‘We do not all believe the superstitions,’ he said. ‘We must make our own luck.’
Somehow, as Kate watched him, she got the impression that he went through life doing just that, and not always caring about any possible consequences. In the same way that Alessandro was a man who knew who he was and what he wanted, Donato was too, but whereas Alessandro’s moral code was straight black and white, Kate couldn’t help but feel that Donato’s might be rather more greyed in the wash.
For an awkward five seconds or so they lapsed into silence. Just as Kate was about to make some banal comment about being peckish – not because she was but because she needed to fill the gap – Signora Conti motioned for Maria to collect her son from the old lady’s lap.
Then she nodded across to where Gian’s father stood making an announcement. From what Kate could tell, he was informing the guests it was time to leave for the reception venue. Saved by the bell.
With a stiff smile to Maria, Donato and Signora Conti, she got up to look for Alessandro.
The villa on the slopes of one of Rome’s seven famous hills was the most perfect reception venue that Kate could imagine. The pristine white walls were like sugar decorations, giving the house the air of a giant wedding cake, and a sweeping staircase at the main gates led to an elaborately tiled portico with arches that ran the length of the house. Emerald grass, palm trees and lush tropical flowers skirted the building, making the garden a mass of singing colour, the air filled with an array of exotic scents to bewitch the senses. The open marquee on the back lawns overlooked the splendour of the city, and at night was illuminated by strings of lanterns, their light glinting from row upon row of sparkling glass and silverware. It was early November, and the evenings were cooler now, but lines of heaters bordered the tent so that everyone would be warm and comfortable no matter how long the party lasted or how the night frosted the gardens over. As the guests arrived another string quartet played them in, and the villa staff beckoned them to line a path formed of floral-decked plinths, down which the newly married couple would be paraded when they arrived for everyone to greet them.
One thing was for certain, Lucetta’s wedding photos were going to be incredible, but Kate couldn’t help dwelling on the fact that her mother must be very broke indeed if she’d had to stump up for all of this. Alessandro had once said that his mother was too proud to accept any help from her other children, and had somehow always managed to pay for the weddings of her married daughters, but Kate was sure, nonetheless, that Alessandro must have had a hand in helping with the costs of at least this one, if not of the others. Looking around, it was clear there was no way Signora Conti could have afforded such opulent surroundings unless she was a secret gangland boss, and that was without adding the dress, flowers or food into the equation. It was no wonder she was feeling the strain of it all. If Kate had known them to be a less traditional family, she might have supposed that Gian or his family had pitched in, but knowing Signora Conti that would never have been allowed. It had to be Alessandro, and it was just like him to deny any involvement and ask for no thanks.
He squeezed her hand and looked down at her with a reassuring smile as they lined up to greet the newlyweds. She was glad to have him by her side, because the sheer number of people she didn’t know now standing around her was daunting, and for much of the day he’d had other duties to perform that meant she hadn’t been able to cling on to him. The numbers had swelled, even from the huge audience at Santa Maria, and Kate couldn’t imagine how Lucetta and Gian knew so many people. They were certainly a popular couple if this was anything to go by.
The early evening was fresh already, the gentle sun of the day giving way to a cool November night. Kate shivered briefly as a breeze rattled through the palm trees, but when she thought about the temperature back in England right now, it didn’t feel so bad. At home she’d have been swaddled in her duffel coat and woolly hat instead of in an evening gown and light wrap, but then nobody would have been having a wedding reception outside at this time of year. It was close to Bonfire Night, and perhaps she would have been watching a firework display tonight, hot dog in her hand as the lights popped and exploded above her, the tang of burnt gunpowder on the air transporting her back to childhood.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Alessandro asked.
‘Hmmm?’
‘You are quiet.’
She smiled. ‘I’m often quiet.’
‘You are tired?’
She shook her head. ‘Of course not; it’s far too exciting a day to be tired yet.’
‘Good. We will dance until the morning comes.’
‘We will? In that case I’m really tired.’
‘Dancing is easy.’
‘Jumping about to music is easy, but not everybody would call it dancing. Dancing that actually looks like dancing might not be as easy as you think, and certainly doesn’t come naturally to me.’
