Damiano watched her for a moment, knowing what she was thinking, seeing quite plainly the look of horror on her face. ‘Because it’s had some unforeseen and deeply undesirable consequences,’ he told her. As he spoke, he leaned forward and picked up his cup of tea. He glanced at Sofia over the top of it as he drank. ‘You must have heard the rumours that are going around?’
‘I hear a lot of rumours.’ There was a controlled edge to her voice as she said it. ‘Which particular rumours might you be referring to?’
She suspected she knew, of course, and one thing was for sure—he wasn’t referring to the rumours, so far confined to the palace, concerning himself and Lady Fiona. Not that these were really rumours. More plain, simple fact.
Damiano laid down his teacup. Again, he knew what she was thinking, but he simply said, his tone matter-of-fact, ‘The rumours I’m referring to are the ones that have appeared in several newspapers, both here and abroad, in France and in England... The ones speculating that you and I are about to divorce.’
It was as Sofia had suspected, for she was aware of these stories, which had shocked and deeply hurt her when she’d first heard them. Though she feigned bravado now as she tilted her chin at him. ‘And have you come to tell me these rumours are true?’ She forced a disdainful little laugh. ‘That would be good news!’
Damiano’s expression hardened. The black eyes drove through her. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is not what I’ve come to tell you. What I’ve come to tell you is that I don’t like these rumours in the least.’
Sofia felt something spark inside her and she was tempted to shoot back at him, Well, you’ve only yourself to blame that they started in the first place! It was his affair with Fiona that had caused all the trouble between them. It was thanks to his infidelity that they were leading separate lives, causing people to speculate about divorce! But she did not say it, though once she would have. She had learned that there was no point in raking up that subject. Things would only get ugly and she’d end up feeling torn apart. So instead she said, with a contemptuous little tilt of her head, ‘So, you don’t like the rumours? Well, that’s most unfortunate. But I’m at a loss to imagine what you expect me to do about it.’
‘What I’d like you to do is help me put a stop to them.’
‘Why? Maybe they suit me.’
Sofia’s tone was defiant, and her defiance, as she was aware, sprang from a powerful sense of injury. That he had never loved her was bad enough, but he had also made a fool of her. She had discovered that he had taken up with Lady Fiona, his mistress before their marriage, only a matter of months after their wedding, then after the birth of Alessandro he’d abandoned Sofia more or less totally for her. And, though he’d been discreet and the affair had never reached the newspapers, everyone at the palace knew about it, and Sofia hated him for subjecting her to that humiliation.
She took a deep breath and threw him a look of angry challenge. ‘The more people talk about us getting divorced, the more used they’re going to get to the idea. So if we decide to go ahead there’ll be absolutely no problem. If you ask me, these rumours ought to be encouraged.’
She’d actually seriously thought that on more than one occasion, though deep in her heart the idea of divorce appalled her. She’d been brought up to believe that marriage was for ever. Though what was the point, she had often asked herself, of a marriage that brought only pain?
Damiano subjected her to a long look, his dark eyes fixed on her pale, defiant face. He wasn’t sure if she was serious, but this wasn’t a matter he was prepared to treat lightly. He told her, ‘Of course, you’re entitled to your opinion, but I can tell you here and now that there will be no divorce. Not now. Not ever. No matter what anyone may speculate. You and I are bound together for the rest of our lives.’
He paused for a moment and smiled a dark, humourless smile. ‘No one realises better than I that that’s a harsh sentence for both of us, but I’m afraid that’s the way it is, so you’d better start getting used to it. Now let’s just drop the subject. I don’t want to hear any more talk of divorce.’
He’d been leaning forward almost threateningly in his seat as he’d spoken, but now he leaned back against the cushions again. ‘I suggest you drink your tea. It’s getting cold,’ he told her. ‘Then we can continue with the subject I brought you here to discuss.’
‘Don’t lecture me. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.’ Deep inside, Sofia could feel her anger soaring and the only thing she actually felt like doing with her tea was throwing it in his arrogant, deceitful face. What did he think she was? Some immature five-year-old? How dared he talk down to her like that?
