Dante's Unexpected Legacy

She took her hand away. ‘Won’t it be boring for you, Dante, showing me round a city you know so well?’

He shook his head. ‘Firenze will seem new to me, seen through your eyes. But why have you not been here before, Rose? I had hoped so much to see you again when you visited Charlotte, but you never came.’

‘Too much work to get away. And I see her regularly when she comes to visit her father.’

‘She told me Signor Morley shares his life with your mother. You are happy with this?’

Rose nodded. ‘It’s a happy arrangement all round.’

‘It was plain that you were all close at the wedding. I am fortunate to possess both my parents, but no longer, alas, my grandmother. I adored her and miss her still.’ Dante’s eyes lit with sudden heat. ‘Only the message telling me she was dying could have torn me away from you so suddenly that night, you understand? But, grazie a Dio, because I left immediately I arrived at the Villa Castiglione in good time to say goodbye to Nonna and hold her hand in mine before she...she left us.’

‘I’m glad of that,’ said Rose quietly. Though at the time she hadn’t believed a word of it, convinced the call had been from some girlfriend—a theory which had seemed proved beyond all doubt next morning when she found out about Elsa.

‘Nonna left her house to me.’ Dante’s eyes darkened. ‘At first I did not want the Villa Castiglione, afraid I would miss her there too much. But because it was Nonna’s greatest wish my parents persuaded me to live there.’

‘Alone? You’ve found no replacement for Elsa yet?’

‘No.’ He arched a wry black eyebrow. ‘You think such a thing is easy for me?’

‘I don’t think about you at all.’ She shrugged. ‘After all, I only met you once.’

His eyes narrowed to an unsettling gleam. ‘And you did not look back with pleasure on that meeting!’

‘Oh, yes, most of it. I had a great time with you all day. But once I knew you were spoken for I never gave you another thought.’ She smiled sweetly and got to her feet. ‘Now I really must go to bed.’

He walked with her to the ornate lift. ‘I shall take much pleasure in our tour of Firenze, Rose.’

‘You must tell me what to see.’

‘When do you fly home?’

‘Thursday morning.’

‘So soon!’ He frowned. ‘But that gives you only one day for the sightseeing. We must meet early for breakfast.’

‘I thought I’d have it sent up—’

‘No, no.’ Dante shook his head imperiously. ‘I will take you to breakfast in the Piazza della Signora to begin on the sightseeing as we eat. We shall meet down here at nine, d’accordo?’

Rose nodded. ‘I’ll enjoy the luxury of a lie-in for once.’

‘You rise early for your work?’

‘Much too early.’ She smiled politely as the lift glided to a halt and pressed the button for her floor. ‘Which one for you?’

‘The same.’ He showed her his room number. ‘So if you are nervous in the night you can call me and I will come.’

Rose shot him an arctic look. ‘Not going to happen, Dante.’

‘Che peccato!’ When they reached her room, Dante opened the door and stood aside with a bow. ‘Now lock your door to show me you are safe.’

Rose nodded formally. ‘Thank you for your company this evening, Dante.’

His lips twitched. ‘Because it was better than none?’

Rose let her silence speak for her as she closed and locked the door.

Dante made for his room and went out onto his balcony, deep in thought as he stared down at the Arno. Rose Palmer was very different now from the girl he’d fallen more and more in love with as the hours passed during that memorable day. Even in the rush to reach his grandmother’s side, and the searing grief that followed, it had been impossible to stop thinking of the girl he’d been forced to abandon so suddenly that night. He had made a vow to apologise to Rose in person when she first visited the Vilaris. But she never came and the apologies were never made.

It was no surprise that she had been hostile at first tonight. Whereas he had felt a great leap of his heart at the first sight of her, and an urgent need to offer comfort when she found Charlotte wasn’t joining her. He had seized the chance to propose his own company instead. He smiled sardonically, well aware that Rose had accepted the offer only because it was marginally preferable to spending her brief time in Florence alone. Tomorrow, therefore, he must do everything in his power to make her stay pleasurable before she went back to her bookkeeping. He shook his head in wonder. Could she not do something more interesting with her life?

* * *

Convinced, for a variety of reasons, that she’d lie awake all night, Rose fell asleep the instant she closed her eyes. When she opened them again the room was bright with early sunshine, and with a gasp she shot upright to grab her phone, and smiled in relief when she saw a message from her mother. Grace Palmer had come late to the skills of texting, and the message was brief:

Everything fine. Have lovely day.

