Шантель Шоу – The Italians: Angelo, Rocco & Stefano: Wife in the Shadows / A Dangerous Infatuation / The Italian's Blushing Gardener (страница 10)

She felt too weary to think any more, as she watched Angelo Manzini bow slightly, kiss her godmother’s hand then leave.

The Principessa came over to her, studying her with critical eyes. ‘You look a little worn, dearest girl. If you go to your room, my maid will bring you this wonderful concealer that I have discovered and show you how to use it. You must look radiant for your fidanzamento.’

Ellie gave her an anguished look. ‘Godmamma—I.’

Lucrezia Damiano kissed her on the cheek. ‘And do not worry, my little one.’ She gave a determined nod. ‘All will be well. All will be very well. You will see.’

Consolata was deft and clever with cosmetics, Ellie was forced to admit. The face that looked back at her from the mirror was no longer as pale and strained as it had been. Her lashes had been darkened with mascara, and her mouth defined by a soft coral lipstick.

The older woman had frowned and sighed, however, over the limited choice of clothing in the wardrobe and reluctantly agreed that the skirt and top Ellie was already wearing would have to do.

But the signorina was not to go immediately to the sala da pranzo, she added. The Principe had returned and wished first to speak to her in the garden.

Ellie’s heart sank, but she supposed the interview with Cesare Damiano was inevitable.

She found him as usual in the walled garden among his beloved roses, a tall man with iron-grey hair, treading slowly along the graveled walks, his gold-rimmed glasses on his nose as he scanned the beds for signs of disease or pests.

As Ellie reached him, he turned from his scrutiny of a magnificent display of blooms so deeply crimson they seemed almost black.

‘The Toscana,’ he said meditatively. ‘As beautiful as when it was first grown here six hundred years ago. It gives one a sense of stability—of the rightness of things. Do you not think so, Elena?’

‘Yes, Your Highness.’

He studied her gravely. ‘Your godmother tells me that you and Count Manzini wish to be married, my child.’

That, thought Ellie, startled, is the last thing either of us wants.

Aloud, she said hesitantly, ‘We—we have agreed to become engaged, sir.’

He pursed his lips. ‘An engagement is a solemn promise and, in this case, made not before time, according to what my wife has told me.’ He sighed. ‘And while I deplore the way your courtship has been conducted, I believe I must give you both my blessing.

‘I have spoken to Count Manzini,’ he went on more briskly. ‘And he has assured me there will be no more unseemly incidents before the ceremony. Nevertheless, young blood runs hot, and the Principessa and I agree that you should at once take up residence in our house in Rome, and be married from there. That should remove temptation and at the same time dispel any unfortunate rumours.’ He allowed himself a faint smile. ‘I shall allow myself the privilege of giving you away, my dear child.’

The world seemed to recede to some far distance. She was aware of the sun beating down on her head, and the hum of bees. And from somewhere, her voice saying hoarsely, pleadingly, ‘But there’s no need for so much hurry—surely.’

The austere look returned. ‘I hope not indeed. But at the same time there is also no reason to delay.’ He glanced past her. ‘As I am sure your fidanzato will wish to assure you.’

Ellie turned apprehensively to see Angelo Manzini approaching unhurriedly down the path.

Prince Damiano patted her shoulder. ‘I will leave you together. But first—this.’ He reached out and picked a long-stemmed red rose from a nearby bush. ‘A flower for lovers,’ he said, handing it to her, then, bowing slightly, walked off towards the house.

She watched him go, almost in despair, then turned to face Angelo, her slim body rigid, her eyes blazing accusation.

‘You seem disturbed, mia bella,’ he commented coolly as he reached her.

‘I’ll say I’m disturbed,’ she said shakily. ‘This engagement is quite bad enough, but they seem to be planning our wedding as well. What the hell is going on?’ She drew a breath then added furiously, ‘And I’m neither yours, nor am I—beautiful.’

‘Not when you are glaring at me, perhaps. And your choice of clothing hardly does you justice either.’ He paused. ‘But you have possibilities, as I observed last night when you were wearing no clothes at all.’

For a moment she was lost for words, then she said chokingly, ‘How—how dare you?’

He shrugged. ‘You chose to turn on the lamp. And I am not blind.’