But she did not throw her tea—though she didn’t drink it either! She sat up straighter in her chair, breathing slowly to calm herself, and continued in a tone that was scornfully detached, ‘Instead of lecturing me, why don’t you just come to the point of what this is all about? Then we can wind up this meeting and get on with our separate business—which is what I’m sure we would both much rather be doing anyway.’
As she spoke, Sofia felt proud of herself. She’d come a long way. Once, she’d have exploded at him, hurt and angry at the way he treated her, screaming at him, throwing accusations, bursting into tears, and for her pains all she would have reaped was his angry contempt. But she had learned to keep a rein on her runaway emotions and these days, at least on the surface, she could be as cool and composed as he was.
Though, of course, there was still a world of difference between them. She had learned to control herself in order to save herself more agony. To Damiano it all came naturally because he simply didn’t care.
‘So, you want me to come to the point?’ His gaze swept over her, one coal-black eyebrow lifting a little, as though he was mildly amused by her rebuke. Then he continued, ‘OK. I’ll tell you why I brought you here... I brought you here because I intend to put a stop to these rumours. And, in order to do that, I’m going to require your cooperation.’
‘My cooperation?’ Sofia allowed herself a small sceptical smile. In view of the state of controlled hostility between them, the very notion of cooperation had a decidedly hollow ring to it.
Nevertheless, Damiano was insisting, ‘Yes, your cooperation.’ And there was no hint at all of amusement in his eyes now. On the contrary, his expression was deadly serious as he put to her, ‘It seems to me that the most effective way of putting an end to the divorce stories is by convincing people that you and I have a perfectly happy marriage.’
Sofia could not help it. Incredulously, she laughed. ‘And how do you plan to accomplish that?’ Her grey-blue eyes were mocking. ‘Are you going to wave your magic wand? Or maybe take out an ad in the London Times declaring to the world how very much in love we are?’ She laughed again. ‘What a fanciful notion!’
Damiano did not join in her laughter, though a small smile touched his lips. ‘Actually, I wasn’t planning to do either of those things.’
‘In that case, I would say you’ve set yourself an impossible task.’
‘Difficult, but not impossible.’ The dark eyes watched her for a moment. Then he continued, ‘What I plan to do, you see, is not simply tell people how happy we are.’ Again, a small, dry smile touched his lips. ‘Rather, what I plan on doing is, with your assistance, showing them.’
‘Showing them? How?’ Sofia was no longer laughing. Deep inside she felt a flicker of real alarm. She didn’t like the sound of this at all.
‘I plan on showing them in the only way it’s possible to show such a thing: by the two of us making frequent appearances together in public and demonstrating by our behaviour how happy we are.’
He really meant it. Sofia felt sick inside. He really was cynical enough to stoop to such a charade.
‘You mean we’re to hold hands and gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, with perhaps the occasional passionate clinch thrown in just to make sure everyone’s getting the message?’
‘I see you get the
general idea.’ Again the faint glimmer of an amused smile. ‘Though personally I would aim for a little more subtlety. Looks and glances. Sympathetic body language. That should be sufficient. No need to go over the top.’ Damiano paused and seemed deliberately to hold her gaze for a moment. ‘They can imagine that all the other stuff goes on in private.’
Sofia’s gaze nearly faltered, but she forced herself to keep it steady. Nothing went on in private. Nothing whatsoever. It was nearly eight months since they’d last slept together. Their sex life was totally a thing of the past.
She felt a crushing sense of loss. He was a wonderful, tender lover, the most accomplished, exciting lover a woman could ever have. It had been a hard thing to accept that he would never make love to her again. But she quashed these thoughts instantly. Things were better as they were. For surely there could be nothing in the world more demeaning than to be made love to by a man who didn’t love you and who had only just come from another woman’s bed. That had been her lot in the past, but it must never be so again.
She flashed him a cool look. ‘People could imagine whatever they liked. Fortunately, they’d be miles from the truth.’ Then, as he simply looked back at her with uncaring dark eyes, she added, ‘But that apart, your plan would never work. People aren’t that gullible and I’m not that good an actress. Nobody would be taken in for a minute.’
