The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage Read online

  Instead he dressed quickly, while she lay listening to the rustling movements, waiting for the moment when he would awaken her to say goodbye. Or perhaps he would simply kiss her, and she could put her arms about him. But then the movements stopped, and there was a long silence. She opened her eyes to see him standing in the window, his head sunk on his chest, the picture of a deeply troubled man. He seemed to be staring at the inner distance and seeing something there that disturbed him.

  At last he straightened his shoulders and seemed to give himself a little shake, as though discarding thoughts that were no use to him. Then he walked out of the door.

  CHAPTER TEN

  T HREE days later they all flew to Venice, Harriet and Lucia departing from the villa, and Marco going from his apartment and meeting them at Rome airport.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not sickening for something?’ Lucia asked Harriet anxiously as they drove to the airport. ‘You’re very pale, and you’ve been quiet the last couple of days.’

  ‘I just don’t enjoy flying,’ Harriet put her off.

  It was true that she’d been quiet ever since the moment she’d seen her lover leave in the dawn, and lain there, aching with desolation.

  She acquitted him of deliberate unkindness. She would never forget that he’d returned to the house to comfort her, how gently he’d spoken, and how much understanding he’d shown. He’d felt with her, as only a truly sensitive man could have done, and she would always love him for it.

  In the moments of passion, too, he’d treated her with great tenderness. But then he’d left her alone in a way that felt nothing less than brutal.

  The next day Lucia had told her excitedly of Marco’s encounter with the Baroness d’Alari, and the way he’d risked losing valuable business to defend her. That too warmed her heart, but it cooled again when she realised that he wasn’t going to tell her himself.

  She could sympathise with the wariness that made him shrink from too much human contact. She could even pity him for it. But she increasingly felt that she couldn’t live with it.

  A resolution had formed in her, to leave as soon as possible after the wedding. It would break her heart, but the misery would be short-lived, unlike the misery of being married to a man who would allow himself to get close to her only to withdraw as though she’d turned into an enemy.

  With the decision taken she pushed it aside until after the coming weddings, determined not to spoil them for anyone else. At Rome airport she greeted Marco with cool composure, and a smile that gave away no more than did his own. This was her first trip to Venice, and she was going to enjoy it. She could be wretched later.

  The Calvani family began to gather in Venice two days before the first wedding. The Rome party arrived to find Guido and Dulcie waiting for them with two motor boats to take them across the lagoon, one driven by Guido himself.

  ‘You’re lucky he’s not trying to take you in a gondola,’ Dulcie chuckled, referring to their early courtship when she’d thought he was a gondolier, and he’d let her go on believing it, thinking that he was luring her into his net, while actually he was the one being lured.

  The Palazzo Calvani was a treasure trove of masterpieces and Harriet soon settled to explore it in the company of the count’s archivist, who had been put at her disposal.

  Leo turned up next day, looking less cheerful than Harriet remembered. She and Dulcie were both fond of him, and it took them no time to divine his trouble. Settling on the big sofa, one each side of him, they went onto the attack.

  ‘You’ve found her at last,’ Harriet said.

  He played dumb. ‘Her?’

  She thumped his shoulder. ‘You know what I mean. Her! The one.’ Remembering that he was at heart a cowboy she added, ‘She’s got you roped and tied.’

  ‘What’s her name?’ Dulcie demanded.

  ‘Selena. I met her in Texas. We stayed at the same ranch after she had an accident with her horse trailer.’

  He fell silent.

  ‘And?’ they asked, in an agony of impatience.

  ‘We practised for the rodeo together.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She fell off. So did I. Mind you, she only fell off in the practise ring, and I did it in front of a crowd of thousands. But we both fell off.’

  ‘So you started with something in common,’ Dulcie said wisely.

  ‘A marriage of true minds,’ Harriet agreed.

  ‘I shouldn’t think minds had much to do with it,’ Dulcie observed, recalling certain tales Guido had told her about Leo.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Leo sighed like a man remembering bliss. ‘It was wonderful.’

