The Italians: Angelo, Rocco & Stefano: Wife in the Shadows / A Dangerous Infatuation / The Italian's Blushing Gardener

Europa fails, I shall have no reason to hide the truth about that night at Largossa. I shall tell Prince Damiano about the trick your cousin Silvia played on us both, and why, and point out that there is no reason for our engagement to each other to continue. I believe you can imagine what might follow.’

He bent and picked up a pebble from the ground, then dropped it into the water.

Ellie stared down as the ripples began to spread slowly but surely, becoming wider all the time.

It did not need any great exercise of the imagination, she thought bitterly. The consequences of Silvia’s reckless behaviour had always been there, like shadows on the edge of a room. A very public divorce from Ernesto would probably be the least of it. The shadows would touch them all.

She said, ‘This is like—blackmail.’

‘Call it rather a matter of expediency.’ His voice was level. ‘If there is no marriage between us, the Barzados would no longer be silent, but rush to add their own embellishments to the existing gossip. Do you truly wish to be the centre of stories of midnight orgies at the Largossa estate, Elena? Be responsible for the damage to the Damiano reputation?’

‘No.’ She almost choked on the word. ‘Certo che no. Of course not.’

He shrugged. ‘Then it can all be quite simply avoided. There will be a wedding ceremony and, after it, life will go on much as it does now, except that you will live at my house at Vostranto.’

He ignored her faint gasp and continued, ‘It is quite large enough to accommodate us both without awkwardness. In any case, I intend to remain at my apartment in Rome during the week, so you will have little more of my company than you endure at present.’ He smiled coldly. ‘Perhaps less. And your nights you may spend alone with my goodwill. Let that be clearly understood.’ He shrugged again. ‘Then after an interval—a year, two years perhaps—we can set about dissolving the marriage, and you will be rich and free.’

As she hesitated, he added quietly, ‘Elena, I beg you to think how much we both and others have to lose if you persist in rejecting me.’ He paused. ‘Believe me, if there was another choice to be made, I would take it.’

For a long moment, dizzy with uncertainty, she stared down at the flagstones at her feet, imagining them cracking apart, herself falling through the gap helplessly into some abyss.

In a voice she barely recognised, she said, ‘You promise—you give me your word that you’ll leave me alone. That you won’t …’ She broke off in embarrassment, not knowing what to say.

‘I guarantee you will have nothing to fear from me.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I think our previous encounter was enough for us both.’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was small, stifled, as she tried hard not to think about those brief shocked and shocking moments, and the greater nightmare that had so swiftly followed. That still enveloped her in spite of his assurances.

And yet …

I do not desire you as a wife.

Words that were, perhaps not quite as comforting as they should have been. That—if she was totally honest—stung a little in their indication that she had somehow fallen short of a standard that was none of her making. That she had not even known was required of her.

‘So may I tell the Prince that you have consented to be my bride?’

She lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes enormous in her pale face. ‘If there is no other way, then I suppose—yes.’

His brows lifted mockingly. ‘You are graciousness itself.’

‘If you wanted a more generous reply,’ she said, ‘you should have asked a more willing lady.’

‘On the contrary, Elena,’ he said softly. ‘I think you will suit my purpose very well.’

He reached for her hand and made to raise it to his lips, but Ellie snatched it back, flushing.

‘Perhaps you’d restrict your overtures to those times when we have an audience to convince, Count.’

There was a pause, then he said courteously, ‘Just as you wish, signorina.’

But Ellie knew that in that moment’s silence she’d detected anger, like a flare of distant lightning, and even though she wrote it off as a typical male reaction to a dent in his machismo, she found the discovery oddly disturbing just the same.

They were married two weeks later at a very quiet ceremony held in the palazzo‘s private chapel.

Ellie refused outright, despite all persuasions, to wear a conventional white gown and veil, and chose instead a silken slip of a dress, high-necked and long-sleeved in a pretty shade of smoky blue.

