The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage Page 7

  But indignation faded in the beauty of the diamond band with its crown of one perfect jewel. She stretched out her hand to watch the light winking off the great stone, awed by its sheer extravagant glory.

  ‘I can’t take it,’ she said desperately. ‘I just can’t.’ But she didn’t lower her hand.

  ‘Mamma!’ Marco hailed his mother, hovering eagerly in the doorway. ‘Come and congratulate us on our engagement.’

  As he spoke he held up Harriet’s hand and Lucia gave a cry of admiration. ‘Oh, cara, what a beautiful ring!’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ she said, regarding her betrothed with cynical eyes. There was no turning back now.

  ‘How they’ll all gasp when they see it!’ Lucia exclaimed. ‘Now we can really settle down to enjoy planning the party.’

  ‘I shall have to be out of town for a few days,’ Marco said instantly.

  ‘Go away then,’ his mother told him. ‘We’ll do much better without you.’

  She departed, humming.

  ‘I won’t say anything about your total lack of scruples,’ Harriet said, ‘because we’ve already covered that. But I want it clearly understood that if I don’t go through with this-and right now that seems very unlikely-you will take this ring back.’

  ‘Naturally,’ he said, shocked. ‘You don’t think I’d have let you keep it? I’d need it for next time.’

  His eyes were teasing her, and suddenly she didn’t mind very much after all. He was overbearing and impossible, but there was nothing to be done about that. And he had a certain sly charm that could sneak in under her radar.

  But there was something else, that she hardly dared admit to herself. Sensible Harriet was retreating into the shadows, banished by another Harriet who wanted to take risks and live life to the full: as long as it was with him.

  The realisation shook her. She needed time to think about it.

  By the end of supper Lucia and Marco had agreed a guest list. Looking over it Harriet saw a name that made her eyes light up. ‘Baron Orazio Manelli,’ she said excitedly.

  ‘Do you know him?’ Marco asked.

  ‘No, but I want to. I’ve been trying to get past his front door for ages.’

  ‘I suppose he has some antique that you want?’

  ‘A thousand antiques, and from what I hear a lot of them have never been properly catalogued. He won’t let anyone near them. But it’ll be different now.’ Her voice became casual. ‘Do you know him well?’

  ‘Well enough to get you past his front door. I gather that’s what I’m expected to do?’

  ‘It’s not a problem is it?’

  ‘Would it make any difference if it was?’

  ‘Well-’

  ‘Don’t bother being polite. I’m glad to be of use.’

  That was one hurdle cleared, she thought, glad that Marco seemed merely amused. A happy vista of unexplored treasures was opening up to her.

  Marco was away for a week. Harriet and Lucia spent the time in a flurry of activity. Every one of the villa’s army of servants was engaged in spring cleaning the place and bringing it to new life. A stream of invitations went out, including one to Harriet’s father, but since there was no reply it seemed that he was still away.

  Within a day a stream of acceptances started to come in. All society was agog to see the woman who had ‘conquered the conqueror’, a phrase that was repeated through the salons of the city until it reached Harriet’s ears.

  ‘Well, this is Rome after all,’ she said wryly to Lucia. ‘The perfect place for going into the lion’s den.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lucia told her. ‘Marco knows all about the lions. He won’t let you face them alone.’

  Two days before the party Marco appeared at the villa and the three of them had a cheerful supper. Over coffee Lucia said, ‘The family will start to arrive tomorrow. Are you ready to meet them?’

  ‘A bit nervous,’ Harriet admitted.

  Lucia sighed. ‘I’m a little nervous myself. Francesco is bringing Liza-I can hardly bring myself to call her his fiancée. It’s an absurd name for a woman in her sixties.’

  ‘It’s not his fault they’ve left it so long,’ Marco pointed out. ‘He’s been begging her to marry him for years, but since she was his housekeeper she had the strange idea that their marriage was inappropriate.’

  Lucia sniffed. ‘She was correct.’

  Marco added, ‘Harriet has already met Dulcie, Mamma.’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Dulcie came into Harriet’s shop to sell the family silver,’ Lucia observed with some asperity.

