The door opened and Luke came in with a tray. ‘Good morning, sleepyhead. I thought it would speed things up if I brought your breakfast.’
‘Goodness! This is incredibly civil of you.’ Saskia blinked at him owlishly, pushing the hair back from her forehead. ‘I’d forgotten how bright and breezy you are in the mornings, Lucius Armytage.’
Luke set the tray down on the table beside her, thrust a couple of pillows behind her, then poured coffee. ‘Was that another of your reasons for hating me?’ he asked, and handed the cup to her once she’d propped herself up.
She sipped the coffee with relish. ‘Who could hate a man who makes coffee like this?’
He bowed theatrically. ‘Then my effort wasn’t in vain. Don’t be too long. Parking in Florence can take patience, so we’d better be off soon if we’re to hunt down this dress of yours.’
Saskia buttered a roll, eyeing him doubtfully. ‘Are you sure you want to do this? Most men run a mile at the thought of shopping.’
‘So do I, generally.’ He went to the door, and turned to look at her. ‘But just this once I’ll make an exception.’
‘Thank you, kind sir. Thank you for breakfast, too,’ she added belatedly. ‘I didn’t get to sleep too quickly last night, which is why I overslept.’
‘Mourning for your lost love?’
‘No. Congratulating myself on a lucky escape.’
Twenty minutes later Saskia joined Luke outside on the terrace, dressed in fawn linen trousers and an ivory silk shirt, a matching linen jacket over her arm.
Since Luke was wearing a jacket in much the same shade, the similarity in their looks was even more pronounced than usual.
‘We look like twins,’ she said, pulling a face.
‘Do you mind?’
‘Not really.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Tell me what you’re wearing to this party, and I’ll look for a dress to match.’
‘Good idea,’ he said evenly. ‘Then everyone will know we belong together.’
‘I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun, Luke.’
‘You won’t,’ he assured her. ‘So, come on, let’s get going. The shops close at one, remember, and don’t open again until late afternoon.’
Once on the autostrada the Alfa-Romeo ate up the miles to Florence with ease, and when they reached the city Luke was lucky enough to find a space in the underground car park at the Santa Maria Novella station.
‘Right then, Sassy,’ he said as they emerged into the noise and bustle of Florence in the crisp, cool-edged sunshine. ‘From here on we walk.’
‘Not much of a hardship in Florence,’ she assured him. ‘Nowhere’s much more than ten minutes away from anywhere else.’ She grasped his arm and held up a foot. ‘And, as you can see, I’m wearing smart, flat Italian shoes.’
‘Well polished, just like mine,’ said Luke with approval. “They think a lot of their footwear in this part of the world.’
Saskia nodded, feeling suddenly very happy. The crowded, medieval streets of Florence were an aesthetic delight, as usual, the sun was shining and she was strolling along beside a man who was, she decided secretly, a lot more attractive than the majority of men they passed on their way to the Ponte Vecchio. On the famous thronged bridge Luke led her past the jewellers with their fabulous wares to a shop selling silk ties.
‘I’ll treat myself to a new one for Tom’s party,’ he said, pausing to look in the window. ‘Which do you fancy?’
Having established that Luke’s suit was a pale biscuit shade, Saskia went inside with him to inspect the enormous selection on offer, and eventually, after much conferring, they emerged with a handsome tie in woven cinnamon silk embossed with striking gilt fleurs-de-lys.
‘Right. Your turn,’ said Luke. ‘I assume you know where to look?’
‘I certainly do.’ Saskia knew from past experience that the best window shopping in Italy could be done in the Via della Vigna Nuova and the Via de’ Tornabuoni, where some of the most famous names in fashion had shops which glowed like jewels in the ancient buildings which formed their setting.
Saskia gazed at length at the offerings in Armani, Valentino and Gucci, the shoes in Ferragamo, but steered Luke firmly away to names less well known, where she hoped the prices might be less astronomical.
‘The really pricey stuff will only be to order anyway,’
he reminded her. ‘So find something ready to wear that you like, and choose a style and colour you won’t grow tired of too quickly.’
Saskia looked up at him in amusement. ‘You’re very knowledgeable on the subject, Lucius Armytage!’