Signora Luccino looked at it askance, but her brows lifted in open disapproval when she heard that the pressure of work currently being experienced by the bridegroom had caused the postponement of the tradition luna di miele. Indefinitely.

‘You astonish me, my dear Angelo,’ she said majestically. ‘I would have thought your new bride should take precedence over any matter of business.’

Angelo gave her a cool smile. ‘You concern yourself without necessity, Zia Dorotea. Vostranto will provide us with all the peace and seclusion we could ever wish. Is it not so, carissima?’ he added, turning to the new bride in question, who was silently praying for the entire farce to be over and done with, and as soon as possible.

The one bright spot in a hideous day, she reflected, had been the absence of Silvia, who was, it seemed, accompanying Ernesto to a conference in Basle.

But even that was small comfort as she stood before the ornate gilded altar listening to herself say the words that, in the eyes of the world, gave her to Angelo Manzini.

Now she could only blush vividly and murmur something incoherent that might have been assent to his question. Her awkwardness, however, did her no disservice either with Signora Luccino or any of the other guests. Indeed, her obvious shyness at the prospect of being alone with her glamorous husband was seen as charming.

Yet in an odd way Vostranto had become the least of Ellie’s concerns about her unwanted marriage. The first time Angelo had taken her there, she’d sat beside him in the car, staring at the back of the driver’s head, taut and unhappy as if she was on her way to jail.

The house itself was a surprise, an impressive pile of pale golden stone against the folded greenery of the foothills. It was roofed in green terracotta tiles and two massive wings reached out from the central building like arms outstretched in welcome, enclosing a gravelled courtyard where a fountain played in front of the lavishly carved doors of the main entrance.

Ellie stepped out of the car, and stood for a moment, relishing the warmth of the sun after the air-conditioning of the limousine, and watching the sparkle of the drops as a marble Neptune, his head thrown back in smiling triumph, endlessly poured water from an urn shaped like a shell.

To her own astonishment, she found her inner tensions begin to dissipate a little, even if the idea of the house welcoming her was clearly a figment of her imagination, and allowed herself to be escorted inside with more composure than she’d anticipated.

The entrance hall seemed vast and directly ahead of her a wide staircase made from the same marble as the floor led up to a broad half-landing carpeted in crimson, where it divided with two shorter flights of stairs leading up to twin galleries on either side.

‘Your rooms will be in the West Wing,’ Angelo informed her almost casually, nodding in that direction. ‘Mine, in the East.’ His smile was brief and did not convey much amusement. ‘I hope that will provide enough distance between us to put your mind at rest.’

It occurred to Ellie suddenly—almost bleakly—that even if he’d said he’d be sleeping in the adjoining room to hers, there would still be a space like the Sahara Desert between them.

And had to catch at herself with faint bewilderment—because that was a good thing. Wasn’t it?

Aloud, she said woodenly, ‘You are very considerate.’

‘I cannot take the credit.’ He shrugged. ‘The arrangement is a tradition.’

A pretty chilly tradition too, like all that insistence on family honour, Ellie decided silently as she followed him to the salotto. And could surely be dispensed with in this day and age. Although not on her account, naturally, she added hastily.

But one day, when they were free of each other, he would no doubt marry again, this time to a girl who would persuade him to rethink the sleeping arrangements because she wanted him close to her all night and every night.

And once more felt something she did not totally understand stir in the pit of her stomach.

The salotto was long and low-ceilinged, with a fireplace even bigger than the one at Largossa, suggesting how cosy the room could become in the depths of winter. But for now, the French windows at the far end stood temptingly ajar, inviting the occupants to step out on to the sunlit terrace beyond, and drink in the green lawns and flower beds she could only glimpse.

She’d been told the workmen engaged on the refurbishment had only left the previous day and she was aware of the scent of paint and fresh plaster in the air, and how the walls seemed to glow. She listened in silence to Angelo’s cool and impersonal account of how the wiring had been replaced through the house, and all the plumbing modernised.

As if, she thought, he was delivering a lecture on the renovation of old houses to a not very interesting audience, instead of describing her future, if temporary, home.

