Sofia sat up, her body stiffening defensively against the pillows. ‘Not really,’ she answered, ‘though it’s not painful any more. It’s still badly swollen, though, and Dr Gentile says I have to rest it. He says that’s absolutely essential.’
That was just in case he had any suspicion that she might be faking and was tempted to come up and drag her from her bed. Knowing Damiano, one couldn’t entirely discount that possibility.
And perhaps that was indeed precisely what he was planning, for he told her curtly, ‘I’ll be along to see you in a couple of minutes.’
Sofia rushed to protest. ‘Don’t bother,’ she started to say, but he had already hung up before the words were half out. She sank back against the pillows with a small sigh of dismay. She had been trying not to think about this inevitable confrontation, for no doubt she was now about to be subjected to the third degree. It wouldn’t surprise her if he even accused her of doing in her ankle deliberately!
Her heart shrank inside as she switched off the TV. Oh, Lord, she really wasn’t in the mood for a row. And what would she do if he started making threats again about Alessandro? Which he might do if he really believed she’d done it on purpose. As she waited, she was aware of a nervous pulse in her throat.
At last she heard his footsteps coming along the corridor. Sofia tensed and held her breath, waiting for the door to burst open.
But the door did not burst open. Instead, it opened without a sound. Damiano stepped into the room and smiled across at her. ‘Hello there,’ he said. ‘I’ve brought you a visitor.’
Sofia looked at him, her tension vanishing, and broke into a smile, for he was carrying a bright-eyed. Alessandro in his arms. ‘Goodness!’ she exclaimed. ‘What a lovely surprise!’
‘I know it’s past his bedtime, but he was refusing to sleep, so I talked Alice into letting me borrow him for a while.’ He came towards her and set the child down on the bed beside her. ‘Now you sit there quietly,’ he told him, ‘and be careful not to hurt Mummy’s foot.’
Sofia gave her son a hug. She had already seen him a couple of hours ago when Alice had brought him down to see her before dinner. But she was delighted to see him again. She kissed his dark hair and ruffled it. ‘Why aren’t you asleep, young man?’ she demanded affectionately.
‘I think he just wanted to come and see you.’ Damiano had pulled up a chair alongside the bed, though not too close, and was seating himself in it. He cast a glance at her bound left foot. ‘So, how is it? You say it’s not hurting any more?’
‘No, it’s not. Dr Gentile gave me some painkillers. It was pretty painful, though, when it happened.’
‘I bet it was, and you’re lucky it wasn’t worse. I’m told that was a pretty nasty tumble you took.’
‘A pretty ungainly one too.’ Sofia pulled a face. ‘I ended up nearly demolishing one of the potted palms.’ And, as she looked at him, suddenly she was feeling most peculiar. He was being so nice. Not a sign of anger. She’d been totally wrong about his reaction.
‘Never mind the potted palms.’ He smiled, the dark eyes watching her. ‘Potted palms are easily replaced, but Alessandro’s only got one mother.’
Sofia smiled back at him, touched by an unexpected warmth. She had forgotten he could be so kind, and she’d been doing him a disservice. During her pregnancy he’d been kindness and consideration personified, even though she had sometimes rejected that kindness, suspecting that all he really cared about was the heir she was carrying. Well, she wasn’t carrying an heir now, and he had no reason to pretend. Quite the contrary, in fact. She’d just screwed up all his plans!
At that thought she felt a sudden flicker of worry. Perhaps he hadn’t understood the seriousness of the situation—that she wouldn’t be able to accompany him to London after all. She held her breath nervously and looked at him as she said, ‘I suppose you realise what this means? I’m afraid I’m going to be stuck here for a while.’
‘So I understand. Still, it can’t be helped. It’s rather unfortunate, of course, but these things happen. In future, take more care when hurrying across slippery cobbled courtyards.’