Reassured, Rose sent off a grateful response and then stretched out in the comfortable bed, feeling rested after the surprise of the best night’s sleep she’d had for ages. Eventually, she wrapped herself in the hotel robe and went out on the balcony, face uplifted to the sunshine. Since she was here at last, doing the last thing she’d expected to do, pride urged her to make herself as presentable as possible now Dante Fortinari was to be her guide.

In the years since she’d last seen him she’d persuaded herself he couldn’t possibly be as gorgeous as she remembered. And she was right. Now Dante was in his early thirties maturity had added an extra dimension to his dark good looks—something her wilful hormones responded to even while the rest of her disapproved. So since a capricious fate—or Charlotte—had brought them together again, she would make use of his escort for a day and then tomorrow, back home in the real world, erase him from her life. Once again.

Dante had worn a suit cut by some Italian master of the craft the evening before, so if he’d decided to stay on the spur of the moment it seemed likely he’d have to wear the same thing again today. With that in mind, Rose went for pink cotton jeans instead of the denims worn for travelling. With a plain white cotton tee, small gold hoops in her ears and her hair caught back with a big tortoiseshell barrette, she slid her feet into the flats brought for sightseeing with Charlotte and felt ready to take on the day.

Dante was waiting in the foyer when she went downstairs shortly before nine, his look of gleaming appreciation worth all her effort. ‘Buongiorno, Rose. You look delightful!’

So did Dante. She raised an eyebrow at his pale linen trousers and crisp blue shirt. ‘Thank you. You’ve been shopping?’

He shook his head. ‘It is my custom to keep a packed bag in the car.’

Her lips twitched. ‘Ready for unexpected sleepovers?’

He grinned, looking suddenly more like the youthful Dante she remembered. ‘You are thinking the wrong thing, cara. I do this to impress the clients. Here in Italy, image is everything.’ He looked at her feet with approval. ‘Bene, you are prepared for walking.’

‘Always.’ As they left the hotel she looked at the sparkling river in delight. ‘Though my daily walks at home are in rather different surroundings from these.’

‘But the town you live in is a pleasant place, yes?’

She nodded. ‘Still, it’s good to take a short break from it. My only time away from home before was in university.’

‘I remember your pleasure at doing well in your final exams, and the celebrations which followed them.’ He frowned as they began to walk. ‘But you did not continue with the accountancy.’

‘No, I didn’t.’ She waved a hand at the beautiful buildings they were passing. ‘So talk, Signor Guide. Give me names to go with all this architecture.’

Dante obliged in detail as they walked with the river on one side and tall, beautiful old buildings on the other. But eventually he steered Rose away from the Arno to make for the Piazza della Signora with its dominant fifteenth century Palazzo Veccio that still, Dante informed her, served as Town Hall to Florence. He steered her past the queues for the famous Uffizi Gallery and the statues in the Loggia dei Lanzi on their way to the Caffe Rivoire. ‘You may look at all the sculpture you wish later,’ he said firmly and seated her at an outdoor table with a view of the entire Piazza. ‘But now we eat.’

Rose nodded. ‘Whatever you say. Breakfast is a rushed affair at home, so I shall enjoy this.’ In the buzz of this sunlit square packed with people—and pigeons—she could hardly fail. She sat drinking it all in to report on later.

‘I will buy you a guidebook so that you may show your mother what you have seen,’ said Dante as the waiter brought their meal. ‘You will take orange juice?’

‘Thank you.’ As she sipped, her eyes roved over the statuary she could see everywhere, and felt a sudden stab of envy for the man sitting so relaxed beside her.

‘That is a very cold look you give me,’ commented Dante, offering a plate of warm rolls.

‘I was thinking how privileged you are to live in a place like this. You probably take all this wonderful sculpture for granted.’

‘Not so. I do not live in the city,’ he reminded her. ‘Therefore, I marvel at it every time I return. And, Signorina Tourist, these statues were erected for more than decoration. The big white Neptune in the fountain with his water nymphs commemorates ancient Tuscan naval victories.’

‘How about the sexy Perseus brandishing Medusa’s severed head over there? Just look at those muscles!’

