by Craven, Sara
Lucy stared at her. She said slowly, ‘You think I stole the Falcone ring? You must be mad.’
‘No. It is you that is mad—crazy because my stepson is to be married and no longer wants you. And you think to take revenge by taking the family ring—the symbol of his engagement to my niece.’
Lucy turned to Fiammetta. ‘Signora Rinaldi, surely you don’t think...?’
‘I do not know what to think.’ Fiammetta’s face was as miserable as sin. ‘But we have searched here, and now Mamma insists we must look in the casetta. You do not object, I hope.’
‘Of course not—’ Lucy began, and halted, beset by a sudden feeling of trepidation. Emilia, she thought slowly, remembering the sudden, unexpected outburst of tears. Emilia playing upstairs alone—being a principessa. Surely—surely after Lucy’s warning she hadn’t taken the ring again. She couldn’t have done. Or could she...?
‘Signorina Winters seems to be having second thoughts.’ The contessa’s voice sounded almost triumphant.
‘No,’ Lucy denied swiftly. ‘I’m quite prepared to have my things searched.’
As long as it ends there, she thought. As long as they don’t go into the children’s rooms. If Emilia has taken it, I’ll get it back and return it somehow. Make them think they didn’t search thoroughly enough.
‘And will you also explain why you were in my room the other day?’
Lucy paused. ‘I was playing hide-and-seek with the children.’
‘Ah.’ The contessa’s smile was thin. ‘And today, once more, we will—seek what you have hidden.’
‘Mamma.’ Fiammetta sounded desperate. ‘You must not say these things. The ring may simply be lost...’
‘Nonsense,’ the contessa said with contempt. ‘It has been stolen, and by this girl—this sciattona. We will search the casetta now.’
‘May I ask a question?’ Lucy kept her voice even. ‘How did you know Count Falcone has spoken to me—about leaving?’
‘Agnese saw you together—at the casetta.’ Claudia Falcone’s tone held jeering malice. ‘Since you have been here, signorina, she has maintained a watchful eye—on my instructions.’
Lucy remembered that last passionate kiss, and felt as if she’d been dipped in slime.
She said quietly, ‘I see.’
But at least I wasn’t just being paranoid when I thought someone was spying on me, she thought wearily, recalling her unease that day beside the pool.
Agnese was waiting to accompany them back to the casetta. So the contessa wasn’t going to soil her hands with the actual search, Lucy realised angrily, encountering her sly, knowing look.
She turned to Fiammetta. ‘Is this really necessary?’
‘My mother wishes it, Lucia—I am sorry...’
‘Not half as sorry as I am,’ Lucy said grimly, and set off.
Claudia Falcone didn’t waste a second in the living room. Agnese following, she went straight up to Lucy’s bedroom. She pointed to the open case on the bed. ‘Look there.’
As if in a dream, Lucy watched Agnese pick up her yellow dress and shake out the folds. A small tissue-wrapped bundle fell to the floor, and the contessa pounced on it with a cry of triumph. The Falcone ring gleamed like blood in her hand.
The dress I wore to Firenze, Lucy thought numbly. Odd that Emilia should have chosen that one as a hiding place. But at least she had the sense not to conceal it in her own things.
‘Not even a clever thief, signorina.’ Claudia Falcone replaced the ring gloatingly on her finger, and looked at Fiammetta. ‘Now we will call the police.’
‘No.’ Fiammetta sounded more firm than Lucy had ever heard her. ‘I will not permit it. You have the ring, Mamma, so be content. Lucia is leaving tomorrow, and Giulio—believe me—would not wish a scandal.’ There was pain in the glance she directed at Lucy, and reproach. ‘You have some explanation, Lucia?’
Yes, thought Lucy, but not one I can ever make. Emilia’s only a child. She doesn’t understand that her actions can have consequences—and this would be a hard way to teach her. In fact, it would probably be disastrous. And what real purpose would it serve—as I’m going anyway? As I’ll never have to see any of these people again.