‘I’m afraid they’ve got to be.’ Damiano was sitting very still. ‘I’m afraid they’ve got to be completely taken in. And, besides, I’m sure you’re being unduly modest. I’m sure you can be a very good actress when you try.’
‘Not that good. Definitely not.’ Sofia shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid your plan would never succeed.’ She smiled. ‘You really would do better just to take out an ad in The Times.’
Damiano continued to watch her in silence for a moment. Then he said, his tone flat and dangerously quiet, ‘You seem to be under the illusion that this is some kind of proposition I’m putting forward. Something to be discussed and debated and agreed upon. Well, I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong.’ He leaned forward in his seat. ‘This is no proposition. I’ve already made the decision. This is something that’s going to happen.’
Sofia tensed. ‘You mean it’s an order?’
‘Yes, if you like, an order.’
‘And what if I don’t like?’
‘Then that would be unfortunate. But, whether you like or not, it’s not going to change a thing.’
So he was laying down the law again? Hot anger flared inside her. Sofia narrowed her eyes and pointed out in an icy tone, ‘You said you needed my cooperation, I seem to remember. Well, I’m afraid I have no intention of giving it. Issue all the orders you like. It’ll do no good, I promise you.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you, but your clever little plan, I’m afraid, is a nonstarter and there isn’t a single thing you can do about it.’
‘Isn’t there?’
‘No, there isn’t. You can’t force me to act. You can force me to go places with you, if that’s what you want, but there’s no way you can force me to look as though I’m enjoying it.’
As Sofia finished speaking, Damiano said nothing. A silence stretched between them, as taut as piano wire. And as she looked into his eyes, black and unreadable, cold fingers of anxiety touched the back of Sofia’s neck. Something was brewing inside that ruthless brain of his. She had no idea what it might be, but already she feared it.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low, his words measured. ‘You’d be surprised what I could force you to do if I put my mind to it.’ And he paused, just for an instant, to let the warning sink in. ‘But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ he continued. ‘And it needn’t if you listen carefully to what I’m about to say.’ He faced her squarely, and his tone as he began to speak again was as hard as a block of stone.
‘Rumours are circulating, rumours concerning our marriage, rumours I don’t like and that I intend to put a stop to. I will not allow the dignity of my country—nor the dignity of my position as Duke—to be compromised and subjected to damaging gossip. I’ve told you what I intend to do about it and I’ve told you I shall need your cooperation and, whether you like it or not, you will give your cooperation.’ As he paused, his eyes drove through her like bayonets. ‘And there’s really no more to be said on the subject.’
‘Oh, yes, I’m afraid there is.’ As Sofia glared back at him, her insides were churning with an anger and outrage that had momentarily eclipsed her earlier anxiety. ‘I’ve already told you I refuse to cooperate. And I mean it, I promise you. I’ll never agree.’
It was as though she had not spoken. Damiano rose to his feet, as though signalling that their discussion was over. But before he turned away he glanced down at her and told her, ‘You shall have your first opportunity to show what a fine actress you can be on Thursday evening at the opera. And then, after that, you will have an even more public opportunity when you accompany me on my trip to London next week.’
‘You’re fooling yourself, you know,’ Sofia returned, trembling with anger.
‘I know you weren’t scheduled to join me on the London trip, but the arrangements have been revised and you’ll be joining me, after all.’ Again, it was as though she had not spoken. Pushing his hands into his trouser pockets, Damiano started to turn away, informing her almost casually over his shoulder, ‘Oh, by the way, don’t worry about cancelling your other engagements. That has already been taken care of.’
‘Meaning?’ she queried through clenched teeth.
‘Meaning, quite simply, that your previous appointments have already been cancelled. Including, of course, the Pasquales’ dinner on Thursday evening.’
‘What? Surely you’re joking? How dare you do this to me?’ As he began to head for the door, ignoring her protest, Sofia sprang from her chair and launched herself after him. Blindly, she grabbed at his arm. ‘Who do you think you are,’ she demanded, ‘treating me in this high-handed fashion?’
