A Proposal From The Italian Count

Once before she’d agreed to this demand and it had stretched to two hours, without so much as a penny being added to her wages.

‘Now, look, Jackie—’

‘We can talk tomorrow,’ she said desperately.

Unable to bear any more, she fled blindly—and collided with a man entering through the front door. She began to fall, nearly taking him down with her.

‘I’m sorry—’ she gasped.

‘No, I’m sorry,’ Vittorio said, holding her firmly.

‘Come back here,’ Rik snapped, reaching out to take her arm in a fierce grip.

‘Let me go!’ she cried.

‘I’ll let you go when you do what you’re paid to do.’

The last word ended on a yelp that burst from him at the feel of Vittorio’s hand gripping his wrist.

‘Let her go,’ ordered Vittorio.

‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ Rik wailed.

‘I said let her go, and you’d better do so if you know what’s good for you.’ Vittorio’s voice was harsh and unrelenting.

Jackie felt Rik’s painful grip on her arm loosen, until she was able to free herself.

A glance back at Rik showed he was scowling. She hurried away, following Vittorio, who put his arm protectively around her.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your boss.’

‘Don’t blame yourself.’ She sighed. ‘He’s always like that.’

‘I’m afraid I tripped you.’

‘No, I tripped you. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

‘But you stumbled. Are you sure you aren’t hurt? I thought you might have twisted your ankle.’

‘Just a little.’

‘You should sit down. Let’s go into the café.’

Once inside, he took her to a table in the corner, summoned the waiter and ordered coffee. When it was served he took a deep breath.

‘Signorina—’

‘My name’s Jacqueline Benton. People call me Jackie.’

‘Thank you—Jackie.’

‘You called me signorina. Are you Italian?’ She sounded hopeful.

‘Yes, my name is Vittorio.’

She seemed pleased at the discovery. Smiling, she offered her hand. ‘Buon giorno, Vittorio.’

‘Buon giorno, Jackie.’

‘I really thank you for what you did—rescuing me from Rik.’

‘He must be a nightmare to work for. But I guess you’re out of a job now.’

‘Probably not. You’re right—he is a nightmare. But things like that have happened before. He always apologises afterwards.’

‘He what? I find that hard to believe.’

‘So do I, in a way. But if I left it would be hard for him to find someone who’d put up with his horrible behaviour while knowing the place as well as I do.’

‘So he knows how to act for his own benefit?’ Vittorio said wryly.

‘Oh, yes. Mind you, I suppose you could say that of everyone. We all do what suits us, and we don’t really think about anyone else’s feelings.’

He knew an uneasy moment. Was it possible that she suspected the truth about his arrival?

But she was smiling pleasantly, and he told himself not to panic.

‘I find it hard to believe that of you,’ he said gently.

‘Oh, I can be selfish when it suits me.’ She gave him a cheeky smile. ‘You wouldn’t believe the lengths I go to just to get my own way.’

He smiled back, charmed by her impish humour.

‘I’ll believe whatever you care to tell me,’ he said. ‘But you don’t need to go to any great lengths. Just say what you want and I’ll take care of it.’

That could be quite a temptation, she thought, remembering what she had read on the astrology site.

The fates are planning a startling new beginning for you. The sun in Jupiter will bring things you never anticipated...

Certainly she hadn’t anticipated a charming, handsome man declaring himself at her service.

Watching her face, Vittorio managed to read her expression fairly well. He guessed she was trying decide how much fun they might have teasing each other.

And it might be really good fun, he thought. As well as humour there was a warmth in her eyes that tempted him to move closer.

‘Rik said a man was asking after my father,’ she said. ‘Was that you?’

‘Yes. I was sorry to hear that he was dead.’

‘Why are you looking for him?’

Vittorio hesitated, sensing the approach of danger. Suddenly he was reluctant to disturb the delightful atmosphere between them.

‘My own father knew him several years ago,’ he said carefully.

‘How did they meet? Did your father try to sell him some Italian goods for the shop?’

‘No, he wasn’t a salesman. He was Count Martelli.’