Lifting her chin, she said quietly, ‘I cannot account, signora, for the ring being in my case. I can only say I did not put it there.’
‘Then there is no more to be said.’ Fiammetta’s sigh rose from the soles of her elegant shoes. ‘I will arrange for a meal to be served to you here this evening, and tomorrow Franco will drive you to Montivemo, where you can catch a bus to Pisa. You will understand that I do not wish you to have any further contact with my children. They can sleep at the villa tonight.’
After the shocks and insults of the past half-hour, it was strange how that hurt the most...
Moving like an automaton, Lucy completed her packing. From what Fiammetta had said, it was evident that she was going to be dumped, and left to make her own way home as best she could. She counted her money, then counted it again, doing rapid sums in her head and deriving no comfort from her calculations. If she couldn’t change the return portion of her air ticket to an earlier flight, she would be in real trouble.
When an unhappy Teresa brought her supper tray, she steeled herself to give her a note for Philip.
The evening dragged endlessly past, and she was just on the point of giving him up altogether and going to bed when he appeared reluctantly at the door.
‘You’ve got a damned cheek, sending for me,’ was his greeting. ‘They’ll probably think we’re in it together.’
Lucy gasped. ‘You can’t possibly believe I stole the ring.’
‘Well, someone did,’ he returned unarguably. ‘Although Angela thinks it was an act of spite rather than a theft, because you wanted Giulio Falcone for yourself.’
‘I’m sure it’s the twisted way she would think,’ Lucy said icily. ‘But her opinions don’t interest me. The thing is—’ she took a deep breath ‘—I need to borrow some money to get me back to Britain.’
‘And you want me to give it to you? When you’ve done your best to freeze me out for the past week?’
‘A temporary loan, that’s all.’ Lucy swallowed. ‘Philip, believe me, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. And I’ll repay you as soon as I get back.’
‘Or you could repay me now—in kind.’ His tone was calculating. ‘What do you say, Luce? A roll in the sack for old times’ sake?’
His hand on her shoulder, and then sliding down insinuatingly towards her breast, made her realise, with shock, that he wasn’t joking.
She stepped backwards. She said between her teeth, ‘On second thoughts, I’d rather walk home.’
‘Fine.’ His voice was savage. ‘You’re just not very lucky, are you, Luce? Two men in your life, and you’ve lost them both to Angela. No wonder she’s laughing all over her face.’
The carafe of wine was still on her untouched supper tray. Lucy said crisply, ‘Then let’s give her another giggle,’ and threw it at him.
For a moment, he stood frozen, the ruby liquid dripping off his nose and chin, soaking into his expensive silk shirt. Then he said, ‘Bitch!’ with venomous clarity, and walked out with as much dignity as he could muster.
Franco arrived apologetically at the door almost as soon as it was daylight. It was clear that the family could not wait to get her off the premises, Lucy thought, biting her lip, as her luggage was loaded into the car. It was an awkward, embarrassing journey, and she was glad when they reached Montiverno.
She was surprised to find her hand shaken warmly in parting. ‘Ti credo, signorina, Franco told her. ‘I believe you, and Teresa also.’
There were tears in her eyes as he drove away. And she could have cried all over again when she worked out how long she was going to wait for the bus to Pisa. Partly because she was starving and partly to fill the time she bought herself a cup of coffee and a brioche at the café near the bus stop, then settled herself on a bench to wait.
She tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. Her head was whirling with disconnected thoughts, most of them unhappy. She hated leaving Tuscany under a cloud, even though it was no fault of hers. The knowledge that Angela and the contessa were gloating over her downfall was agonising, and so was the loss of Fiammetta’s good opinion. Above all, however, two people dominated her reverie: Emilia, her small face pinched and wan, and Giulio.
Nausea twisted in her stomach as she tried to imagine what he would be told—what he would think. How she would inevitably be condemned unheard.
Yet he was the only one who would understand what Emilia had done—and why. The only one who would keep the information to himself, and forgive the child. As well as give the help she so badly needed.