‘I know. I just wasn’t paying attention. My mind was full of other things.’ It was out before she could stop it. Sofia glanced away awkwardly. She had no desire to get into a discussion of what her mind had been full of. Hurriedly, she added, her tone carefully light, ‘You’re right. In future I’ll have to be more careful.’
Damiano had picked up that momentary awkwardness and put two and two together. It was probably partly his fault that this had happened, he was thinking. He had upset her earlier during that encounter in her office. And as he looked at her now he felt a pang of regret.
He’d been as mad as hell, of course, when he’d found out about the accident, and it had crossed his mind that she might have done it deliberately. Though he’d decided, quite consciously, to reject that possibility, knowing that to believe it would only make him madder. And, anyway, now that he had seen her and looked into her eyes, he’d realised he’d been wrong to suspect it in the first place.
He told her, ‘I’ll get my secretary to phone London first thing tomorrow morning and let them know you won’t be coming. Needless to say it’s going to mean a bit of reorganising at their end.’
‘Yes, of course.’
As she answered, Sofia felt a small stab of guilt. She’d been trying not to think about that side of things, about the inevitable inconvenience she would cause others. She’d been concentrating on her own huge sense of relief.
She frowned at him. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said.
‘Like I said, it can’t be helped. If you can’t go, you can’t go.’ He looked into her eyes and seemed about to add something, then appeared to change his mind and began to rise to his feet.
‘I’ll leave you now,’ he told her. ‘I still have things to do and I think this young man’s finally ready for bed.’ He reached gently for Alessandro, who had been snuggled against Sofia and whose eyelids were very definitely starting to droop.
‘Give your mother a goodnight kiss,’ he told him, ‘and I’ll get you back upstairs to bed.’
A moment later the two of them were heading for the door, the tall dark man and the small dark child, whose head rested sleepily against his father’s shoulder. And, as she watched them, Sofia’s heart jolted inside her. She loved them both and they made such a beautiful picture—though she quickly pushed that unsettling thought away.
At the door Damiano paused. ‘Get some rest,’ he told her. ‘Goodnight. I’ll look in on you tomorrow morning.’
Sofia watched him as he disappeared, closing the door softly behind him, then listened as his footsteps receded down the corridor. So, that was it. She was free. The threat of London lifted. So why, then, she asked herself, was she suddenly feeling like this?
For her earlier sense of triumph had totally vanished. She felt quite flat, weighed down by a sense of anticlimax. She really didn’t feel as though she’d won anything at all.
As she stared into space she could still see in her mind’s eye that picture of Damiano with Alessandro in his arms. It had been a truly beautiful picture. They looked so perfect together. And it warmed her heart to know that her son had a father who loved him so utterly, with every fibre of his being. It was just a little sad that he couldn’t feel even a crumb of love for her.
She tried to push that thought away. It was weak. It was silly. And it belonged to an era she had put behind her long ago.
But she couldn’t push it away. Feeling a sudden swoop of misery, she leaned back against the pillows and burst into tears.
CHAPTER FIVE
SOFIA lay in bed that night staring into the darkness for a long time.
Her tears had been madness. A moment of weak folly. She had accepted long ago that Damiano would never love her, so why torment herself now with foolish, empty longings? Especially at this stage, when she had learned to live without his love.
But even after she
had talked herself back to calm sanity Sofia continued to lie staring at the ceiling as another, quite different thought came to trouble her. For it was gradually beginning to dawn on her that she’d got things a little back to front.
These days, she prided herself on her new independence of mind. No longer was her every move dictated by some foolish desire to please Damiano. That way of thinking had gone out the window long ago. Yet now, if she were honest, as regards this trip to London, she had allowed herself to fall into a very similar trap. She certainly wasn’t out to please him, but it was quite beyond dispute that her reaction to the whole issue had sprung out of her feelings for Damiano. It was those threats he’d made about a second honeymoon and her fear of what such intimacy would do to her that had made her determined not to go.