He grinned. ‘I came here with Marina once, when she managed to leave Dad and the boys at the villa and skive off for a morning with me. She was perfectly happy just gazing in shop windows, instead of the more cultural stuff Dad likes. Your lady mother knows a lot about clothes.’
Saskia nodded, pulling a face. ‘She wasn’t so surprised by our truce she forgot I’d brought nothing suitable for a party.’
Eventually Luke said firmly that window shopping was over and a stab at the real thing was necessary if they were going to find a dress before lunch. ‘If not, we’ll have to linger over our meal until about three-thirty when these places open their doors again.’
‘By which time I would need a bigger size,’ she said, laughing. ‘All right. You choose, Luke. Which one shall we try first?’
After a couple of unsuccessful sorties, where they were shown once-seen, never-forgotten creations, Luke steered her towards Valentino, where Saskia found two dresses she liked so much she asked Luke to choose.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve been caught like that before, with Zoë. If I choose one, you’ll have regrets about the other one.’
‘I,’ said Saskia astringently, ‘am not Zoë.’
‘Very true. So go and try them on and see which one feels most like you.’
Much as she loved the brief little shift in the famous Valentino red, Saskia chose a flirty little slip dress in black silk chiffon with shoulder straps of gilt satin. It was knee-skimming, flattering and so dateless that with luck, Saskia told herself, she could wear it for the next ten years. And although it was expensive she could well afford to pay Luke back for it, provided she stayed on at the bank for a while before seeking pastures new.
‘You didn’t model it for me,’ said Luke when they were outside in the midday sunshine.
Saskia had felt oddly shy about showing herself off in the dress. ‘You can see it tomorrow night when I’ve done my hair and I’m wearing the right shoes.’ She smiled at him coaxingly. ‘Would you mind staying on here until the shops open again, Luke? Cinderella needs slippers. And this time—forgive the pun—she insists on footing the bill.’
‘Done. Where do you want to eat lunch? Any preferences?’
‘One of the outside tables at the Rivoire in the Piazza della Signoria, if possible, please. I love watching the world go by.’
Lucius Armytage was one of that breed of men for whom waiters flock and a table always becomes free—something which had, in the past, featured on the list of things that Saskia resented about him. Now, as a waiter in a white jacket led them to the best possible table for eating, viewing and protection from over-friendly pigeons, it was a feature of the Armytage charm she found very agreeable. Francis had always made a big thing of snapping fingers and demanding attention, but with Luke it was unnecessary.
‘This do you?’ he asked casually as he held her chair for her.
‘Perfect. Now I can look at the statues of Neptune and company, do my people-watching and eat all at the same time.’ Saskia looked him in the eye as he settled himself opposite her. ‘Luke, thank you for my dress. I shall pay you back in London, I promise.’
‘We’ll see,’ he said noncommittally as a waiter materialised at his elbow with bottles of mineral water. ‘Now, then, Sassy, what would you like to eat?’
She opted for pasta with meat sauce, but Luke chose Bistecca alla Fiorentina, the wonderful local
steak, seasoned with oil and herbs and grilled over an open fire. ‘I’ll be good and order a salad if you’ll share it with me,’ he offered.
In the end they shared everything, Saskia trading some of her pasta for a piece of steak, and Luke asking for an extra spoon so he could eat some of the inevitable tiramisu Saskia chose for pudding.
‘I have to eat tiramisu once while I’m here,’ she declared, scraping the last of it from the dish. ‘And this is gorgeous—nothing like the stuff they sell in the supermarket near my flat. The tomatoes were so wonderful too. Are they grown with special fertiliser here, or something?’
‘Yes,’ said Luke, deadpan. ‘It’s called sunshine.’
She giggled, then bit her lip, eyeing her empty wine glass. ‘Maybe that second glass was a mistake. I’m getting all girly.’
‘Someone had to drink it. The driver was forced to keep to one.’
‘Poor you.’ Saskia leaned back in her chair with a sigh of contentment, gazing at the colourful passing show with its backdrop of medieval buildings. ‘On a day like this I’m always convinced I could live here for ever. Then I think of it sizzling in August and being bitterly cold in winter, and I fly back reluctantly to my London nest.’