She heard the hiss of brakes, and saw a bus pulling up at the stop, its destination board showing ‘Firenze’.
Lucy got to her feet, aware of a trembling in the pit of her stomach. I have to tell him, she thought. For Emilia’s sake, he has to know, so that he can protect her. Or it will happen all over again, and his stepmother will have her put in some ghastly institution, where she’ll be marked for life.
It was a quick and straightforward journey, but Lucy was chafing with impatience just the same by the time they arrived in Florence. The bus stopped near the train station, so Lucy checked her case and bags into the left-luggage facility, then called into the nearby tourist office for directions to the Falcone bank.
It was a relatively new building in an anonymous street off the Piazza della Repubblica, and Lucy found herself having to negotiate stringent security precautions at its imposing glass entrance.
Her insistence that she needed a personal interview with Count Giulio Falcone was received politely but sceptically. Eventually, she was confronted by a middle-aged secretary who explained with remote civility that Count Falcone was not available.
Lucy’s hands twisted together. ‘Then if you could just give him a message...’
‘I am sorry, signorina. He will not be here for the rest of the day. He was called away earlier on urgent family business.’
And that, Lucy thought wretchedly, could mean anything.
Well, I tried, she thought, trying to comfort herself as she made her way back to the station, only to find that she had just missed a connection to Pisa, and had an hour to wait.
But what real hurry was there anyway? she asked herself. She walked slowly out of the station and back into the city. Giulio’s city. Wanting to see it through his eyes. Wishing she could know it as he did. Retracing the steps of the route she had followed during their brief time there together. It was, after all, her last chance.
In the little street near the Duomo, Giovanni’s restaurant was already bustling, getting ready for the day. Lucy wished she could have eaten there, but the need to conserve her money in case of problems at the airport seemed more important, she conceded with a sigh, before turning into the long street leading down to the Piazza della Signoria.
In the adjoining Mercato Nuovo, Il Porcellino, the bronze wild boar, sat grinning amiably.
I did return, Lucy told him under her breath, but not in the way I wanted. And I won’t be coming back. She lifted a hand and stroked the gleaming snout in final farewell.
Pisa lay baked in mid-afternoon sun when Lucy finally arrived at Galileo Galilei airport. She loaded her bags onto a trolley, and set off for the terminal building, mentally rehearsing what she’d have to say.
As the doors slid apart to admit her, he was the first—the only one—she saw.
He was standing directly in front of her, hands on hips, his face tired and serious, the golden gleam of laughter and life gone from his amber eyes. It occurred to her as she hesitated, the chatter of voices, the buzz of movement fading into obscurity, that she would give a year of her life to see him smile again.
He stepped forward and put a hand on the trolley, halting its progress. ‘So,’ he said quietly. ‘You are here at last.’
Lucy’s heart performed a peculiar kind of somersault. She said huskily, ‘Are you having me arrested? Or just making sure I leave the country?’
‘Neither of those things, Lucia. You should know better than that.’
She wasn’t sure of anything any more. But one thing she had to make clear.
She threw back her head. ‘Giulio—I swear to you I didn’t do it—I didn’t take the ring.’ She paused. ‘But I’m afraid I know who did.’
‘I do too,’ he said, the weary lines beside his mouth deepening. ‘And I am more sorry than I can say.’
She wanted to take his head in her hands and kiss away the strain and unhappiness. She said, ‘Don’t be too hard on her—please. She’s unhappy and confused—and I think she was doing it for you.’
‘You can say that?’ he asked harshly. ‘If she’d had her way you would have been in a police cell by now.’
Lucy shivered. ‘She doesn’t think things through. I’m sure she never intended...’
‘You are wrong, Lucia. She wished to destroy you. Sergio and I have had to listen to it all—to every poisonous, twisted thought she has ever had.’ He drew a harsh breath. ‘It was—vile.’
Lucy moved sharply in negation. ‘Darling—don’t. She’s only a child. She doesn’t realise...’