Dante laughed, his eyes dancing at the look on her face. ‘He is a Medici warning to enemies, while the replica of Michelangelo’s David represents Republican triumph over tyranny.’ He shook his head. ‘Enough of the lessons. What would you like to do next?’

‘Could we just sit here for a while, Dante?’ Rose refused to feel guilty because she was enjoying herself so much. She could go back to resentment and hostility later.

‘Whatever you wish.’ He beckoned to a waiter for more coffee.

Rose tensed as her phone beeped; she read the text, replied to it quickly and put the phone away. ‘Sorry about that—one of my clients.’ She smiled radiantly at the waiter who topped up her cup. ‘Grazie.’

‘Prego!’ The man returned her smile with such fervour Dante frowned.

‘It is good I am here with you,’ he said darkly when they were alone.

‘Why?’

‘To keep my beautiful companion safe from admirers.’

Rose shook her head impatiently. ‘Hardly beautiful—I’m just reasonably attractive when I make the effort.’ But sometimes the effort was hard.

‘You are far more than just attractive, Rose,’ he said with emphasis, and signalled to the offending waiter. ‘I will pay, and then we shall see more of Firenze.’

‘Dante,’ she said awkwardly, ‘could I pay, please?’

He stared at her in blank astonishment. ‘Cosa?’

She felt her colour rise. ‘You’ve given up your time to show me round. I can’t expect you to feed me as well.’

‘It is my privilege,’ he said, looking down his nose. ‘Also a great pleasure.’

‘But I feel I’m imposing.’

Dante shook his head. ‘You are not.’ He took her hand and stayed close enough to make himself heard as they threaded their way through the crowds in the Piazza. ‘I was forced to rush away from you last time, Rose, with only a brief apology. This time perhaps you will think better of me after we say goodbye tomorrow.’

Less likely to murder him, certainly. ‘When you’ve been so kind, how could I not?’ she said lightly. She stood looking up in wonder as they reached Perseus and his grisly trophy. ‘Wow! I’ve seen Renaissance art in books but the bronze reality is something else entirely.’

‘Cellini was a master,’ he agreed, and moved on to the next, graphic sculpture. ‘So was Giambologna, yes? You like his Rape of the Sabine Women? It is carved from a single block of marble, but it is flawed, as you see.’

Rose wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not so keen on that one.’

‘Then let us go to the Bargello, which was once a prison, but now houses sculpture. Donatello’s bronze David from a century earlier is there. You will like that, I think. Then you cannot leave Firenze without a visit to the Accademia to gaze in wonder at the greatest statue of all—the marble David by Michelangelo.’

Rose found that Dante was right when they arrived at the rather forbidding Bargello. On the upper loggia, it needed only one look at Donatello’s jaunty David, nude except for stylish hat and boots, for Rose to fall madly in love. She turned to Dante, her eyes bright with recognition. ‘I’ve seen him before on a television programme.’ She grinned. ‘The handsome lady in charge of his restoration couldn’t help smoothing his bottom!’

He laughed, his eyes alight as he squeezed her hand. ‘You have not changed so much after all, bella. But now you must have a tramezzini and a drink. We may have to wait for some time in the Accademia.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t need anything yet after all that breakfast, Dante. Let’s go now.’

As Dante had forecast, at the Academy of Fine Arts they had quite a wait among throngs of tourists with cameras and students with backpacks, but when they finally gained entrance to the star attraction Rose stood motionless in pure wonder at the sight of the monumental white figure gazing sternly far above their heads, the sling he would use to kill Goliath at the ready over one shoulder.

‘You are impressed?’ murmured Dante in her ear.

‘How could I not be?’ With reluctance, she dragged her eyes from the statue. ‘Thank you so much for bringing me here.’

‘It is my pleasure as much as yours, Rose. But now, if you have looked at David long enough, we shall go in search of food. Shall we go back to Caffe Rivoire, or would you like to try a different place?’

‘The Rivoire again, but just coffee and a snack, please.’

‘You shall have whatever your heart desires.’

CHAPTER TWO

TO DANTE’S AMUSEMENT Rose took surreptitious glances at her phone from time to time when they were seated among the greenery at a table close to the building, a little away from the press of crowds and pigeons in the Piazza.

‘You are expecting a call from your lover?’ he demanded at last.

‘Sorry. Just checking for any client problems,’ she lied. No way was she telling him she was checking on her child—who just happened to be his daughter. She thrust the phone in her bag, feeling suddenly cold. Would Dante try to lay claim to Bea if he found out about her? No way was she sharing her child with him. Bea was hers and hers alone.