‘I will lead, and you will soon learn.’
‘These are traditional Italian wedding dances? So everyone will know them really well and will know straightaway if I’m doing the steps wrong?’
‘They will not care; they know you are not Italian.’
‘Well that makes me feel better,’ she replied wryly.
‘Nobody here would know any of your traditional English wedding dances, so you are the same.’
‘Yeah, but the hokey-cokey isn’t complicated as traditional wedding dances go; I mean, the instructions are practically in the song as you go along, so. . .’
He gave a tiny frown, that look he gave her when he was trying to follow something that he felt he ought to be able to follow, while in reality he had no hope of knowing what she was talking about.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she laughed. ‘When Lily gets married to Joel you’ll find out. Not that they’ve even got close to setting a date yet and goodness knows how long that will take them.’ She paused, the smile slipping from her face. ‘That’s assuming you’ll come with me to England for that,’ she added. ‘I mean, I don’t want to take for granted that you’ll want to. . . you might not, and that would be completely OK, of course. Not that we need to worry about it just yet. . .’ She was aware that she was babbling. It had been a frequent characteristic of their earliest conversations, but as she’d got used to being around Alessandro it had lessened. Sometimes, at moments like these when she felt uncertain of herself again, and of their relationship, the babbling returned.
‘Of course.’ He smiled. ‘It would be my honour.’
Kate relaxed. Another characteristic of their early relationship was that as often as she babbled, he would instantly put her at ease with a warm smile and a look that reassured her of his love. Somehow, he always sensed what she was feeling, and his response was always just right.
They were interrupted by a call for the attention of the guests. At least, that’s what Kate thought it was as everyone stopped talking and an expectant hush fell over the crowd. Lucetta and Gian were introduced for the first time as husband and wife, and enthusiastic applause followed as they appeared from the main house and made their way, arm in arm, to the path lined with guests that led to the tent where dinner would be served. They were both beaming, thanking people as they passed through, receiving pats on the back, kisses and hugs along the way from those too enthusiastic to wait for a chance later. Kate contented herself with a smile, suddenly too shy to make any show of affection in front of the whole of the wedding party, and Lucetta gave her an understanding smile in return. It was strange, Kate reflected vaguely, how they were becoming almost as close as real sisters, and it had happened in such a short time. It was hard to know just how much testing their friendship would stand, but Kate liked to think it might be quite a lot.
Once Lucetta and Gian had been welcomed, the part of the evening that Kate had been dreading arrived. Perhaps dreading was too strong a word, but she was certainly aware of the opportunity to look very stupid indeed. The newlyweds took to the gleaming parquet dance
floor first. Their dance was a traditional one, Gian sweeping Lucetta across the floor with ease, the pair of them as graceful as swans on a lake. As the next song played, it was the turn of the wedding party to join them, and Alessandro led Kate to the floor.
‘Do not worry,’ he said. ‘I will lead and nobody will notice.’
As Kate stumbled and second-guessed, Alessandro laughed warmly – not at her but with her.
‘Everyone thinks you look lovely,’ he said.
‘You’re such a bad liar,’ Kate replied, trying, but failing, to frown with disapproval.
The steps were simple, and towards the mid-section of the song Kate was beginning to master them. But even as she started to enjoy herself, she could see Maria dancing with her husband a few feet away, paying him and the steps no heed but firmly fixed on glaring at Kate. If Kate had hoped to use tonight’s occasion to soften her, the outlook didn’t appear to be promising. It didn’t help her feel any better when they spun around and swapped positions so that Donato was now eyeing her up in the most disconcerting way, and she was certain once again that his mental scoreboard was totting up her particulars. He threw her a glib smile and Kate hurriedly looked away. Her loss of concentration made her tread on Alessandro’s foot, and as she apologised, blushing, her eye caught Orazia, now sitting with the guests yet to dance, her scarlet-painted lips drawn so tight they were in danger of disappearing into her face as she watched Kate and Alessandro. He dipped into a light kiss and laughingly told her not to worry, and Kate’s gaze was involuntarily drawn back across the room, where Orazia’s expression darkened even further. Kate suspected that if there hadn’t been a tent full of witnesses, Orazia might have taken up a fish knife and launched herself at her.