  ‘It was a marble horse head actually,’ Harriet murmured without thinking. To cover this gaffe she added quickly, ‘I really look forward to seeing her again. We got on very well. After we’d done business we’d have lunch together. She’s great fun.’

  Lucia blenched. ‘Fun? Is that her only qualification for being the future Contessa Calvani?’

  ‘Well I-’

  ‘Don’t try to answer that,’ Marco told her quietly. ‘Mamma, you’re not being fair to Harriet.’

  ‘No, of course I’m not. It isn’t your fault, my dear.’ She patted Harriet’s hand and the moment mercifully passed.

  ‘Leo, of course, won’t arrive until the last moment,’ Lucia continued. ‘He’s uncomfortable in society, or anywhere civilised.’

  ‘True,’ Marco said with a grin. ‘In fact he probably wouldn’t come at all if he wasn’t going on to America, and Rome Airport will give him a more direct flight to Texas.’

  ‘Texas!’ Lucia sniffed again. ‘Anyone would think he was a cowboy.’

  ‘Since he’s going to a rodeo I suppose that’s what he is,’ Marco said mildly.

  ‘A rodeo?’ Harriet echoed.

  ‘Leo breeds horses in Tuscany,’ Marco explained. ‘They’re fine animals and much in demand. He’ll be riding in this rodeo and making some sales, I dare say.’

  ‘A cowboy!’ Lucia sighed in despair. ‘And he should be Francesco’s heir!’

  Next morning she and Lucia were waiting at the station for the Venice train, from which Count Francesco Calvani appeared, on his arm a thin elderly woman. This was Liza, his promised bride, and the sight of them together made Harriet smile. Their secret love had lasted all these years, and now that it could flower openly their pride and joy in each other was touching. How many young couples would still feel that way after years, she wondered? Certainly not herself and Marco, who didn’t even start with love.

  Of course, he might well be right, and a sensible arrangement was the best thing. But there was a lump in her throat as she regarded the elderly lovers.

  Marco’s cousin Guido was a good-looking charmer with a wicked glint in his eyes. But mostly those eyes rested on Dulcie, who would become his bride in a few weeks. If ever a man was in love-! Harriet thought, liking him for it.

  Dulcie greeted her with a whoop and an embrace. ‘I can’t believe it’s really you. Just fancy, we’re going to be related. That’ll be great.’

  ‘Yes,’ Harriet agreed, wondering if that day would really come. The glittering ring on her finger was real enough but everything else had an air of unreality. For the moment the only thing to do was plunge into the festivities wholeheartedly, and she was eager to enjoy them, despite her many confusions.

  She might disapprove of the count’s marriage but Lucia’s behaviour to Liza was charming. Behind her pride her heart was kind, and Liza was soon relaxing in her company.

  She was also relaxed with Marco, Harriet noticed, evidently feeling that his kindness too could be relied on. He kissed her cheek, addressed her as Aunt, and gave her his arm into the house.

  Over supper Guido entertained them with the story of the many misunderstandings that had attended his first meeting with Dulcie, in Venice, when she’d thought he was a gondolier, and he hadn’t known that she was hiding a secret of her own. They were all laughing when Harriet looked up and saw a tall, massively built young man standing in the doorway. With his sh
aggy hair and rough-hewn appearance he was immediately identifiable as the ‘country bumpkin’.

  There was a general cry of ‘Leo!’, and Guido and Marco rose to shake his hand and thump him on the back. The young giant grinned and thumped them back, then kissed Lucia and Dulcie. Harriet got to her feet to meet him, and he gave her the appraising glance she was growing used to. He was as handsome as the other two, but the impression he made was more powerfully physical. The Calvani men, Harriet decided, were simply too much.

  She instinctively liked Leo, who shook her hand and kissed her cheek with the simplicity of a man who found actions easier than thought. Keeping her hand between his, he then looked her up and down with an appreciative grin that went on getting broader. Playing up to him, she gazed back, until Marco coughed significantly.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked, giving him a dazed stare.