From the salotto, they went to the dining room, with its superb frescoed ceiling, but by-passed altogether the room he referred to as ‘my study’ on their way to the kitchen quarters.

Which meant, she thought, that there were no-go areas for her too.

It was something of a relief to be delivered over to Assunta, his plump and smiling housekeeper, for the remainder of the tour, which, of course, included the rooms intended for her in the West Wing.

The bed, she supposed, swallowing, was also traditional, a huge canopied expanse of snowy linen, piled high with pillows, and a wonderful crimson coverlet with the Manzini coat of arms embroidered in gold.

But Ellie was aware of a swift jolt at Assunta’s confidential disclosure that His Excellency had been born in that bed, accompanied by a twinkling glance to remind her where her own duty lay.

In the adjoining stanza di bagnio, as well as a deep, sunken bath, there was a semi-circular shower cabinet that would easily have accommodated the entire bathroom in her flat on its own.

And she would never, in a hundred years, have sufficient clothes to fill that panelled dressing room with its wall of wardrobes.

The entire set-up made her feel overwhelmed and even a little off-balance with the weight of its obvious expectations, especially when she’d realised from the first moment that almost everyone who worked in the house or on the estate was lurking in the vicinity in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her, and that the smiles that greeted her held unalloyed goodwill.

But then it was a long time, as Assunta had told her, the brown eyes suddenly a little anxious, since Vostranto had a mistress.

They’re all going to be so disappointed in me, Ellie thought, as she returned downstairs to the unsmiling young man who was about to reluctantly bestow all this grandeur upon her.

She thought he’d be waiting for her in the salotto, glancing impatiently at his watch, but the room was deserted and she stood for a moment quite alone, relishing the quiet, reminding herself that this was how life was going to be for the foreseeable future, but also that she was used to it—accustomed, most of the time, to her own company both at her apartment and the

Casa Bianca—so that shouldn’t, wouldn’t be a problem. That really it was what she preferred.

And even as that thought took shape in her mind, everything seemed to change, as if, for a moment, this room into which she’d walked as a stranger only an hour or two before had become suddenly familiar and somehow—enfolded her.

So that when Angelo strode in from the terrace a few minutes later, looking preoccupied and asking if she was ready to leave, she agreed quietly and calmly, knowing that, when the time came, she would be even more contented to return. And that at least part of her life as the Contessa Manzini, while far from perfect, would at least be endurable.

But not all the issues within the marriage were going to be as easy to deal with. There was, for instance, the vexed question of her employment.

‘My wife,’ Angelo told her icily when she’d asked how soon after the wedding she could return to Avortino, ‘does not work.’

Ellie gasped indignantly. ‘But that’s ludicrous,’ she protested. ‘Just what am I supposed to do all day—sit around twiddling my thumbs? Thank you, signore, but no thanks. I love my job, I’m good at it, and I’ve promised my boss that I’ll be back at my desk—pronto.’

‘Then you should have consulted me first, when I would have told you it was out of the question.’ His expression was like stone. ‘The matter is closed.’

‘Like hell it is.’ Her voice shook. ‘I’ve agreed, much against my will and better judgement, to this pretence of a marriage. A little compromise on your part might be good.’

His lips tightened. ‘If you think I am being unreasonable, Elena, consider the practical difficulties. Travelling into the city each day is only one of them.’

She lifted her chin. ‘I have a car.’ And I also had an apartment I could have used, she added silently, which you’ve made me get rid of, while keeping your own.

‘I have seen your car,’ Angelo said dismissively. ‘Old and unreliable. A potential death trap, which will have to be replaced.’

He paused. ‘But that changes nothing. You will have no time to spend at Avortino once you become the Contessa Manzini. Your predecessors have found that in itself a full-time job with a household to run. New duties to learn.’

‘Well I can’t speak for a long line of downtrodden women,’ Ellie returned with equal coldness. ‘But the household in question seems to have been managing perfectly well without either of us for some considerable time.’