‘You look tense. Forget the work for today,’ commanded Dante. ‘Let us enjoy this unexpected gift of time together. First you must rest for a while in your room and then later we shall go wherever you wish.’

Rose forced a smile and insisted that she couldn’t waste precious time in resting, but after some of the café’s famous hot chocolate conceded that Dante’s idea was a good one after all.

‘Bene,’ he said as they walked back to the hotel. ‘Those beautiful eyes look heavy. We shall meet in the foyer at three, yes?’

She frowned. ‘Look, Dante, I’m taking up a lot of your time. If you have other things to do—’

‘What could be more important than spending time with you, Rose?’

‘If you’re sure—’ A yawn overtook her mid-sentence, and Dante laughed.

‘You see? A rest is good, yes?’

Rose nodded, embarrassed to feel glad of the rococo gilded cage instead of trudging up the stairs. ‘If I stayed in Florence for any length of time I’d get very lazy.’

Dante smiled indulgently. ‘It is good to be lazy sometimes, Rose. I shall see you at three—unless you would like to sleep longer than that?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll be ready on the dot.’

Rose rang her mother for a brief update and learned that Tom had collected Bea from nursery school, and afterwards the three of them had gone for a walk in the park to feed the ducks and buy ice cream.

‘Did she cry for me in the night, Mum?’

‘No, darling. She told me I wasn’t quite as good at reading stories as Mummy, but otherwise settled down fairly well, and went off happy to school this morning. So do stop worrying. Enjoy yourself.’

Reassured, Rose had a brief rest on the bed, showered herself awake afterwards and changed the white tee for a navy polo shirt. When she saw Dante waiting for her in the foyer downstairs her unruly heart gave a thump as his eyes lit up at the sight of her. He was too good-looking by half, she thought resentfully as he took her hand.

‘You slept, Rose?’

‘I had a shower instead.’

‘So did I.’

Since he was wearing a fresh shirt, his black curls were damp and he smelt delicious, Rose had already gathered that.

‘Where now?’ she asked as they left the hotel.

‘To look at shops, naturalmente!’

Their first stop was on the Ponte Vecchio to look at the jewellery on display, but with her eyes popping at the prices Rose soon abandoned the jewellers for a shop selling silk ties.

‘You want a gift for the boyfriend?’ asked Dante.

Tempted to lie and say yes, she shook her head. ‘For Tom, Charlotte’s father.’ She pointed to one in cream-dotted bronze silk. ‘What do you think?’

‘A good choice. What will you buy your mother?’

‘I think I’ll go for one of these silk scarves. Which do you fancy?’

Dante pointed to one in colours similar to the tie. ‘That one, yes?’

Rose was very pleased with her purchases, sure she would have paid a lot more without Dante’s help. Later, window-gazing at designer clothes in the Via da Tornabuoni, they spent fantastic pretend fortunes on a wardrobe for her before Dante took her to the Piazza della Repubblica to browse through La Rinascente, a department store where Rose could have spent hours.

‘Next time stay longer and linger here as long as you wish. Also explore the Palazzo Pitti and the Tivoli Gardens,’ Dante told her. ‘But now, if you are not too tired, let us walk to Santa Croce to visit the Bar Vivoli Gelateria. The best ice cream in the world is made there.’

‘An offer I can’t resist!’ She laughed up at him and saw his eyes light up. ‘What?’

‘At last you laugh! For a moment I saw the younger Rose again.’

The smile faded. ‘A fleeting illusion, Dante.’

Their progress was slow on the way to the Vivoli due to the lure of the small shops in the Santa Croce area. In one of them Rose spotted attractive plaques in papier mâché painted with vegetables and bought a pair for her mother and Tom. ‘They both love gardening, and these will be light enough to stow in my suitcase.’

He smiled. ‘You have done much shopping for others, but nothing for yourself.’

‘I don’t need anything,’ she assured him. She felt guilty enough about spending Fabio’s money as it was. ‘I’ll settle for this ice cream you promised.’

At the Bar Vivoli Rose rolled her eyes in ecstasy when she tasted her strawberry ice cream. ‘It’s gorgeous—aren’t you having any, Dante?’

