‘Good. Good.’ He nodded his satisfaction. His hands were resting on the top of his ebony walking cane which he carried, Portia suspected, more for effect than practical purposes. ‘And your parents arrive when? I am looking forward to meeting them.’
‘The day after tomorrow, two days before the wedding.’ As he knew very well! Did he, too, keep going over the details just to convince himself it was all really happening? She was looking forward to seeing her parents again, even though her mother’s reaction when Portia had phoned hadn’t been flattering.
‘Why?’ she had asked after a stunned silence. ‘Why on earth would a man like him marry a girl like you?’
‘My son returns this evening,’ Eduardo remarked as Portia pondered her mother’s habit of cutting her down to size. ‘He works far too hard. You must try to curb that tendency when you are married.’
‘Lucenzo will do what Lucenzo wants to do,’ she answered lightly, to cover the nagging little worry that kept plaguing her.
She had seen nothing of him for the past three weeks. He was away on business and she missed him so badly she sometimes didn’t know what to do with herself. He phoned her each evening, but that was just for the sake of appearances.
If long and frequent absences were to be the pattern of their future life—growing longer and more frequent as the sexual chemistry wore off for him—she didn’t know if she’d be strong enough to keep on pretending to be a happy, understanding wife.
‘When a man adores his wife he will do anything to please her,’ Eduardo opined.
‘Perhaps,’ Portia concurred. Generally speaking, she supposed he was right. He wasn’t to know that Lucenzo didn’t love her at all. He might be fond of her, and lust after her whenever he was around long enough to do anything about it, but that was as far as it went.
Happily unaware of her train of thought, Eduardo confided, ‘Lucenzo stopped grieving for Flavia many years ago. But after her death he locked the door of his heart. That was understandable at that time, of course. But he forgot how to open it again and that was deeply regrettable. Then you came along and opened that door. I saw it happen and was happier than you’ll ever know. But my son is stubborn and his emotions had got so rusty he didn’t know how to trust them. So I gave him a push!’
‘A push?’ Portia didn’t know what he was talking about, but she did know he had seen what he wanted to see—his remaining son falling in love and marrying again. Didn’t everyone want to see their children happy and settled?
Eduardo patted her hand, his eyes bright, his smile loving. ‘You are my daughter now, and there will be no secrets between us. When I was sure of the way he felt—even if he didn’t know it himself at the time—I told him one great big untruth!’
He threw back his head and laughed unrepentantly. ‘I told him I was about to ask you to marry me! Family honour had to be satisfied, Vittorio’s child legitimised and made secure. The look on his face! My dear, I don’t know how I managed to look serious and determined! He was off like a bullet from a gun—it was just the shock he needed to show him his true feelings and make him propose to you himself before his silly old father could get a word in! I shall confess this to him later—this evening after dinner, perhaps. I want there to be no misunderstandings between any of us. I feel very proud of myself for bringing the two of you together.’
Portia made a big production of looking at her watch, checking on her baby. She said gently, ‘I think we should be getting back now.’ She managed a smile, but it felt wooden. If Eduardo thought that what he’d just told her was romantic and would please her he was very wrong. It simply made everything that little bit worse.
When she’d tried to figure out the reason behind Lucenzo’s proposal—which had literally stunned her—she’d drawn the conclusion that after the night that had proved they were sexually compatible he’d decided he might as well marry her and be done with it. A more than willing body in his bed, a certain fondness, the formal adoption of his brother’s son. The package made sound sense.
But it hadn’t been like that, had it? He had come to her room that night with the express intention of proposing marriage. Even if she’d been truly ugly, with no teeth, three legs and a hump, he would have gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and taken her to bed. Then proposed to her because he loved his father and was worried about his health. He would have done anything he could to save him from the hassle of marrying a woman who was young enough to be his granddaughter!
It was a demeaning and very sobering thought.
Portia was getting ready to join the family for dinner when Assunta arrived to babysit.