The more she thought about that, the less happy it made her feel. She was behaving unprofessionally. Even a little childishly. These days, surely, she could cope with Damiano? And his threat of a second honeymoon... She was silly to let it upset her, silly to start thinking there was really any danger. It was just talk that meant nothing. He was hoping to persuade her, but he was in for a disappointment for he would never persuade her. And all she had to do to make very sure of that was keep her bedroom door firmly locked!
So what to do about London? Sofia was still not quite sure when finally, very late, she drifted off to sleep. But when she woke next morning, just before eight, her mind was clear and she knew precisely what she had to do.
She picked up her bedside phone and called Damiano’s private office, knowing he would already be at his desk. And when he answered she told him. ‘Look, don’t cancel anything. I’m coming to London with you after all. I’ll have a word with Dr Gentile this morning. I’m sure he can fix me up somehow.’
There was a silence at the other end. A silence of sheer astonishment, she imagined. Then Damiano told her, ‘I’m coming right over.’ A moment later the phone went dead.
He came sweeping through the bedroom door just five minutes later, after Angela had come in and opened the curtains and asked Sofia what she fancied for breakfast—and after Sofia had demanded a robe to slip over her nightdress and had hurriedly pulled it on, making herself decent. A strange thing to do for a visit from your husband, perhaps, but then he wasn’t really her husband these days.
‘So, what’s this all about?’ He came striding into the room. ‘Why this sudden enthusiasm to go to London?’
Sofia had felt the usual traitorous flicker of desire at the sight of him, but she had doused it instantly and sat up very straight. And now she looked into his face with steady grey-blue eyes as he stood frowning down at her from the end of the bed.
‘I wouldn’t exactly call it enthusiasm,’ she answered, ‘but I think it’s my duty to go at this stage. If I cancel, I’ll be putting a lot of people out. And how are we going to look—you and I and San Rinaldo—phoning London at the last minute to change all the arrangements when they’ve already been changed once to allow me to go? We’re going to look pretty silly and I don’t want to be responsible for that.’
Damiano was watching her, trying to figure out what was going on in her head. Over the years he had grown used to being able to predict with some accuracy how his sensitive young wife would react in any given situation, but here she was totally surprising him for the second time in the space of just a few days. The first time had been when she’d handled that encounter with Fiona so coolly, but, though that had been astonishing enough, this was a hundred times more so.
He told her, ‘Don’t worry about looking silly. When it comes to accidents and ill health people tend to be very understanding. ’
‘Maybe so. But I don’t think we should presume on that understanding. I mean it’s not as though I’m seriously ill or anything. I’ve just got a sprained ankle. Hardly the end of the world. And since I plan on getting through my normal workload here I don’t see why I can’t do the same in London.’
Damiano smiled. ‘Brave words, but it’s not quite the same thing. Here, people can come to you instead of you going to them. That’s not going to be possible in London and we can hardly carry you around on a stretcher all the time.’
‘I realise that. But the trip is still three days away. By then I may be able to get around on my own. I want to speak to Dr Gentile and see what he can do:
‘OK, go ahead and speak to him.’ Damiano paused, eyes narrowed curiously. ‘But I thought you didn’t want to go to London anyway? Surely this is the perfect excuse you were looking for?’
. Sofia could scarcely deny that. ‘I thought so at first,’ she confessed, ‘but last night I got thinking and I realised that was irresponsible. Like I said, if I cancelled, I’d be putting a lot of people out. I think I owe it to everyone at least to make the effort.’
This was an entirely new Sofia, or at least one that was still very unfamiliar. Damiano looked at her, feeling a surge of mingled pleasure and pride at the spark of resolve that shone from the grey-blue eyes. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘this is most unexpected.’
Sofia was a tiny bit offended by that, for she knew very well that, had the sprained ankle been his, it wouldn’t even have crossed his mind to cancel. And nor would it have crossed hers if other matters hadn’t clouded her vision.
‘I try to do my duty,’ she told him sharply, ‘in spite of what you seem to think.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it.’
