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CHAPTER THREE
ELLIE’S HAND JERKED and the remains of her brandy splashed down the skirt of her robe.
She said in a voice she hardly recognised, ‘No. I can’t—I won’t do it. It—it’s crazy. I tell you—nothing happened.’
‘I believe you.’ Lucrezia Damiano took the glass from her hand. ‘And if only you had been seen by no-one but the Contessa and myself, there would be no problem.’ She sighed. ‘But my dear Cesare, I fear, will adopt a very different attitude.
‘Promised lovers carried away by their feelings, he might accept, although he would certainly not approve. But a casual encounter based on a passing attraction, and conducted in his house?’ She shuddered. ‘That he would find intolerable.’ And paused, adding, ‘Unforgivable.’
Ellie could feel the tension in the room crackling around her like an electrical storm.
‘I’ll talk to him,’ she said wildly. ‘Somehow make him understand.’
‘But, dear girl,’ said the Principessa. ‘What could you possibly say?’
And in one thunderstruck moment, Ellie realised that both her godmother and the Contessa knew perfectly well exactly where and with whom Angelo had really pla
That they’d probably been aware of the situation for some time.
But that, even if it was not a secret, it would still not be spoken of openly, because discretion had to be observed at all costs.
Which, in the short term, she was being called upon to pay. And her silence was only the first instalment.
She bent her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said wearily. ‘I suppose.’
‘You show good sense,’ the Contessa remarked. She looked calmly at her grandson. ‘You have not spoken, Angelo mio.’
His tone was icy. ‘Perhaps I am lost for words.’
‘Tuttavia, I am sure you appreciate the necessity. Your negotiations with Prince Damiano will go more smoothly if you undertake them as Signorina Blake’s fidanzato, rather than her attempted seducer. I am certain you must agree.’
‘Under the circumstances, it seems I have little choice,’ he said with an undisguised bitterness that made Ellie send him a surprised glance from beneath the veil of her lashes. He added with chilling clarity, ‘And an engagement is not a marriage.’
Excuse me, Ellie wanted to say indignantly, but just who is doing the big favour here and to whom? Because, Count Angelo Manzini, I wouldn’t want you if you came gift-wrapped.
And tried to put out of her mind the sudden searing memory of the way his mouth had moved on hers with such devastating sensual purpose, and her own shocked, aching reaction.
‘Then the matter is settled,’ the Principessa said briskly, and rose. ‘Now I suggest we try to get some rest for what is left of the night.’ She paused, then added pointedly, ‘Let us hope there will be no further alarms to disturb us.’
Ellie did not find the remainder of the night particularly restful. Her belongings had already been transferred to her new room, thanks to the supremely efficient Giova
But she could not relax. She had far too much to think about, little of it pleasant. For one thing, it was clear that she and Angelo Manzini had been deliberately set up, and almost certainly by Silvia, but what she couldn’t figure was—why?
For another, as she’d turned at the door of the salotto to say ‘Goodnight’, she’d found him watching her go with an expression of such scornful resentment that she’d felt her skin burn under his regard.
Anyone would think, she’d thought angrily, as she went upstairs, that I was the one having the illicit affaire, instead of him. But whatever problems he’s having, he’s brought entirely on himself, and he has no-one else to blame.
Plus he must know the last thing I ever wanted was to become involved with him or any of his sordid little games, so a touch of gratitude wouldn’t come amiss.
Nor could she escape the terrible irony that the first time she’d found herself in bed with a man was only as a result of mistaken identity. She supposed it was almost fu
The entire situation had been total humiliation, she thought as pain twisted inside her, turning rapidly into complete disaster.
She lay in the darkness, her mind revolving wearily over the same well-trodden ground, trying to make sense of it all and failing miserably.
Wondering too how she would get through the horrific difficulties of the day ahead, pretending to be engaged to a man who appeared to despise her.
She could find no answer to that and there were already pale streaks in the eastern sky when she eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.
It was mid-morning when she was woken by one of the maids bringing her a breakfast tray of tea with lemon, warm rolls, ham and cheese. At least she was being spared the gauntlet of the dining room, she thought, as the memory of Signor Barzado’s face, goggle-eyed with shock, invaded her shuddering mind. But that had to be the least of her worries.
She ate what she could, then showered quickly and dressed.
She paused to look at herself in the full-length mirror before venturing downstairs, scrutinising her ordinary dark green linen skirt and very ordinary white tee shirt. That said it all, she thought, grimacing at her reflection. And no-one in their right mind would ever believe that a man like Angelo Manzini would ask her to marry him, or steal through the darkness for a secret night of passion in her arms.
However, that was the story, and she would somehow have to stick to it. But only for a strictly limited period, she told herself, lifting her chin. Which was probably the sole aspect of the situation that she and Count Manzini were likely to agree on.
Giova
No real surprise there, Ellie thought drily. It was a charming retreat, furnished in shell pink, a shade her godmother described as ‘most calming to the nerves’, and where no-one else would dare to go unless specifically invited, so their conversation would be undisturbed.
When they reached the door, Giova
He was wearing charcoal pants this morning, and a matching shirt open at the neck. Against the sunlit pastel background, he looked as dark as a moonless night, making Ellie feel, absurdly, that this pretty room was no longer a sanctuary but a panther’s den.
It was all she could do not to take a step backwards, but she recovered herself and said quietly and glacially, ‘I thought I was here to speak to my godmother, Count Manzini.’
‘She felt we should have an opportunity to meet alone.’ His tone was casual. ‘And as we have to convince the world we have been doing so quite intimately over the past weeks, it might be better if you addressed me as Angelo. And I shall call you Elena.’
It was all said without smiling, but at least he wasn’t looking at her as if she was a slug in his salad. Cool indifference seemed an appropriate description. And she would match it.
She lifted her chin. ‘Then you really intend to go on with this—ridiculous pretence?’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’ He paused. ‘It was mentioned last night, I think, that I am here to negotiate an important financial deal for Galantana with Prince Damiano. There is a great deal at stake, and I will not allow my plans for a major expansion of the company to be wrecked by the malice of an angry woman.’