Damiano turned to look at her, eyes harsh and unrepentant. ‘Who I think I am is your husband and who I think you are is my wife. And it’s high time that’s what we started behaving like in public.’
‘Newer! I wouldn’t lift a finger to help you salvage your precious dignity! I don’t give a damn about your reputation and I’m not going to cooperate!’
‘Oh, yes, you are.’
‘And how do you suppose you can make me? You can’t make me, you know! There isn’t a thing you can do!’
‘I think you’re wrong about that.’ As she still clung to his sleeve, Damiano fixed her with a look as harsh as an Arctic winter. ‘In fact, you’ve probably never been more wrong about anything in your life.’
‘You’re the one who’s wrong!’ But her defiance was half-hearted. That look in his eyes was making her heart freeze and suddenly Sofia was seriously frightened. ‘You’re bluffing,’ she accused, praying she might be right.
Damiano shook his head. ‘No, I’m afraid I’m not.’
‘Why, what would you do?’
‘I don’t think you really want to find that out.’ He frowned. ‘Be sensible. Just do as I say. Believe me, that’s the best solution by far.’
But still Sofia refused. ‘I won’t cooperate. No matter what!’
‘Oh, yes, you will.’
‘And how will you make me?’ She continued to clutch at his sleeve. ‘Go on! What will you do?’
Damiano took a deep breath. ‘OK. Since you insist.’ And he fixed her anxious face with eyes as black as Hades. ‘It’s really very simple... If you refuse to cooperate, you’ll be barred from seeing our son until you come to your senses.’
So, finally she had her answer. Sofia’s heart stopped dead in her chest. ‘You couldn’t do that,’ she protested feebly, scarcely able to get the words out.
‘You think not?’
‘But you wouldn’t.’ Her cheeks were bloodless, transparent. ‘Even you,’ she stammered, feeling sick and suddenly faint, ‘wouldn�
�t do a monstrous thing like that.’
‘Oh, yes, I would.’ There was not a shred of mercy in his eyes. ‘And, if you don’t believe me, go ahead and put me to the test.’
‘You monster!’
A sudden burst of anger exploded inside her. Barely knowing what she was doing, Sofia took a swing at him, aiming to punch his shoulder with her fist. But he was already shaking her off and, as she swung, she lost her balance and went staggering backwards across the carpet, catching the corner of the coffee-table a sharp blow with her leg. As she landed like a rag doll in her chair, there was a sickening crash as the blue and gold tea service went shattering to the floor.
In her state of shock, Sofia barely noticed the disaster at her feet. ‘You monster!’ she shouted again. ‘Tell me you wouldn’t do that!’
But there was no reply. Damiano had already left the room.
Damiano had not intended that the meeting would end up that way. On the contrary, he had set the whole thing up most carefully, deliberately choosing the Rose Room for its relaxed, cosy atmosphere and ordering tea in the hope of keeping the mood civilised, but still things had degenerated into the usual shambles. It just wasn’t possible to have a civilised encounter with Sofia any more.
After he’d left the Rose Room, so mad that he hadn’t even heard the crash of toppled china, he had stormed down the corridor to his private quarters, flung open the door, startling poor Emilio, his valet, and demanded, ‘Look out my riding gear and tell Kurt to prepare Sirdar. There’s been a change of plan. I’m going for a ride.’
Kurt was the Duke’s senior stable lad, Sirdar his favourite bay stallion, and as Emilio hurried off to do his master’s bidding he knew without being told that the meeting with the Duchess had not gone well. For whenever he was upset or angry this was the Duke’s favourite therapy—a hard ride through the acres that surrounded the royal palace. It was his way of exorcising the demons in his head. And demons there were aplenty. As he strode through to his private bathroom—all tiled in black and gold with a huge sunken bath—impatiently tearing off his shirt as he went, Damiano was almost exploding with seething anger. Damn Sofia! Why did she have to make things so difficult? Why couldn’t she just do as he told her and be done with it?
The Duke's Wife Page 2