‘Lucenzo has just got home,’ she said excitedly. ‘He asked me to tell you that he is going to say hello to his father before changing and he will see you at dinner—which will be put back half an hour on account of his being held up. That is a very smart dress you are wearing.’ She tipped her head on one side and said, not altogether approvingly, ‘Black makes you look older. Oh, and don’t forget your ring. The last time I saw it it was by the kettle in the nursery.’
Portia had taken it off as soon as she had returned from talking with Eduardo, just before lunchtime. The square-cut diamond in the heavy antique setting had seemed so false, signifying nothing. She made a mental note to ask Ugo to lock it in the safe, along with that tiara—the thought of wearing that glittering symbol of undying love had been haunting her for days—and turned to the mirror to brush her hair.
Assunta was right, she thought as she studied the reflection of the severely cut black silk sheath dress. Black suited her mood. And she felt older. But was she any wiser? She doubted it. Wisdom flew out when love walked in. Everyone knew that.
And her heart shouldn’t have sunk to the level of her pretty new shoes on hearing that Lucenzo had made seeing his father his first priority.
He loved his father. He didn’t love her. What Eduardo had told her this morning shouldn’t make a scrap of difference. She was still committed to marrying a man who would never love her for the sake of her son.
She walked listlessly from the room. In any other circumstances she would have joined Assunta in the nursery, passing the time in chatter, practising her Italian. But tonight she needed to be on her own.
Would Lucenzo kiss her and tell her how much he’d missed her? Probably. He’d be putting on an act for the sake of the family gathered around the dinner table.
Could she take it, knowing it was a sham? Or would she push him away, discarding the act for the sham it was, just as she’d discarded the ostentatiously valuable engagement ring he’d given her?
She really didn’t know and she needed time to think about it. It would be cool on the terrace; she could be on her own.
But even that was denied her. Silently mounting the steps beyond the rose arch, she saw that Donatella and Lorna were already seated at the table where the family often took al fresco breakfasts. They had long drinks in front of them. Portia would have retraced her steps, gone further into the gardens, but Donatella’s acid-toned voice stopped her.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to face my friends at this farce of a wedding. Lucenzo Verdi marrying that common little nobody! He wouldn’t have given her a second glance in any other circumstances. A mere waitress who sleeps around—I ask you! We all know why he’s doing it, of course. He always was a clever devil. He’ll marry the creature, adopt Vittorio’s son to make everything legal and above board and then get rid of her. He’ll pack her back to England with nothing but the rags she came in, and keep that poor little boy out of her clutches.’
Leaning back in the shadows, Portia felt sick. She knew Donatella disliked her, but why would she invent something like that? They were a close-knit family. Had Donatella told her nephew, Lucenzo, that she strongly disapproved of his wedding plans? And had he, to put his aunt’s mind at rest, told her of his real intentions?
Her ears straining, she waited to hear Lorna tell the older woman not to be a fool, that Lucenzo would never do
something so callous and cruel.
But Lorna merely laughed.
And that cold, tinkling sound echoed in her ears as she turned back the way she had come.
Assunta glanced up from her knitting. ‘You’ve come back for your beautiful ring—didn’t I tell you not to forget it!’
‘No.’ Portia was trying to hold herself together. All her insides were shaking and her legs would barely hold her upright. She tugged in a ragged breath. ‘Perhaps you’d let them know I won’t be joining them for dinner. I’ve developed a migraine and—’
‘You poor child!’ Assunta was on her feet, her knitting cast aside, peering at her. ‘You don’t look at all well. What can I get you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Pills? A glass of water?’
‘No. Really.’ Portia would have liked to tell her to go away, but she couldn’t be that unkind when the older woman was so genuinely concerned about her. ‘I just need to lie down quietly for a little while and then it will pass. Truly.’
‘Then I will sit here while you rest. To look after the little one should he wake.’