  Everyone roared with laughter, including, she was glad to notice, Marco. He wasn’t a man who would normally accept such teasing, but the family’s appreciation of her quick wit had delighted him.

  ‘Go away, Leo, while I remind my fiancée who I am,’ Marco said with a grin. ‘And leave her alone in future.’

  Leo winked at her and hissed, ‘The terrace at midnight,’ in a stage whisper, but Harriet was prevented from answering by Marco’s arm, firmly about her waist, drawing her away.

  ‘We were just fooling,’ she protested, still chuckling.

  ‘I know, but you want to watch Leo. He “fools” with a lot of girls. He’s a “love ’em and leave ’em” man.’

  ‘Strange, I heard the same about you.’

  His brows contracted. ‘I wonder where you heard that.’

  ‘Everywhere.’ Her eyes challenged him and he backed down first.

  ‘Let’s finish supper,’ he said.

  Since the meal was half over Leo had a lot of catching up to do, and tucked in with gusto while the talk swirled around him. When he spoke it was usually to ask Harriet about herself, not pretending to be amorous now, but with every appearance of cousinly interest. It might have been simply good manners, but it warmed her heart. She began to feel as though a dream had come true against all the odds. This was the culmination of something that had been happening ever since Lucia had welcomed her at the station. She was accepted. The whole dashing, colourful Calvani family had opened its collective arms to her. To someone who’d felt rejected most of her life it was overwhelming.

  It was hard to believe that the Calvani men came from the same family, their looks were so different, although they were all, as Lucia had observed to Harriet, ‘handsome as devils’.

  At seventy-two the count bore the marks of a lifetime’s self-indulgence, but not enough to obliterate the remains of brilliant good looks. Leo and Guido were half-brothers, Leo radiating the vigour and energy of a man of the earth: lusty, uncomplicated, great-hearted. Guido’s build was slighter than his brother’s, his boyish looks balanced by a shrewd intelligence, and he had a nervous energy that kept him restless, except when Dulcie was nearby.

  To Harriet’s eyes Marco was by far the most impressive, elegant, controlled, unrevealing, his own man in everything. In the heart of his family he was a changed man, relaxed, readier to laugh. But it was still hard to imagine him behaving with Leo’s cheerful indifference, or regarding a woman with the blatant adoration that shone from Guido’s eyes.

  She wondered about the woman he’d nearly married, and whose name was never mentioned in this house. Had he truly loved her, or had she fled him in despair at being unable to penetrate his protective shell? That was more likely, she thought.

  And yet he had a surprise for her as the party broke up to go to bed, taking her hand and leading her out onto the terrace.

  ‘You have a midnight appointment out here,’ he reminded her.

  ‘But not with you,’ she said provocatively.

  ‘It had better be with me,’ he said with a smile that provoked her even more.

  And she wanted nothing better, she thought as his lips touched hers. There was a sweetness in this kiss that melted her and made her lean in to him, wanting more. But he drew back a little, and she saw him regarding her with an odd little half-smile. She raised her eyebrows in a query, but he only shook his head, and she felt the brief interlude had posed more questions than it answered.

  On the night of the party Harriet was just finishing dressing when Dulcie, a dream in dark blue silk and diamonds, swept into her room.

  ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘You look fantastic. No wonder you melted the Iceman’s heart.’

  ‘The Iceman?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ Dulcie was conscience stricken. ‘But Guido says it’s what the family have always called him. Not to his face, naturally. You know how grim he can be. But of course you see a side of him that nobody else does.’ She gave a delighted chuckle. ‘Now I’ve made you blush.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Harriet said, although conscious that she was going pink. There was something in the implication that she and Marco were lovers that discomposed her. To hide her face she turned away and patted down her dress.

  The beautician had come out from the salon to take charge of her appearance, and Harriet’s face was made-up with subtle flattery, so that her expressive green eyes dominated her face. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, with just a few curving wisps gently drifting down about her cheeks and neck.