‘But that will change once we are married,’ he said flatly. ‘I intend to use Vostranto far more, and you will have to accustom yourself to being the hostess when I entertain friends—business acquaintances. That, I think, will take time.’

In other words, Ellie thought, slashed by a pain as sharp as it was unexpected, I’m not up to the job. As if I needed any reminder.

She said quietly, ‘Then perhaps you should postpone your social whirl, Count Manzini, until I’ve gone back to the real world and you’ve acquired someone more suitable to welcome your guests.’ She paused. ‘I’m sure you’ll be spoiled for choice.’

There was a silence, then he said slowly, ‘Allow me to apologise. I did not intend how that must have sounded.’

Ellie looked past him, biting her lip. She said remotely, ‘It really doesn’t matter.’ And wished with all her heart that her statement were true.

But, she told herself in silent defiance, if he thought the question of Avortino had been settled, he was entirely wrong. When this so-called marriage was concluded, she would need to work, having no plans to accept the proposed settlement however generous.

When it’s over, I want it to be over, she thought. Which does not include being under any kind of obligation to him, legal, financial or otherwise.

However, she had not anticipated that Casa Bianca would prove yet another bone of contention.

The Principessa had mentioned it casually over dinner one night. ‘Your little seaside retreat, Elena. What will happen to that when you are married?’

Ellie hesitated, uncomfortably aware that Angelo, who had been talking to the Prince, had turned his head and was looking at her, brows raised in enquiry.

He said softly, ‘A retreat for a new wife. That sounds a little alarming, mia cara. Also unnecessary. What is this place, and where?’

Ellie met his gaze, concealing her unease at the challenge in his voice. ‘My grandmother left me a little cottage at the coast in a place called Porto Vecchio.’ She added coolly, ‘It’s only a small fishing village, and not a bit fashionable, so I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it.’

‘No, but I have learned of it now, and the fact that you own a house there, which I was also unaware of.’ He paused. ‘It must involve you in considerable expense. I therefore presume you will wish to sell it?’

‘On the contrary,’ said Ellie. ‘I have no intention of parting with it, although I may possibly rent it out in the holiday season.’ When hell freezes over.

Angelo inclined his head courteously. ‘All that is something we will naturally have to discuss.’

Ellie widened her eyes into a limpid stare. Allowed her voice a note of amusement. ‘But, mio caro, what is there to talk about, when my decision has already been made?’

Besides, she added silently, Roman dictators went out with Julius Caesar, or hadn’t you heard?

But the set of Angelo’s jaw as he turned his attention back to the plate of osso buco in front of him, coupled with a long, thoughtful look from Contessa Cosima, warned her that she had probably not heard the last on the subject.

However, there was no way she was giving up the cottage, she vowed inwardly, no matter what objections her reluctant husband might have to her possession of it. It was her own special place and it meant too much—held too many memories to be abandoned on his say-so.

Nonna Vittoria had left a sum of money to cover immediate maintenance costs and local taxes, but this, of course, would not last forever. And as Ellie had no intention of asking Count Manzini for a cent towards Casa Bianca’s upkeep, retaining her job and its salary was becoming even more essential, she thought grimly.

But lying sleepless that night, an idea came to her that could solve that particular problem, although its accomplishment would probably not sweeten Angelo’s temper.

On the other hand, there went a man far too used to getting his own way—especially with women. Maybe it was time he got his comeuppance, even in a minor way.

There was a room at Vostranto, not large but with good light, and not currently being used for very much, although there was a small kneehole desk under the window which, Ellie had been told, was where Count Angelo’s late mother had written her correspondence and overseen the household accounts.

But if her laptop was installed there, she’d be able to receive translation work from Avortino by email, and return it, completed, by the same method. So commuting would not be necessary, and if she continued to use her maiden name for professional purposes, no-one need ever know that the new Contessa Manzini was gainfully employed, with or without her husband’s goodwill.

She would need Assunta’s help, but her instinctive response to Vostranto and the spell it had worked on her seemed to have established her firmly in the housekeeper’s good books, so she did not foresee major problems from that direction at least.