There was a sense of relief when the song ended, and the rest of the guests were invited to dance, until Kate realised that Orazia would not have a partner, and it didn’t take a genius to work out where she’d be heading. But even as Kate watched her march across, almost barging the other guests aside in a bid to reach Alessandro before anyone else, another figure cut across their path, and Kate found herself staring into the remarkably pretty face of a woman she hadn’t met before.
‘May I?’ she asked Kate sweetly. If your idea of sweet was the witch in the gingerbread house just before she shoved Hansel and Gretel in the oven, Kate thought.
Caught off guard and totally flustered, Kate gave a meek nod, then watched helplessly as Alessandro was whirled off. He didn’t even look upset that he’d been separated from Kate, and in fact he smiled warmly at the woman. The sight of it made Kate’s heart heavy, despite chastising herself severely for being so ridiculously paranoid. Irritated at her own stupidity, she was making her way back to her seat when there was a tap on her shoulder. She spun round to find Marco looking almost grave.
‘You have no partner.’ It was a statement rather than a question, because she supposed that much was obvious.
‘It seems like it.’
‘He will not dance with the others for long. Dance with me until he is finished?’
Kate wondered whether she might prefer to sit down, given her lack of dancing finesse, but she felt it rude to refuse Marco and she didn’t want to offend him. ‘Thank you,’ she said and took his arm as he led her back on.
His dancing was stiffer, less natural than Alessandro’s, but he knew his steps well. ‘This foot here. . .’ he instructed. ‘Left foot back. . . right foot side. . . left foot forward. . .’ he continued, until Kate’s confidence increased and she could look him in the face as they danced rather than at her feet.
‘Who is that dancing with Alessandro?’ Kate asked.
‘You think she is beautiful, no?’ Marco asked, giving a vague nod behind him to where Alessandro danced with the unknown woman.
‘Yes,’ Kate said. ‘I would imagine everyone here thinks so.’
He lowered his voice. ‘Plastic surgery,’ he whispered with a wicked grin.
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
Kate was thoughtful for a moment. The woman’s hair was a rich auburn, swept up into a loose bun, but it didn’t match her almost black eyebrows and dark eyes, though it still suited her. ‘Plastic surgery or not, she’s still lovely.’
‘She is not married.’
‘Isn’t she?’ Kate asked, wondering why he was telling her this.
‘Why do you think this is?’
‘I don’t know. Who is she?’
‘Federigo Valvona’s daughter, Cara.’
Suddenly, it all made sense. Kate had to assume this was the same woman Signora Conti had been trying to match Alessandro with before Kate had come back to Rome for good (the one matchmaking choice Lucetta had decided she didn’t like because of a passing comment Cara had once made about the size of her nose). Alessandro hadn’t been interested. At least that was what he’d said to Kate. As she watched them dance now, they looked at ease with each other. He was chatting as they danced, and every so often she would throw her head back and laugh at some quip he’d made.
‘The Valvonas are old family friends,’ Marco continued.
‘I guessed that,’ Kate replied, trying to tear her gaze away from them to give Marco her full attention. For some reason she was finding it very hard. As if life wasn’t difficult with Orazia on the scene, she now had two gorgeous women to worry about, both of whom were infinitely more suited to Alessandro in the eyes of Signora Conti.
‘But you have not answered my question,’ Marco said.
Kate turned to him. ‘What question was that?’
‘Cara is twenty-nine, and she is not married.’
‘I don’t think twenty-nine is all that old to be single. I’m thirty and I’m single.’
‘Perhaps not in your family. With the Valvonas. . . maybe a little. Federigo wants Cara to find a husband as much as Giuditta wants Alessandro to find a wife. A perfect match, no?’
‘Alessandro’s not interested in her, though,’ Kate said, unconvinced by the statement even as she made it. She glanced across to where they were laughing again, his hand resting on the small of her svelte back, his other on her shoulder, their graceful movements perfectly in sync. She moved like a professional dancer and she looked incredible. How could anyone fail to be interested in her? ‘He told me so.’