He waited for her to react with delight to hearing his status, as he was used to, but she only said ironically, ‘A count? You’re the son of a count? Are you kidding?’

‘No, I’m not. And, since my father has died, I am the Count.’

She burst into a delicious chuckle. ‘You must think I’m so gullible.’

‘Why don’t you believe me?’

‘Because my father never once mentioned knowing a count—or even admitted meeting one. I just can’t imagine that my father was ever friends with an aristocrat, not when we were so poor.’

‘Was he really poor? He managed to start his own business.’

‘He borrowed a lot of money to buy the shop. And it was a big mistake. He never really made the profit he needed, and we always lived on the edge of poverty.’

‘That must have been a very sad life for you,’ Vittorio said uneasily.

‘Not for me as much as for him. It destroyed his marriage to my mother. She left him for another man. For years Daddy and I had only each other. I adored him. He was a lovely man...sweet-natured, generous. I went to work in the shop, to help him. It wasn’t the life I’d planned—I’d dreamed of going to university. But I couldn’t abandon him. And in the end he was forced to sell. Rik beat him down on the price, but he offered me a job and let us go on living there. I did all I could for Daddy, but it wasn’t enough. A couple of years ago he had a heart attack.’

Vittorio dropped his head, staring at the floor. In his worst nightmares he’d never imagined anything as bad as this. If George Benton had received the money that should have been his everything would have been different for him. He might even be alive now.

What would she say when he told her?

He clenched his fists, trying to find the courage to do the right thing.

But his courage failed him, and to his relief the waiter appeared.

‘We’re about to close, sir.’

‘Then I guess we have to go,’ he said hurriedly, trying not to sound too relieved.

It was dark outside. He walked Jackie to the shop door and waited, wondering if she would invite him in. But she only said, ‘I’m glad we met. It was nice to have coffee.’

‘Yes, it was. Jackie...’ He hesitated, uncertain how to go on.

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing. Perhaps we can—see each other again. I’d like to talk.’

‘So would I. Tomorrow?’

‘I’ll look in.’

She went inside, locking the door behind her. For some moments Vittorio stood in silence, trying to come to a troubling decision.

He should have told her everything, but he knew the truth would hurt her greatly. He felt that in his heart, and flinched from striking that blow.

He’d planned every step of the way how he would confront George Benton, explain, apologise, and draw a line under it. Instead he found himself confronted with a woman whose sweetness and vulnerability touched his heart. And the truth was he didn’t know how to respond.

After standing there hopelessly for several minutes he turned and hurried away into the darkness.

CHAPTER TWO

NEXT MORNING VITTORIO awoke early. The clock said half past five and suddenly there seemed no point in staying in bed. Showering and dressing quickly, he headed straight out.

It felt good to enjoy the fresh air and the fast-growing light. But then he saw something that alarmed him. A young woman walking away in the distance. It was hard to be certain of details, but she looked strangely like...

Jackie.

Wanting to be sure, he hurried after her, but she turned a corner out of sight.

Cursing, he ran desperately through the streets. He didn’t know London at all. It was hopeless, he thought frantically when he found himself by the River Thames. She must be walking along the embankment—but in which direction?

Then luck was with him. After a hundred yards he could see her, sitting on a bench, staring out over the water. He moved closer, struck by the way she seemed sunk in another world. It reminded him of himself the night before.

He stayed silent, unsure whether it was right for him to disturb her, but after a moment she glanced up.

‘Vittorio? What are you doing up this early?’ she asked.

‘I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d stretch my legs. How are you this morning, Jackie? Are you worried about facing Rik today?’

‘I’m fine—honestly.’

‘Forgive me, but I don’t think you are.’ He lifted her chin with his fingers, looking at her face. ‘You’ve been crying.’

‘Just a little.’

He put his arms round her, overtaken by a desire to care for her. Protectiveness was a feeling he’d seldom, if ever, known before, and now it was almost alarming. He had to tell her something that would break her heart, and suddenly he wasn’t sure that he could do it.

‘Hold on to me,’ he whispered. ‘It’ll be all right.’