‘A child?’ His brows lifted. ‘I doubt that Claudia was ever a child.’
‘Claudia?’ Lucy almost screamed the name. ‘But she didn’t steal the ring.’
‘Sì.’ Giulio bent his head. ‘She gave it to her witch of a maid to put among your things. Surely you must have known?’
She said numbly. ‘No. I—I thought it was Emilia.’
‘Emilia?’ Giulio echoed. ‘But what possible reason...?’
Lucy stared up at him. ‘She’d heard you arguing with your stepmother about it and wanted to help. She took it once before—so that she could return it to you. I knew what Contessa Falcone would make of it if she found out, so I put it back. Only Agnese saw me, it seems.’
‘So that was it,’ Giulio said grimly. ‘She has been spying on you from the beginning, and saw me kiss you yesterday. When she reported back to Claudia, they hatched this plot to get rid of you, hoping that you would be back in England in disgrace before I heard of it.’
‘It’s unbelievable.’
‘Not if you know Claudia.’ Giulio sighed, then glanced around, regaining authority as he registered the curious glances being directed at them.
‘We cannot stay here,’ he said. ‘We’ll take your luggage to the car, and find somewhere to talk in private.’
Lucy hung back, her face troubled. ‘I’ve got to see about my ticket. I—I have to leave—to go back. I just needed you to know that I wasn’t a thief.’
‘Idiota.’ His voice was very tender. ‘Little fool. Little dove. Did you really think I would let you go?’
‘You can’t keep me here,’ Lucy protested as he began to steer the trolley out of the terminal building. ‘You have no right—not when you’re going to marry Angela.’
‘Let us be clear.’ He didn’t even pause. ‘I am not marrying Angela now, or at any future time. I do not love Angela, and I never have. As she and Claudia are now finally aware,’ he added with chill emphasis.
‘You don’t want her?’ Lucy’s voice shook.
He said gently, ‘I love you, Lucia, and as soon as we have some privacy I shall ask you to be my wife. But not, I think, standing in the middle of a car park.’
Lucy, rendered unexpectedly dumb, followed him meekly to the car.
‘So, here we are,’ he said as he slid into the driver’s seat beside her. ‘Back where it all began.’ He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and brought out the Falcone ring. ‘Give me your hand, carissima.’
She obeyed, and he put the glowing ruby on her finger.
‘Now,’ he said softly. ‘Now, my love, my wife, do you believe me?’ And he kissed her deeply and tenderly, and then with a mounting passion that sent her head and her heart reeling.
‘Not I, mia bella, you, or so I thought. I believed you were still in love with your worthless Philip. I found his photograph torn up in your room that first day at the villa, and recognised him as the new man in Angela’s life.’
‘But how could you? You’d never met him, surely?’
Giulio shrugged. ‘Angela is going to be a rich woman,’ he said drily. ‘Her father is naturally cautious about any man she dates—has private enquiries made about his background. And I see the information as a security precaution, because of the connection between our families. I was not impressed with what I read,’ he added levelly.
He paused. ‘When I went to Lussione and questioned your friends, they confirmed that Philip had left you for another woman, and that you were devastated—heartbroken. The last thing I bargained for was Angela’s arrival with this Philip.
‘I could think of nothing but how hurt you were going to be, and of how much I wanted to protect you from that hurt. That was when I knew I felt more for you than a passing attraction. When I knew I had fallen in love with you the first moment that you trembled in my arms.’
The beginnings of a smile curved Lucy’s mouth. ‘I think that’s when it began for me too—caro Giulio.’
He lifted the hand that wore his ring to his lips. ‘What fools we have been. The time we have wasted.’ He sighed. ‘But, you see, I’d made up my mind that if Philip—’ he pronounced the name with disdain ‘—was the man you truly wanted I would not stand in your way, however much I wanted you for myself.’
His mouth hardened. ‘It wasn’t such a problem. I know Angela only too well—know how easily she can be diverted. So I—quite cynically, I confess—provided the appropriate diversion.’