Or, she reflected, turning over and punching her pillow into shape, just as long as there weren’t too many references to the nursery accommodation on the second floor, also unoccupied.

But a week later, with the toasts drunk, the wedding cake distributed and the alien gold of Angelo’s ring gleaming on her hand, Ellie was no longer so confident about winning the necessary concessions. After all, she reminded herself, she had basically been hired to do a job, so her status at Vostranto would be little more than that of an employee. And as she drove with her husband to her new home, this time without the chauffeur’s presence, she could feel her inner tensions building again.

Glancing sideways, she saw that the tanned face with its sculpted mouth looked strangely austere, and realised he too must have reservations about the immediate future, and the sterile bargain it contained.

But it was all his own doing, she reminded herself stonily. I was just caught up in the subsequent storm. So whatever regrets he’s having, he fully deserves.

And Silvia, of course, had got off scot-free as she’d done so many times in childhood when retribution threatened, proving that there was no justice. But Ernesto seemed to be keeping a close eye on her, so perhaps her wings had been clipped.

‘Is something wrong?’ Angelo asked suddenly, and she jumped.

‘No. Why do you ask?’

‘You seem a little restless.’

‘Recent events,’ she said, ‘are hardly conducive to calm.’

There was a silence, then he said, ‘I do not know what else I can say to assure you …’

‘That I am of no interest to you?’ Ellie lifted her chin. ‘Believe me, signore, that is probably the least of my concerns.’

‘Then what troubles you?’

She took a breath. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. I’ve decided to go on working—but from home—your home—from Vostranto.’

‘How do you propose to do so?’ His tone was not encouraging.

‘By email. I—I’ve had a room your mother once used fixed up as an office.’ She paused. ‘It won’t disturb you or get in the way of the household duties that seem so important to you. I’ll work all the hours I need to for that. However, you must see that I need my career and my future.’

‘You do not trust me to support you adequately?’ He rapped the question at her.

‘Yes—for the time being.’ She swallowed. ‘But try to understand that I also value my independence. Which will last a great deal longer than this—pretend marriage.’

He said something under his breath. Then: ‘And you did not think to consult me before putting these arrangements—in place?’

‘I thought of it—yes.’ She stared rigidly ahead through the windscreen. ‘But I decided I knew what you would say. And if you now countermand my instructions, then your staff will know that—as well as everything else—my wishes do not matter to you, which will make it difficult for me to gain their respect, and run Vostranto as efficiently as you seem to wish.’

There was another silence, then he said softly, ‘I see I have underestimated you, Elena. On this occasion, I shall allow your orders to stand. But make sure—make very sure—that you do not underestimate me. I am still the master of Vostranto.’

‘Of the house—yes.’ Her heart was thudding wildly. ‘But you’re not my master, Count Manzini, and you never will be.’

He jerked the wheel suddenly, and Ellie cried out as the car veered to the side of the road, coming to rest on the grass verge.

‘You like to challenge me, it seems, mia bella.’ His voice bit. ‘But you have done so once too often.’

He reached for her almost negligently, pulling her hard into his arms. His mouth was hard too, and sensually explicit, inflicting a kiss without mercy which left the softness of her lips bruised and burning when at last he raised his head.

His gaze was mocking, cynical, as he looked down at her.

‘So, now you know, Elena, what it means to make me angry. You would be well advised not to risk it again. Capisce?’

She said in a voice she did not recognise, ‘I—I understand.’ And did not speak again for the remainder of the journey.

CHAPTER SIX

ELLIE STOOD, her arms wrapped almost protectively across her body, in the middle of the room she would now have to learn to call hers. Which made it, she thought, swallowing, no less imposing. Or daunting.

Besides being the only place in the house where she still felt like a stranger—an interloper.

That great canopied monolith was so obviously a marriage bed that she found herself wondering how many Manzini wives had lain there in the past waiting to perform their marital duties—something which, at least, she would be spared.

At the same time, her fingers strayed momentarily to her mouth, still tender and slightly swollen from the ravishment of his kiss.