Portia closed her eyes, fighting for control. She was nearing the end of her tether; she could feel it! She had to be alone to do what was necessary. She said as calmly as she could, ‘Please, Assunta. He won’t wake for a while, and when he does I can manage. Just pass my message on. Please.’
For a few agonising moments she thought the older woman was going to argue, but thankfully at last she left, and Portia methodically changed out of her dress and into her cotton robe.
She couldn’t stay. Not if there was the tiniest risk that what Donatella had said was true. She would get over her love for Lucenzo in time, but she would never survive if he married her, cast her aside and took her baby from her.
There was no sign of the battered suitcase she had arrived with. Paolina had probably burned it. But there were still two of the classy carriers left over from her shopping trip tucked away at the bottom of the hanging cupboard. It took only moments to fill one of them with the things she’d need for Sam on the journey back to England tomorrow.
Their passports and her UK currency were still in the drawer where she’d put them for safe-keeping all those weeks ago. Not letting herself think about anything but the task in hand, she transferred them to her old handbag and started to push the clothes she’d brought with her into the other carrier, leaving out a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt to wear in the morning.
She draped them over the back of a chair to put on as soon as she woke in the morning. If she ever slept. But she wouldn’t let herself think about the long, empty hours of the night. She just had to carry on with what she was doing. She couldn’t afford to let go.
But she almost did just that when Lucenzo walked into the room. Her breath locked in her throat and she started to shake, raw sobs building up a terrible pressure inside her. The carriers dropped from her nerveless fingers. So tall, so dark, so outrageously attractive, how was she going to stop loving him, needing him?
‘Assunta said you were unwell.’
How could he look so concerned when he really didn’t give a damn? When he only wanted custodial rights over her son?
‘What are you doing?’ Narrowed eyes fastened on the carriers, his frown deepening. A sleeve of that awful home-made dress, the one he’d made her wear for that first dinner with the family, was hanging out of one of them. He could hardly miss the connection.
In any case, she had to tell him.
‘There will be no marriage, Lucenzo. Sam and I will be leaving in the morning. If you can spare Alfredo, could he drive us to the airport?’ A sudden feeling of guilt swamped her. A lot of time, trouble and money had been spent on the wedding arrangements. And all those lovely clothes everyone had insisted she have. Thinking of the waste made her feel dizzy.
Lucenzo’s strong face clenched. He asked tightly, ‘What is all this about?’
‘It’s about the way everyone knows—except Eduardo, because he’s far too nice to go along with it—that you’re going to adopt Sam when we’re married. Well, I knew that, of course, but I didn’t know you planned on throwing me out and keeping him!’
She had blurted it out without thinking, and immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut when he countered with a decisive bite, ‘Who is “everyone”?’
Portia kept her mouth tightly shut this time. Though it was a bit like shutting the stable door after the horse had gone, she thought miserably, visibly shaking now.
She didn’t want to cause bad feeling between members of the family. Donatella couldn’t help disliking her and taking comfort from the thought of her coming downfall. Lucenzo’s aunt was a dreadful snob, but that would be down to the way she’d been brought up and not really her fault.
‘Sit down before you fall down.’ He helped her into a chair, the one she’d draped her old jeans on. He was quite gentle about it—probably because her teeth were chattering now and he feared a noisy descent into hysterics—but he looked blackly furious.
Because she’d learned of his intentions before it was too late?
Or because his character had been so badly maligned and the woman he was supposed to be marrying didn’t trust him one little bit?
Whatever, there was no future for them as a couple now.
‘Portia, who gave you that ridiculous information?’ he asked with predictable ferocity. ‘I need to know.’
A tear slid down her cheek.
Lucenzo visibly reined himself in, hunkered down in front of her and took both of her hands in his. ‘Tell me,’ he insisted quietly. ‘I think I know who’s been telling you lies, but I need you to verify it.’
Portia blinked rapidly. She wished she didn’t cry so easily. She would have loved to think that what Donatella had said was wicked lies, and if Lucenzo’s aunt had said all that to her face she would have had no difficulty in putting it down to sheer spite. But she’d been talking to Lorna. She’d had no idea anyone else had been listening in.