He shook his head, smiling indulgently. ‘I will protect the shopping from your gelato while you enjoy. Is there more you wish to buy? Or we could explore the great church of Santa Croce here.’

‘I’d like to very much, but I’d better leave that for another time.’ Not that there would be another time. She looked up at the magnificent facade with regret. ‘Shall we go back now?’

‘Whatever you wish, Rose. Where would you like to dine tonight?’

So he meant them to dine together again. Irritated by her pleasure at the prospect, she told him that at that moment, her palate still rocking with strawberry gelato, it was difficult to think of food. ‘Maybe we could eat in the hotel again?’ At least that way the cost of dinner would appear on her hotel bill and she would feel less obligated.

Dante frowned. ‘If you really wish to. But there are many restaurants in Firenze. One of my favourites is right here in Santa Croce. We could take a taxi if you are tired. You can decide later when you have rested.’

She nodded. ‘Fine.’

‘I will see you at nine then, Rose.’

‘I’ll be ready. Are you taking a rest, too?’

He nodded. ‘Also I must make a few phone calls, touch base, as you say. Ciao.’

Rose waited to make sure Dante stayed put in his room and then, praying she wouldn’t get lost, hurried out of the hotel to make her way back to the Piazza della Repubblica to buy some of the delightful things she’d seen earlier in the department store. It might be Fabio’s money, but he would approve of presents for Bea. When she got back she stowed her packages away in her suitcase and, feeling hot and grubby after her rushed, guilty shopping spree, checked her messages, grateful to find a brief but totally reassuring one from her mother. The other, at last, was from Charlotte, so obviously happy Rose felt a searing pang of envy for an instant before stepping into the shower, but afterwards fell into instant sleep so heavy it took the phone to wake her.

‘Willow House Bookkeeping,’ she muttered sleepily, and bit her lip at the sound of Dante’s chuckle.

‘You are in Firenze now, cara. You obviously slept well!’

She stifled a yawn. ‘Very well.’ She sat bolt upright after a look at her watch. ‘And much too long!’

‘Bene. You obviously needed this. Sleep longer if you wish.’

‘No, indeed. Just give me half an hour and I’ll be ready.’

‘I shall knock on your door.’

Rose shot off the bed to wash and get to work on her face. Wishing she had something different to wear, she brushed her hair loose to ring the changes a little with the faithful black dress, and flung the scarf bought for her mother over one shoulder.

‘You glow, cara,’ Dante told her when she opened the door to him later.

‘Surprising what a little nap can do for a girl.’ She smiled guiltily. ‘I thought Mum wouldn’t mind if I wore her present just once first, but I must be careful not to get anything on it—no more gelato, for a start.’

‘Should such a tragedy happen, I will buy you another. So, Rose, do you still wish to dine here, or would you like something more animado, where locals eat?’

‘Animado with locals, definitely. And I’m perfectly happy to walk.’ Maybe she could persuade him to let her go halves with the bill.

‘Then I shall take you to a trattoria near the bar where you had your gelato. It is basic and traditional, and so popular it is always crowded.’

‘Sounds good. Lead on.’

After her hot, furtive dash earlier on it was dangerously pleasant to stroll with Dante through the balmy warmth of the Florence evening. For one night like this she would pretend he was just a friend she was enjoying an evening with, rather than the man who’d once broken her heart and turned her life upside down. The trattoria was packed, as he had forecast, but a place was found for them in a long red-walled dining room filled with laughing, talking, gesticulating diners sitting elbow to elbow, in total contrast to the formality of the night before, and Rose loved it.

After discussion with the waiter who brought their menus Dante ordered wine and mineral water and sat back, amused to see Rose so obviously enjoying the proximity with her fellow diners.

‘This is more like it,’ she said with satisfaction, sneaking a look at the dishes set down at the next table. ‘Will you help me choose, Dante?’

He leaned close to translate the names of the dishes, and after much discussion about the various delights on offer Rose settled on a mixed grill of fish with spinach. ‘I don’t cook fish much at home, so this is a treat for me. What are you having?’

‘I like your choice. I will have the same.’ Dante nodded in approval as he studied the bottle of wine a waiter offered for his inspection. ‘Grazie. Try the wine, cara, and give me your opinion.’

‘Mmm,’ she said with relish. ‘Gorgeous. What is it?’

‘A Fortinari Classico,’ he said with pride. ‘I am impressed that they keep this range here.’