  She wore a clinging dress of golden brown crushed velvet. She knew she looked good and the knowledge gave her confidence.

  There was a knock at the door and Dulcie opened it to reveal Guido and Marco, both in bow-ties and dinner jackets, both incredibly handsome.

  Marco surveyed Harriet with satisfaction. ‘Bene! Just as I hoped. This will look splendid on you.’

  He opened a black box, revealing a heavy gold chain. Dulcie stared at it, wide-eyed, before seizing Guido’s hand and whisking him away.

  ‘Spoilsport,’ her beloved chided her when they were out in the corridor. ‘It would have been fun to see the Iceman playing the lover.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have seen it,’ Dulcie told him. ‘Marco wouldn’t open up with us there. But now that we’re gone I’ll bet they’re locked in a passionate embrace.’

  Guido inched hopefully back towards the door. ‘Can’t we just-?’

  ‘Behave yourself! Besides, I have other plans for you.’

  His eyes gleamed. ‘Ah, that’s different.’ He allowed himself to be led away in the opposite direction.

  They would both have been disappointed had they seen Marco’s calm demeanour as he raised the elaborate chain and draped it around Harriet’s neck.

  ‘I’ve always known that gold would suit you,’ he said, fastening the clasp at the back. ‘I was right.’

  Awed, Harriet gazed at the woman in the mirror and didn’t know her. This wasn’t herself, but a magnificent creature, with a timeless splendour. She might have been Cleopatra, or some ancient pagan goddess. Marco had judged perfectly.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I never dreamed I could look like that.’

  ‘I know. You have discerning eyes for everyone but yourself. I have known this about you from the first moment.’

  A special note in his voice made her conscious that his fingers were still resting against her neck. Glancing in the mirror she met his eyes and saw in them a glow that he’d never shown her face to face. Then he seemed to become self-conscious, and the shutters came down again.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Lucia asked from the door. ‘People are beginning to arrive.’

  The other five were waiting in the corridor. Even Leo had managed to shrug himself into a dinner jacket. Lucia, splendid in rubies, surveyed them all with satisfaction.

  ‘The Calvanis are a handsome family,’ she said. ‘And they attract handsome women. Now let’s all go down and knock ’em dead.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  S TANDING in the receiving line Harriet thought the guests would go on forever. There were a number of bank
ing ‘big names’ and some of Marco’s most important clients, but there were also a lot of titles, Countess this, Princess that, Duke, Baron. This was society with a capital S.

  Where it wasn’t titled, it was wealthy. Harriet guessed that half the bank vaults in Rome must have disgorged their contents of family jewels. Tiaras, rivières, bracelets, earrings, diamonds, rubies, emeralds and pearls, each one signifying that its wearer would compete in riches with any other woman there.

  As she could herself, she realised. The glowing gold that Marco had fastened around her neck was, in itself, a declaration. And so was the ring. She shuddered at the thought of wearing a ring worth a ‘mere’ ten thousand in this company. The one now weighing down her hand informed the world that Marco Calvani’s chosen bride was a woman who commanded his respect, and therefore must command theirs.

  The women seemed young or middle-aged, most of them older than they looked because they had time and money to spend fighting the years. They were dressed in the height of luxurious fashion, not merely to look good but to make a statement. Not a fashion statement. Something else.

  Beware!

  That was it.

  There was a frisson in the air, a sense of danger, and suddenly she could hear Olympia’s voice saying, ‘Marco’s known as a lady-killer, with the emphasis on killer.’

  They were watching her with hungry, glittering eyes. Curiosity, jealousy, cynicism? All these and more. Lust, envy, memories, anticipation. Some of these bold-eyed creatures had been his lovers, and wanted her to know that. And they were frankly calculating how long she could keep him faithful. Not long, some of them were doubtless thinking. They wanted her to know that, too.

  She was in the lion’s den.

  A spurt of anger inspired her to raise her head and straighten her shoulders.

  No matter that this engagement might soon be over. Tonight, at least, he was officially hers, and she would defend her right to him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Marco asked, glancing at her.