‘No,’ she said fiercely. ‘And you also have the power of speech, so go back to the house right now and tell them it’s all off. That I’ve turned you down.’

‘That would be foolish,’ he returned unmoved. ‘Particularly as we have the Prince’s approval—in addition to our other well-wishers.’

‘What do you mean?’ Ellie demanded huskily.

His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘Come, signorina. You cannot be that naïve. Or that stupid. You must know that Silvia is not the only conspirator at Largossa this weekend.’

She said, ‘And I tell you that I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Now will you do as I ask?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Because it would solve nothing. Infatti, it would simply make matters infinitely worse. I have already explained to you why I need the Prince’s goodwill. Can you afford to have it withdrawn? You are fond of your madrina, I think. Do you really wish to be barred from her house and denied her affection? Because that would follow.

‘More than that,’ he added grimly. ‘How will you like being known as my discarded lover? Is that the kind of notoriety you desire? And do you truly want your cousin to enjoy her unpleasant victory and laugh at us both? Because I do not.’

‘But—marriage.’ She pronounced the word with something like revulsion.

‘Grazie,’ Angelo returned coldly. ‘However, I have no more wish than you to put my head in that noose. For the moment, there will be an engagement only.’ He paused. ‘But engagements can be easily broken. It happens every day. We have only to choose some convenient moment.’ His mouth curled. ‘And I will make certain that the fault is mine. Some flagrant act of infidelity, perhaps, to make the world think you have had a fortunate escape.’

Ellie took a breath. ‘Count Manzini, you have the morals of an alley cat.’

‘While you, signorina, have the tongue of a shrew. Shall we agree that we are neither of us perfect? Nel frattempo, in the meantime, I offer you this.’ He produced a small velvet-covered box from his pocket and opened it.

Ellie looked down at the square antique sapphire set amidst a blaze of diamonds and swallowed.

‘I—I can’t wear that.’

‘You are allergic to precious stones?’ He sounded mildly interested.

It would have been childishly rude to retort, ‘No, only to you,’ so she refrained.

‘I simply couldn’t accept anything as valuable,’ Ellie said, and frowned. ‘How come you’re carrying something that expensive around anyway?’

‘It belongs to my grandmother,’ he said. ‘She promised that when I planned to marry, she would allow me to choose a ring from her collection for my fidanzata. I picked this one.’

‘But you did not pick me,’ Ellie said. ‘And you have no plans to marry—anyone. As the Contessa knows perfectly well. So this is sheer hypocrisy.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘It is part of our agreement. Now give me your hand.’ He met her defiant eyes, and added, ‘Per favore.’

She stood in silent reluctance as he slid the ring over her knuckle. She wore little jewellery at the best of times and none at all on her hands, and it felt heavy—even alien.

She was still holding the rose that the Prince had given her, and its fragrance, exquisitely sweet and sensuous, drifted upwards in potent contrast to the bleakness of the moment.

‘Do you have any further instructions for me?’ she asked bitterly.

‘Instructions, no,’ he said. ‘But perhaps—a suggestion.’ And took her in his arms. For a moment, sheer astonishment held her still as his lips plundered hers in a hard, draining kiss without tenderness or, she recognised with shock, any real desire.

Then, as she began to resist, he let her go. He said softly, ‘Your mouth is the colour of that rose, mia bella. At last you look as if you know a lover’s touch. So, now let us do what we must.’

CHAPTER FOUR

AFTERWARDS, IT WAS the faces she remembered. The Contessa, impassive; her godmother beaming but with anxious eyes; Signor Barzado trying to hide his astonishment and his wife her disappointment that a potential scandal had been overtaken and diluted by convention; the Cipriantos, astonished too but pleased.

And above all Silvia, seated beside her clearly bemused husband, her lips stretched in a smile, but her eyes burning with anger as Prince Damiano made the announcement with grave pleasure, and Angelo took Ellie’s hand, glowing with the blue fire of his sapphire, and raised it formally to his lips.

The lunch had been sumptuous, but she’d eaten like an automaton, hardly tasting a mouthful. Then there’d been the toasts to be got through, her mouth aching in an effort to smile and acknowledge the good wishes, whatever their level of sincerity.

Standing rigidly to receive Silvia’s air kiss on both cheeks, then watching her turn to Angelo with the husky murmur, ‘Congratulations, mio caro. How truly clever you are.’