  Harriet’s lips twitched as she met Dulcie’s eyes, equally full of mirth.

  ‘You should have brought her here to meet us,’ she said.

  ‘That’s just the trouble, I don’t know where to find her.’

  ‘But didn’t you exchange names and addresses?’ Dulcie asked.

  ‘Yes, but-’ He plunged into a long account of the troubles that had separated him from his true love, finishing gloomily, ‘I might never see her again.’

  A cry of, ‘Hey, Leo!’ made him drift off to join the other men. Dulcie and Harriet refused to meet each other’s eyes, but at last they couldn’t stand it, and burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh, we mustn’t,’ Harriet said, conscience stricken. ‘We’re terrible to laugh.’

  ‘I know,’ Dulcie choked. ‘But I can’t help it. Did you ever hear such a crazy story?’

  Harriet shook her head. ‘Poor Leo. It could only happen to him.’

  The next day they all gathered in the small side chapel of St Mark’s Basilica, for the wedding of Count Calvani to his beloved Liza. The count’s three nephews were groomsmen, and Liza was attended by the three ladies.

  The reception was a strange affair. Despite her new status Liza was first and foremost a housewife who’d spent the last three months organising Dulcie and Guido’s wedding, set for next day. This was a big society occasion, with enough guests to fill the glorious St Mark’s Basilica, followed by a huge reception at the Palazzo Calvani which she insisted on overseeing in every detail.

  She lingered at her own reception long enough for her devoted groom to toast her, then hurried off to the kitchens, for ‘a quick look.’ At last Count Francesco yielded to the inevitable and followed her.

  ‘I don’t think she appreciates her good fortune at all,’ Lucia said in bafflement. ‘She treats him really badly.’

  ‘That may be the secret,’ Guido said with a grin. ‘After all the women who put themselves out to catch his eye, the one he loves is the one who makes him fight for her attention.’

  After that the party broke up into couples. Guido and Dulcie wandered away, arms about each other. Leo and Lucia settled down for a long comfortable talk in the moonlit garden, and Marco said abruptly to Harriet, ‘Shall we take a walk?’

  Venice at night, a city of dark alleys leading to mystery, half-lights, ancient stones, shadows. The faint sound of music reached them, intermingled with the haunting cries of gondoliers echoing back and forth through the tiny canals. They strolled in silence for a while, walking apart.

  ‘I thought we should talk,’ he said.

  ‘It’s time,’ she agreed.

  ‘Watching that wedding service today made me do a lot of thinking. You, too, I expect.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she mused. ‘A lot.’

  ‘They say one wedding begets another. Don’t you realise how people are looking at us, expecting us to name the day?’

  ‘I had noticed the odd significant look.’

  ‘Tomorrow might be a good time.’

  ‘A time for-?’ she asked cautiously.

  ‘To announce a wedding date. We’ve had enough time to make a decision. My own decision is made. I did a wise thing when I came to London to find you. And you’re a natural Roman, anyone can see that. You’re even building up a clientele. When you move your business here you’ll have the basics already. We make a
perfect team.’

  ‘Looked at like that, I suppose we do,’ she mused.

  ‘So can I tell my mother that it’s settled?’ he asked briskly.

  This was it? This was a proposal of marriage in the softly lit alleys of Venice, with the stars glowing up above, and the atmosphere of romance all around? She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  ‘I don’t think we should rush a decision,’ she said at last. ‘You say I’m suitable because I’m a natural Roman and because I’ve already started to build up a clientele. That’s a pretty narrow list of qualifications for a wife. Also, there’s something that’s never been mentioned between us, and perhaps it should be.’

  ‘I was waiting for you to speak about it,’ he said. ‘That night we spent together-came as quite a surprise.’

  ‘You mean because you were the first man I’d slept with? Does it matter?’