‘Who do you think?’ she asked in a shaky voice, stalling, quivering inside as he brushed her tears aside with his fingertips.
‘My dear Zia Donatella, at a guess,’ he said heavily. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
Portia nodded speechlessly. Then, at the wry twist of his mouth, she managed, ‘I overheard her talking to Lorna. If she’d said such things to my face I would never have believed her. I would have put it down to spite. She’s never been able to like me.’ She gulped frantically. ‘She once called me a sow’s ear. Is it true?’
‘You look nothing like a sow’s ear.’ His dark eyes gleamed and his mouth twitched unforgivably.
Goaded, Portia wailed, ‘I meant the rest. And it’s not funny!’
‘Of course it’s not true!’ he snapped out tersely. ‘Heavens above—what kind of monster do you think I am?’ Then, seeing her soft mouth crumple, he groaned, driven. ‘I’m sorry. Why would you trust me? I treated you badly to begin with, accused you of practically everything under the sun, and for that I apologise.’
‘Belatedly,’ she pointed out—although she’d forgiven him ages ago, because he’d changed completely once he’d heard her side of the story regarding what had happened with her and Vito.
‘Touché!’ He took her hands again. ‘Portia, listen to me. Zia Donatella is a mean-minded woman. Those things she was saying were probably wish-fulfilment. She would never have dared to say such things to your face because you would have reported back to me. Then she would have had me to deal with. And that, believe me, she would not like! Tomorrow morning she will be out of this house. She will not be at our wedding.’
At his softly tender expression a great dam burst inside her. For a split second she thought she could control it, but then she knew she couldn’t.
‘I can’t marry you, Lucenzo!’ she wailed. ‘I kept telling myself I could. For Sam. For your father. And everything. I guess I’m being really selfish—’
Tears were pouring unstoppably and she was
having trouble getting any words out. But she had to make him understand, even though he was making things a thousand times worse by looking completely and utterly shattered by what she’d said already.
‘I’m thinking only of myself, and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t go through with it. Please try to see! Oh, Lucenzo, don’t you understand? I might love you but it isn’t enough. I need to be loved!’
She was sobbing so convulsively that she didn’t have the strength to resist when he stood up and pulled her into his arms. She could only cling to him and soak the front of his shirt.
When she’d reached the noisy hiccuping state she heard him ask, ‘Did I hear right? Did you say you loved me?’
It was exactly the sort of shock she needed to cure those hiccups. Had she really said that? She supposed she must have done. She hadn’t meant to.
‘Did you?’ he prodded.
Portia nodded and mumbled, ‘Yes. Sorry. I know you don’t love me. And I also know the only reason you asked me to marry you at all was because your father told you he was going to ask me. But don’t worry about it. I understand why you did it.’
After a short silence while he unravelled the tangle of what she’d just said, and after what Portia suspected was an inner rumble of laughter, Lucenzo whispered against her ear, ‘Carissima, you know nothing. I was horrified when Father told me what he intended, and I came to your room that night to warn you, to tell you that you’d be making the biggest mistake of your life if you were to tie yourself to a man so much older than yourself. I was too cowardly to analyse my own emotions and I ended up making love to you instead. That was when I decided I wanted to marry you. And I was still being a coward—telling myself I’d never love again—because I was afraid of being badly hurt.
‘I was behaving like a fool. An even bigger fool when I had to be honest with myself and admit that I loved you, adored you. I’d banked on making you fall in love with me after we were married. Now—’ he pushed her rumpled hair back off her face ‘—we will have no more talk of cancelled weddings. I absolutely forbid it. I love you. You love me. We will be perfect together. And before you drown me in tears, I am going to phone down and ask Ugo to bring a tray of food. And champagne. And this time,’ he drawled softly as he gazed lovingly into her glittering eyes, ‘maybe we will get to taste just a little of it!’
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