As he smiled at her rebuke, Sofia instantly guessed what he was thinking. His mind had shifted to a different manner of duty altogether! And she was left in no doubt that she’d been absolutely right as he proceeded to add, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets, ‘Now that I know that, I’m looking forward to London even more than ever.’
Sofia fixed him with a flinty look and sat up straighter against the pillows. ‘I was talking about public duty,’ she informed him stiffly. ‘What I told you before about all that other stuff still goes. Take my word for it, I haven’t changed my mind.’
‘But you will.’
‘No, never.’
‘Do you want to take bets?’
‘Bets?’ That was flippant. ‘No, I don’t want to take bets.’ She fixed him with a hard look. ‘But if I did I can assure you you’re the one who would end up losing.’
Damiano shook his head as he held her gaze for a long moment. Then he said, ‘I never make bets unless I’m pretty sure of winning. I don’t believe in long shots, and this is no long shot, believe me. You see...’ he paused and smiled ‘...I have a secret ace tucked up my sleeve.’
And what was that supposed to mean? Sofia narrowed her eyes at him. But before she could demand an explanation Angela appeared in the doorway carrying her breakfast on a tray.
Damiano continued to smile as he glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better be going,’ he told her in an amused tone, knowing she was bursting to know what his secret ace was, though she would have to wait till they got to London before he revealed that! He turned away, then halfway to the door he paused and glanced at her. ‘Look after that ankle and be sure to get plenty of rest. We want you nicely fit and rested for London.’
Sofia glared at his retreating back. I’ll be fit and rested, she promised silently. As fit and rested as I need to be to fight you off! For suddenly she was wondering if a locked door was going to be enough. She didn’t like the sound of this secret ace of his at all. Maybe a sharp pair of scissors under her pillow would be required!
So be it, she thought. For she was more determined now than ever that this so-called second honeymoon was never going to take place!
‘How’s the foot?’
‘Not bad at all. I’ve hardly felt it since we arrived. I guess it must be all the excitement!’
They’d arrived in London in bright sunshine just a couple of hours ago and now, after a brief reception at Buckingham Palace, they were being shown to their rooms at the San Rinaldo embassy, which was to be their home for the next three days.
So far, Sofia was lovi
ng every minute. For a start, London was such an exciting city. On the drive from Heathrow airport, as she’d sat in her car with Prince Philip—Damiano was in the car in front with the Queen—she’d felt a real buzz of anticipation at the thought of the next few days. It would be hard not to enjoy oneself in such a place.
What was more, she really had hardly felt her injured ankle. Over the past few days Dr Gentile had been treating her with a course of injections, which she would have to continue while she was here, and they really did seem to have done the trick. As they made their way down the embassy corridor, Sofia dressed in an elegant dark green wool suit—narrow above-the-knee skirt and long fitted jacket-and a pair of particularly appropriate black ankle boots which perfectly camouflaged her affliction, she was able to walk quite painlessly.
‘Still, when I get to my room,’ she told Damiano, ‘I think I’ll stretch out and give it a rest for a bit.’ For they had just over an hour and a half free before lunch.
They had come to the end of the corridor and the official who had accompanied them was showing them into their sumptuous suite: a beautifully appointed sitting room, with a glorious view out over leafy gardens, and two no doubt equally sumptuous bedrooms adjoining it.
But wait a minute.
As the man proceeded to show them the first bedroom, which was indeed sumptuous, with a big four-poster bed, suddenly Sofia was glancing round and frowning.
‘Whose bedroom is this? Is it yours or is it mine?’ She flicked a look at Damiano and then at the embassy official. ‘Where’s the other bedroom?’ she wanted to know.
Before the man could say a thing, Damiano was signalling. to him to leave, then he turned to look at Sofia with a small smile on his lips.
“There is only one bedroom. We’re going to be sharing it. I made it very clear that that was our wish.’
‘Our wish?’
‘Well, mine, I suppose.’
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