‘Sometimes I think things will never be all right,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to dump all this on you, but I can’t talk about Daddy without—’

‘Without remembering all the bad things that happened to him?’

‘I don’t know why, Vittorio, but I feel I could tell you anything.’

She looked up again and the sight of her vulnerable face swept him with a desire to kiss her. He yielded—but only to lay his lips on her forehead.

‘Do you want to tell me any more?’ he murmured.

‘You can’t want to hear such a terrible story,’ she said.

She was more right than she could imagine, he thought wretchedly. But he owed it to her to listen.

‘You can tell me anything, Jackie.’

She brushed the tears aside from her face. ‘I don’t really know what to say... It isn’t my tragedy.’

‘In a way it is. You lost too. You wanted to go to university. What did you want to study?’

‘I wanted to study languages. They just seem to come easily to me.’

He regarded her wryly.

‘Buon per te, signorina. La maggior parte delle persone non possono far fronte con le lingue.’

He spoke in Italian. His words meant, ‘Good for you signorina. Most people can’t cope with languages.’

‘Italian is the language I manage best,’ she said. ‘I took a few classes at night school, because we were planning to take a holiday there together. My father longed to travel to Italy. He’d been there once as a young man.’

‘Did he tell you a lot about his visit?’

‘Yes, he said it was such fun.’

‘Did he never mention meeting my father?’ he asked.

‘He mentioned an Italian friend, but said nothing at all about him being a count! They met in Italy and then again in England a few weeks later. From what Daddy said I gather they got on really well and enjoyed each other’s company.’

Vittorio nodded. ‘Yes I remember Papà saying something like that—I gather they had quite a few adventures together whilst he was there.’

‘Daddy said things like that too. He had such a lovely time with his Italian friend. Only then—’ She checked herself.

‘Then?’ Vittorio said tensely. He had an uneasy feeling that he knew what was coming.

‘Then suddenly it was all over. One day they were close buddies—the next day his friend disappeared. He left a note but it didn’t say much. Just Goodbye my friend. Franco’. No address, nothing. Daddy couldn’t contact him and he never heard from him again. It left him very unhappy after what they’d been to each other.’

‘He told you that? Didn’t he tell you any more about who the man was?’

‘No, just that his name was Franco. If he’d known more he’d have told me, I’m sure. Maybe your father never let him know that he was a count?’

‘Maybe...’ he murmured.

Their eyes met, and what Jackie saw took her breath away. There was an intensity in his gaze as though nothing but herself existed in the world. It was something she’d never seen in any man’s eyes before, and she became suddenly conscious of the soft thump of her own heartbeat.

‘Jackie—’ Vittorio checked himself, unsure how to continue. This was taking more courage than he had anticipated.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine—but there’s something I must—’

She felt a sudden sense of brilliant illumination—as though the clouds had parted on a rainy day. She’d hardly dared to hope that the vibrant attraction that possessed her possessed him too, but now she let herself wonder if perhaps it did.

A memory returned to her. That astrology prediction had said, The fates are planning a startling new beginning for you. The sun in Jupiter will bring things you never anticipated, and decisions that will change your life.

It was happening. This was the great moment that fate had planned for her. Now surely he would tell her how their meeting had affected his heart, and that was something her own heart longed to know.

She clasped his hand between hers.

‘Whatever you have to say, I know I’ll like it,’ she breathed. ‘We’ve understood each other from the first moment, and—’

‘Yes...’ he murmured. ‘Yes—yes—’

He knew the next few minutes would be tense, but something in her seemed to reach out to him, drawing him into a circle of warmth such as he’d never known before. It was what he needed most in all the world, and he knew a moment of fear lest his revelation ruin things between them.

He raised her hands and brushed his lips against them. ‘I hope so much that you’re right,’ he said. ‘But you can’t imagine—’

‘I think I can. Daddy always said you had to be ready for the unexpected.’ She met his eyes, her own full of happiness and hope. ‘And I’m ready for anything. Say it, Vittorio, and you might like my answer.’

He drew a sharp breath. Now the moment had come when he must find the courage to tell her everything.