  ‘It took me completely by surprise. You’re twenty-seven, and these days-’

  ‘I know. But most men have always bored me after a short time, even the ones I briefly thought I fancied. When it came to the point, there was always something more interesting to do, and they never seemed to stick around to try to persuade me.’

  ‘Can you blame them for losing heart once they realised they were competing with the Emperor Augustus?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  They walked on and found themselves at the edge of St Mark’s Square, which was emptying fast. At the outdoor cafés the chairs were being put on tables and the orchestras had fallen silent, all but one solitary violinist still playing for a couple dancing in the piazza, lost in each other.

  ‘I thought we were reasonably good together,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you?’

  The warmth of his breath on her face, his body entwined with hers, urging, compelling, imploring, the hot, dark madness of him inside her. Reasonably good together.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said wryly, ‘the experiment was a success in every way. Optimum results.’

  Take me in your arms and dance with me under the stars, to a lone violin.

  ‘I think things have gone well since the day you arrived. The best day is the first Saturday in September.’

  The violin stopped.

  ‘You’ve fixed the date without consulting me?’

  ‘Not fixed, but I’ve been thinking of suitable dates. I’ve got some big deals going down.’

  ‘All your deals are big,’ she mused, playing for time.

  ‘But these are different. They’ll make me. It’ll be a partnership.’

  ‘And that’s what you really want, more than anything in the world?’

  He gave a little embarrassed laugh. ‘Not just that. I’d be the youngest partner the bank’s ever had. Maybe it’s a kind of vanity, but it would please me. This will take all my attention for the next few weeks. By the time I can raise my head it will be September, and the summer will be over unless we make our plans now.’

  ‘No, Marco stop it. I won’t be rushed.’

  ‘But it’s common sense-’

  ‘Listen,’ she said desperately. ‘Do you remember what you said to me in the Bella Figura? You said, “Control is the answer. If you’re not in control, somebody else is. So you must always be the one in control.” I didn’t know then how true it was. Even with me.’

  ‘You’re reading more into that than it’ll take. One of us has to plan ahead.’

  ‘You’re planning too far ahead for me. I’m sorry, but I’m just not sure about marriage.’

  ‘But you just said-’

  ‘Sometimes optimum results aren’t enough.’

  ‘Well, what will be enough?’

  ‘I don’t know, but the jury’s still out. I don’t know what my future plans are.’

  ‘You don’t mean-’ he was peering at her in the semi darkness ‘-that you’re actually thinking of leaving?’

  ‘Not leaving Rome, just your home. There are some nice apartments on the Via del-’

  He drew a sharp breath. ‘You’ve been looking at apartments?’

  ‘Only in the newspapers.’

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ he said coldly. ‘May I ask when you were going to tell me?’

  ‘Not until after we’d left here. And I still haven’t quite decided.’

  ‘So until you do I’m supposed to bide my time and be a suppliant, waiting on your pleasure? Perhaps I don’t like that?’

  ‘And perhaps I don’t like your assumption that since you’ve made your decision I have to jump to it. There are two decisions to be made here, Marco. Not just yours.’

  He turned away, striding up and down on the flag-stones. Harriet could sense his irritation at having his plans frustrated.

  ‘Maybe people who fight as much as we do shouldn’t think of marriage,’ she suggested. ‘Let’s leave it there for tonight, or we’ll really quarrel.’

  ‘All right. Let’s leave it there.’

  They walked back through the little streets, where the ghosts of a thousand lovers lingered, whispering to those who had ears to hear. But these two passed on without a backward glance. When they came to the side entrance to the Palazzo Calvani they slipped indoors, bid each other a courteous goodnight, and went their separate ways.

  One by one, the lights were going out along the Grand Canal. In the garden Leo rose and helped Lucia to her feet.

  ‘Thank you for listening to my ramblings,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid Dulcie and Harriet thought me a bit of a clown.’

  ‘Well, your life has been rather full of entanglements,’ Lucia said, patting his hand. ‘But if Selena is the right woman, you’ll find her again. Although I think she’s quite mad if she doesn’t come to find you.’

