Giana’s brief letter once quickly, then again, more slowly. When she raised her eyes to his face, he said, “Your daughter doesn’t mince matters, does she, ma’am? But in this instance, she is being an irresponsible little fool. I am not pretending to be in any way the gift horse, Mrs. Van Cleve, it is just that I will not let another suffer for an ill I myself caused. You must tell me where she is. I will convince her, you may be certain.”

“You are telling me, sir, that you blackmailed my daughter into your bed, and now, with your man’s pride, you blithely expect her to fall into your arms?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly. “That’s about it, I expect.”

Aurora took a deep breath to compose herself. Giana, she guessed, had escaped to Cornwall, to the small cottage near Penzance that had once belonged to Aurora’s father. “No, Mr. Saxton,” she said quietly, “I will not tell you where she is, though I do have a good notion of her destination. She seems, from her note, not to wish to have anything more to do with you. I will bow to her judgment.”

“Judgment? The little chit has so little sense she deserves to be thrashed. Mrs. Van Cleve, she wasn’t completely well when she left Folkestone this morning.”