But the sight of her eyes shining up at him caused his courage to fail. Suddenly he could see how that light would fade when she knew the terrible truth behind her father’s suffering. The thought of her pain made him shudder, and he knew he could not force himself to speak.

‘I have to go,’ he said uneasily.

‘What? But—’

‘I’m expecting an important phone call. I have to get back to the hotel.’

He rose to his feet and she followed him reluctantly. Suddenly a moment filled with magic had dissolved into nothing, leaving her desolate.

As they walked back beside the river it began to drizzle.

‘Better get back quickly, before it really starts to rain,’ he said.

They hurried the rest of the way, until they reached the shop.

‘I’ll see you again soon,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk then. Take care of yourself.’

Then he fled, devoured by thoughts whose bitterness was aimed accusingly at himself. He was no better than a coward!

His own words came back to him.

You can never tell what fate has in store for you.

It was more true than he could have dreamed. His plan for this meeting had never included the desire to hold her, comfort her, protect her—do anything rather than hurt her. It had overtaken him without warning, reducing him to helplessness. And there was no turning back.

Inside the shop, Jackie hurried up the stairs and looked out of the window in time to see Vittorio vanish around the corner.

She sighed sadly. It was obvious what had happened. He’d been about to kiss her but had changed his mind at the last moment.

Did he want her or not? He had seemed to be trying to tell her something without words. Had she misunderstood him? But he had seemed on the verge of telling her something.

What could it possibly be?

She busied herself opening up the shop. Saturdays were always busy. But somehow she couldn’t get stop thinking about him. He was there in her mind, his eyes glowing with a look that made her heart beat faster.

* * *

Next day was Sunday, which meant the shop was closed. Fearful of missing her, Vittorio hurried there early. He’d lost his nerve the day before, but he couldn’t risk losing it again.

A window opened above him and a voice said coolly, ‘Good morning, Vittorio.’

Jackie was looking down at him.

‘Morning!’ he cried, smiling brightly. ‘Can you come down?’

‘I’m not sure—’

‘Please, Jackie, it’s important. We really have to talk.’

‘We could have talked yesterday.’

‘Please.’

‘All right. I’ll just be a moment.’

She hurried down, full of hope that her tense wait would be over. He seemed to have come close and then retreated, and now she couldn’t bear any more. It must be the dream she’d longed for. They had known each other such a little time, but what did time matter when their hearts reached out to each other?

Perhaps his feelings were stronger than he’d known before, which was why he feared expressing them. But she would open her arms and her heart to him and they would both know happiness.

As soon as she appeared downstairs he put his arm about her shoulders.

‘Let’s have some breakfast in the café. It’s nice and comfortable in there.’

‘And we can talk,’ she said eagerly.

When they were settled she waited for him to speak, but again he felt silent, as though attacked by doubt at the last moment. Her heart sank. Her hopes had risen so high. She couldn’t bear to lose them again.

‘Vittorio, please tell me,’ she said. ‘Whatever is on your mind I can tell it’s important.’

‘Yes, it is...’ he said hesitantly.

‘Then please be brave and say it. Are you afraid of what I’ll say?’

‘I might be,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you can imagine—’

She touched his face. ‘Tell me, Vittorio. Let’s get it out between us and then tell each other how we feel.’

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘You’re right. Do you remember—?’

‘Remember?’

‘How we talked about our fathers yesterday.’

‘Yes, I remember, but—’

‘I should have told you then. It’s a terrible story, Jackie, but I have to tell you. Your father once placed a bet that won a million pounds.’

‘But that can’t be true! He’d have told me—we’d never have been in the situation we found ourselves in if that had been the case.’

‘He didn’t know. My father and yours were out together one night. Your father got tipsy, and he was dozing when the results were announced. When he awoke my papà had taken the winnings and kept them.’

Jackie had a terrible feeling of having crash-landed. The words reeled in her head. Only one thing was clear.

This wasn’t what she’d expected to hear.

‘What on earth are you saying?’ she demanded. ‘You can’t mean that he didn’t tell Daddy he’d won? That would be dishonest, and surely—’

‘It was the only dishonest thing he ever did, and it tormented him. He told me about it just before he died.’