  ‘Maybe she doesn’t want to find me,’ Leo said gloomily.

  ‘Enough of that kind of talk,’ Lucia said severely. ‘If your love is fated to be, it will be. Now, tomorrow’s a wedding. We’re all going to enjoy ourselves.’

  Dulcie and Guido said goodnight outside her bedroom.

  ‘Can’t I come in, just for a moment?’ he whispered.

  ‘Not the night before the wedding. It isn’t proper.’

  ‘Proper? Hang it Dulcie, after what we’ve been doing whenever we got the chance-? No, don’t laugh like that. It does things to me. I may lose all control.’

  She kissed him tenderly. ‘Go to bed and dream of me.’

  ‘I always dream of you. Do you love me?’

  ‘More than life. More than all the world.’

  ‘There are no words to say how much I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Goodnight heart of my heart, until tomorrow, when I shall make you mine.’

  ‘Now leave the work,’ Francesco commanded his new countess as she took a last look around the great kitchens. ‘It’s time my bride stopped neglecting me and kissed me instead.’

  ‘Your bride,’ she whispered. ‘After so long.’

  ‘After too long, beloved.’

  He took both her hands and gazed into her face, seeing not the lines, but the beautiful candour with which she’d first looked at him, forty-five years ago.

  Liza smiled back. For her too the signs of age were invisible, and he was the young lion she’d first worshipped in those long-ago days when she’d been a kitchen maid and any thought of marriage had seemed hopeless. But through long years he’d loved her steadfastly, perhaps not always faithfully, but, she would have argued, who could blame him for that when she kept turning him down?

  She rested her head against him. ‘I’m sorry caro, but how could I neglect the preparation for tomorrow? It’s the big wedding.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ he said, drawing her firmly away from the kitchen. ‘Today was the big wedding. Come, my adored one…’

  Dulcie was a traditional bride, glowing in white satin and lace, wearing the Calvani pearls for the first time. She looked serenely happy, while Guido looked as if he was taking something seriously for the first time in his life, according to Marco.

  Marco and Leo were the gro
omsmen, Marco impeccably dressed and stylish, Leo occasionally running a finger around the inside of his formal collar.

  Last night’s reception had been confined to the family, at Liza’s wish. This one was a glittering affair, spreading through most of the great palazzo. Light poured out of every door and window and gleamed from the jewellery of several hundred woman. The cream of Italian society was here.

  Despite what she’d said the night before Harriet was wearing her engagement ring, not wanting to attract attention today. Dancing in Marco’s arms, she played her role of the happy fiancée, and gradually realised that it was as he’d said. People were smiling at them significantly.

  She’d dressed more sedately than had been her habit in company recently. This was the bride’s day, so her gown was a demure olive-green silk, cut with extreme elegance and simplicity.

  ‘Did I tell you that you look wonderful?’ Marco said. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  The music seemed to be flowing through her veins, making her dip and sway as though there were no problems in the world. Thankfully his annoyance of last night hadn’t carried over to today. He’d performed his wedding duties charmingly, and smiled through the first few dances before holding out his hand to Harriet in a silent invitation.

  Dulcie, watching them, signalled to the band who promptly broke into a popular song called ‘See How He Loves You’. The crowd cheered, thinking of the bride and groom who were dancing together, holding each other close, but Dulcie mischievously pointed a finger at Marco and Harriet.

  Despite her resolution to be sensible she found herself responding to Marco’s nearness, his arms about her, the closeness of his face to hers. Their last embrace had been in her bed, naked, limbs entwined, exchanging pleasure. The dance was like a teasing echo of that time, a reminder, a promise…

  At this moment it was easy to believe that nothing else mattered. Warmth seemed to enfold her, his warmth, her own, welling up from deep inside her in response to him. The handsome face near hers was the face she loved, the dark eyes gentle, glowing, silently telling her that he too was thinking…