‘No, he is not. And she is not interested in him.’ He lowered his voice again and his eyes had that mischief, that gentle mocking that Kate had seen in Alessandro’s so many times. At that moment she could really see the family resemblance. ‘She is interested in the women.’
Kate’s gaze turned sharply back to him. ‘She is?’
He nodded. ‘It makes you happy, no, to hear this?’
‘And this is true?’
His expression was even more wicked, more playful. Kate was beginning to think that she liked him a lot. ‘You should ask Abelie.’
Kate’s eyes grew. ‘Abelie? She didn’t. . .?’
‘No.’ He laughed. ‘Abelie wants a husband. But poor Federigo does not know his daughter wants a wife. Only Abelie and I know this secret. But I am telling you because I see you worry. She is dancing with Alessandro but you do not need to be afraid. They are old friends, and they know each other well, and that is why she wanted to dance with him. But I think she would rather dance with his sister.’
‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Kate said, suddenly feeling sorry for Cara, having to carry this burden and keep it secret from her family. But then she looked relaxed and confident, and perfectly happy with herself. Maybe she was OK with leading a double life, and perhaps she had a lovely little circle of friends tucked away who shared her secrets, people to love and laugh with away from her overbearing family.
‘Orazia, however. . .’ Marco clicked his tongue and Kate’s gaze went across to where she was dancing with an elderly man and looking very unhappy about it. She was flinging him around so violently to the music that it almost looked comical. But the old man didn’t seem to mind, a benign smile stretching his face as s
he whirled him around and glared at Alessandro and Cara, and then at Marco and Kate, in turn. But perhaps that had something to do with the fact that the old fella’s face was directly in line with Orazia’s magnificent bosom, and it was probably the most excited he had been for a good many years. Kate only hoped that the sight didn’t finish him off, because there was nothing quite like a death to put a damper on a wedding reception.
‘I know,’ Kate said. ‘She’s made her intentions very clear. But Alessandro says he isn’t interested in her either.’
‘Still, you should be careful.’
Kate was silent for a moment as she mused on his words. Such a simple sentence, and yet loaded with meaning. She didn’t know what Orazia could do to change things, but she couldn’t help feeling that Marco’s warning was an astute one.
‘Do you know much about her?’ she asked.
‘She is not as nice as she pretends.’
‘Well, if that’s her pretending to be nice,’ Kate laughed, ‘she must be absolutely awful!’
‘She will do anything to get what she wants. The same always, since a little girl. The doll, winning the race, the job, the man . . . whatever she wants she will have.’
‘Thank you,’ Kate said, giving him a grateful smile. ‘I’ll watch out for her.’
As the song came to an end, Marco gave Kate a little bow. She scanned the room, to see Alessandro making his way over. Orazia was in his wake, but Marco darted from Kate’s side and accosted her. She saw Orazia nod, a sour expression barely masked by a cold smile. Marco threw Kate a quick wink as the music started up again and Alessandro hooked his arms around Kate’s waist.
‘Mysterious lady,’ he said, a playful smile on his lips. ‘Would you dance with me?’
‘I would love to, handsome stranger,’ Kate replied, breaking into a broad smile, and for once, as she glanced across at Orazia dancing with Marco, she felt like the winner.
The feeling didn’t last long. The very next song saw Orazia steal her prize, and Alessandro was whisked from beneath Kate’s nose, leaving her to dance with Isabella’s husband, who was a good dancer, but whose dexterity hardly compared to Alessandro or Marco. When she looked again, they were no longer dancing but involved in an animated discussion in a corner of the tent. Kate frowned as she craned to keep watch, but with the rest of the dancers moving so fast, in and out of her line of vision, she could barely get a handle on what was going on before they returned to the floor and continued as if nothing had happened at all. What the hell was that about? Then again, was it something she wanted to know? Perhaps she was better off in blissful ignorance.
A Wedding in Italy: A feel good summer holiday romance (From Italy with Love Book 2) Page 6