‘Is this—this what you’ve been trying to say?’ she stammered.

‘Yes, it took me this long to pluck up the courage to tell you that my family has damaged yours. I’m sure you’ll find it hard to forgive. Right at this minute you probably hate me.’

That was closer to the truth than he could possibly know. As her dreams collapsed, leaving her in the middle of a desert, she felt a terrifying rage begin to take her over.

‘There’s something else I have to tell you,’ Vittorio said. ‘I’m not sure how it will make you feel.’

‘Try me,’ she whispered, with a faint flicker of renewed hope.

‘Papà made me promise to find your father and sort things out.’

‘Sort things out? What do you mean by that?’

‘I planned to give him the money Papà took from him. A million pounds. I hoped it would make everything all right.’

She stared at him, barely able to believe what she was hearing.

‘You hoped what?’ she said furiously. ‘You really hoped things could be made “all right” after so many years? After Daddy suffered so much from poverty and it made his wife abandon him? After the way he died in despair? You can’t give him your money now.’

‘But I can give it to you.’

‘You think that will make his suffering all right?’

‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ Vittorio said tensely.

‘Oh, yes, you did. You think money can solve everything—but when a man’s dead it can’t solve anything at all. You don’t understand that, do you? Hand over a cheque and everything’s settled! Maybe that’s true in business, but not in real life. But you don’t know anything about real life.’

‘Jackie, please—let me explain. I only want to—’

‘You only want to make yourself feel good.’

‘I don’t think money solves everything, but I’d like to pay the debt my family owes.

‘This is a con. Do you really expect me to believe that you can hand over a million pounds, just like that?’

‘You think I don’t have that much? You’re wrong. My father didn’t waste the million he gained.’

‘You mean the million he stole,’ she raged.

‘Very well—he stole it. But he wanted to pay it back. He invested it successfully, so that it made several more millions. I can give you back every penny—plus a few thousand for interest.’

‘Oh, you think it’s so easy, don’t you? I wouldn’t take money from you if I was starving. This conversation is at an end.’ She stood up. ‘And don’t you dare follow me.’

He’d reached out a hand to stop her, but something fierce in her manner made him draw back.

‘Please—’ he began.

‘No. Don’t you understand? No!’

She fled, fearful lest her true feelings become too plain. Instead of the loving emotion she’d hoped for he’d offered her money. If she’d stayed a moment longer she was afraid she might have done something violent.

Her departure left Vittorio in a state of total confusion and misery. Nothing had worked out as he’d intended. He’d failed to fulfil his father’s dying wish. Guilt tore at him.

He paid his bill and went out into the street, walking back in the direction of the shop. There was no sign of her.

There was nothing to do but return to the hotel and do some serious thinking about what he was going to do next.

But he found that serious thinking was very little help in a situation he didn’t understand.

* * *

The rest of Jackie’s day and night was tormented. The incredible events of the morning whirled through her brain, and at the end of the day—even though she was exhausted and wrung out when she finally got to bed—she couldn’t sleep. Instead she sat up in bed and opened the laptop she always kept with her.

She did a search on ‘Count Martelli’. She was half ready to learn that he didn’t exist, that the whole thing had been a con, and for a moment it seemed that her suspicions were correct. The picture that appeared on the screen was of a man in his sixties.

He’s lying, she thought furiously. That’s the real Count.

But then she saw the text.

Count Franco Martelli, taken just before his death four weeks ago. His heir is his son, Vittorio Martelli, latest in a line stretching back five hundred years.

She clicked the link marked ‘Count Vittorio Martelli’ and and at once saw a photograph of the man she recognised. There was no doubt.

Her temper surged once more at the memory of Vittorio trying to pay her off to assuage his family’s guilt. But had she been too hasty? Had she let her temper get the better of her once again?

Vivid in her mind was the memory of her father’s suffering. He’d tried to put on a brave face for her sake, but he hadn’t always been able to manage it. Often she had found him in tears. He’d smiled and reassured her, but over time she had come to understand the problems. Her heart had broken for him. She had become his comforter, intent on giving him some kind of happiness.