‘You must come and see mine. The new house, I
mean. Not,’ he added wryly, ‘that there’s much new about it for the time being. Are you any good at interior decorating?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never tried. Mine’s a furnished flat. Why?’ She looked at him enquiringly. ‘Would you like some help?’
‘Would you give it?’
‘Yes. If you’d like me to.’ She frowned. ‘That’s a very funny look in your eyes, Luke.’
‘I just find it hard to believe, now and then, that this is the same Saskia Ford who once couldn’t manage a civil word for me,’ he said bluntly.
‘People change,’ she said evasively. ‘And we’ve never really spent any time together before.’
‘True. Maybe if we had you might have thawed sooner.’
‘Did it bother you?’ she asked curiously. ‘That I was so unfriendly, I mean?’
Luke gave her a very straight look. ‘To be honest, not very much, Saskia. I can’t say I was cut to the quick because the renowned Armytage charm failed to work on a teenaged stepsister.’
‘It’s a long time since I was a teenager,’ she murmured, looking away across the thronged piazza.
‘Ten years since we met, I know. But keeping out of your way became a habit early on, just to make things easier for our respective parents.’ He reached across and touched her hand. ‘So in a way I’m rather grateful for Lawford’s fall from grace. It’s given us a chance to find out we don’t dislike each other very much after all.’
Saskia smiled at him mischievously. ‘Early days, yet, Armytage.’
‘I think we’ll manage to keep to the ceasefire.’ He looked up, and, as always, a waiter appeared instantly to take Luke’s order for coffee.
When they decided that comfortable though they were they could linger no longer, they went off in search of shoes. Luke fancied some wildly impractical gilt sandals with fragile straps and spike heels, but Saskia shook her head, laughing, and chose elegantly cut black suede pumps with heels which would let her dance all night if necessary.
‘Will there be dancing?’ she asked afterwards.
‘No idea. Probably. Tom and Lauren give great parties.’
‘You’ve been to one before?’
‘I certainly have.’
Saskia stopped suddenly, to the danger of several passers-by. ‘Luke—I won’t be overdressed, will I?’
‘No.’ He smiled down at her, and took her arm. ‘Besides, even if the other women turn up in designer jeans, you just make ‘em feel they’re the ones out of step.’
‘I’m supposed to be reassured?’ she retorted, laughing.
‘Of course you are. Let’s buy some food to take home. Fancy a spit-roasted chicken?’
When they got back to the villa they found it gleaming and immaculate from Serafina’s attentions. After the food was put away and the new dress hung with reverence in Saskia’s wardrobe, she went to the kitchen to make tea, and took it out on the terrace where Luke was reading The Times newspaper he’d bought in Florence.
‘I’m tired,’ she said, subsiding on the sofa. ‘Enjoying oneself is quite exhausting.’
‘So you did enjoy today, then,’ he said, the smile lifting one side of his mouth.
‘A day in Florence, new dress and shoes, a delicious lunch in the open air—and good company,’ she added deliberately, pouring tea. ‘How could I not enjoy it?’
‘Are you always so appreciative when someone buys you a dress?’ he enquired, stretching out a hand for his cup.
‘Oh, yes. Ask my mother. She’s the only other person who ever has,’ she said tartly.
‘Put your claws in, Sassy,’ he said, unmoved.
She sniffed. ‘Did you buy clothes for Zoë?’
‘Oddly enough, no. I’ve never bought a dress for anyone before. You’re the first’
‘And the last, too, I imagine, at prices like that.’ She looked at him in sudden alarm. ‘What if someone drops cigarette ash on me, or spills wine?’
‘Then they do, you muggins. It’s only a dress.’
‘It’s such a beautiful dress, though,’ she said, her eyes gleaming. ‘I feel quite wonderful in it’
‘I look forward to seeing you in it.’ Luke glanced at the rapidly darkening sky. ‘What do you want to do tonight? Fancy trying the trattoria in the village?’
Saskia shook her head. ‘I’m not stirring another step. And tonight, Lucius Armytage, you can eat the chicken you bought, and I shall dine very frugally indeed, If I go on eating like this I shan’t be able to zip the dress up, and that would be a tragedy.’
Luke stretched luxuriously. ‘I can’t say I’m sorry. A peaceful evening is probably a good idea to get in trim for tomorrow night.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘You obviously haven’t hired a car, Saskia, so how did you intend getting around on your own? Surely you weren’t intending to hole up here for your entire stay?’
‘Of course not. I would have asked Serafina’s Carlo to give me a lift to the station and caught a train, used taxis and so on. But I hadn’t felt like making the effort before you arrived.’ She yawned. ‘Tonight I’m going to bed early with a book, and tomorrow I’m just going to laze about all day until it’s party time.’
‘Good plan. If you’ve no objection I’ll do likewise.’ Her eyes flew to meet his at the guarded note in his voice.
‘None at all,’ she assured him, and grinned. ‘Is this really us, Luke?’
His eyes danced. ‘Hard to believe sometimes, but, yes, it’s really us, and so far no bruises to show for it.’
The Harleys’ villa was in the heart of the Chianti winegrowing area. Instead of taking the autostrada Luke drove along the Chiantigiana, the winding road which led through an endless vista of vineyards until they left it for the narrow track which wound itself up to the floodlit Villa Violetta. Ancient and beautiful, its rosecoloured colonnades reflected in the pool which had been so carefully constructed to blend with the villa’s antiquity, it looked almost unreal, like a backdrop for one of the plays Shakespeare had set in Italy.
‘Goodness,’ said Saskia in awe as Luke parked the Alfa-Romeo among the expensive cars already there. Music was playing and laughter floated on the air, and Luke turned to her with a smile.
‘Well, little sister. We’re here.’
‘I should have arrived in a fairy coach,’ said Saskia, her smile as crooked as his. ‘Will I do, Luke? Really?’
Luke had put the hood up on the car for the drive, in deference to Saskia’s hair, and in the small, confined space his eyes gave her a long, leisurely scrutiny from the burnished, gold-tipped hair, down over the face she’d taken such care with, to the bare, tanned shoulders above the black chiffon, then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘You look ravishing, Sassy.’
Luke helped her from the car with ceremony, his lips twitching at the generous length of black silk leg Saskia couldn’t avoid displaying before he pulled her to her feet.
‘This underslip thing is a bit narrow for getting out of cars like this,’ she muttered, her face hot.
‘Next time I’ll bring the Rolls,’ he promised. ‘Come on, Cinderella. Time to meet our hosts.’
Any fears Saskia might have had about being overdressed vanished at the sight of Lauren Harley, who was a long-stemmed American beauty sheathed in white satin which left one tanned shoulder bare.
‘Armani,’ whispered Saskia, and Luke grinned as he took her hand and led her to join the knot of people clustered round their hosts. The rest of the guests were distributed around the pool, highlighted by lamps placed to great effect among the shrubs and trees.
Tom Harley was very tall, with fair hair bleached by the Californian sun. As he caught sight of the new arrivals his tanned face lit with a wide white grin and he came loping towards them, arms outstretched, to give Luke an affectionate hug.
‘Luke, old buddy, great to see you,’ he cried, clapping him on the shoulder.
‘Likewise, Tom,’ said Luke, smiling. ‘Saskia, this is our host. Tom, meet my little sister.’
Tom took Saskia’s hand, his face blank for a moment, then his eyes narrowed at Luke. ‘That Brit sense of humour again?’ He grinned down into Saskia’s face. ‘We had cola and cookies waiting for you, honey. We thought Luke was bringing a baby, not a babe.’
Saskia laughed, and shook the American’s large hand. ‘Luke likes his little joke. I hope I’m not a disappointment.’
‘Anything but, Saskia. Great name. Come and meet Lauren and the others. You know most people, Luke,’ he said over his shoulder, and put an arm round Saskia’s waist. ‘I’ll introduce the little sister.’
Lauren Harley was as warm and welcoming as her husband, teasing Luke for his little deception as he kissed her. She beckoned to a waiter to bring a tray of drinks.
A Rumoured Engagement Page 6