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‘Good. Good.’ He nodded his satisfaction. His hands were resting on the top of his ebony walking cane which he carried, Portia suspected, more for effect than practical purposes. ‘And your parents arrive when? I am looking forward to meeting them.’
‘The day after tomorrow, two days before the wedding.’ As he knew very well! Did he, too, keep going over the details just to convince himself it was all really happening? She was looking forward to seeing her parents again, even though her mother’s reaction when Portia had phoned hadn’t been flattering.
‘Why?’ she had asked after a stunned silence. ‘Why on earth would a man like him marry a girl like you?’
‘My son returns this evening,’ Eduardo remarked as Portia pondered her mother’s habit of cutting her down to size. ‘He works far too hard. You must try to curb that tendency when you are married.’
‘Lucenzo will do what Lucenzo wants to do,’ she answered lightly, to cover the nagging little worry that kept plaguing her.
She had seen nothing of him for the past three weeks. He was away on business and she missed him so badly she sometimes didn’t know what to do with herself. He phoned her each evening, but that was just for the sake of appearances.
If long and frequent absences were to be the pattern of their future life—growing longer and more frequent as the sexual chemistry wore off for him—she didn’t know if she’d be strong enough to keep on pretending to be a happy, understanding wife.
‘When a man adores his wife he will do anything to please her,’ Eduardo opined.
‘Perhaps,’ Portia concurred. Generally speaking, she supposed he was right. He wasn’t to know that Lucenzo didn’t love her at all. He might be fond of her, and lust after her whenever he was around long enough to do anything about it, but that was as far as it went.
Happily unaware of her train of thought, Eduardo confided, ‘Lucenzo stopped grieving for Flavia many years ago. But after her death he locked the door of his heart. That was understandable at that time, of course. But he forgot how to open it again and that was deeply regrettable. Then you came along and opened that door. I saw it happen and was happier than you’ll ever know. But my son is stubborn and his emotions had got so rusty he didn’t know how to trust them. So I gave him a push!’
‘A push?’ Portia didn’t know what he was talking about, but she did know he had seen what he wanted to see—his remaining son falling in love and marrying again. Didn’t everyone want to see their children happy and settled?
Eduardo patted her hand, his eyes bright, his smile loving. ‘You are my daughter now, and there will be no secrets between us. When I was sure of the way he felt—even if he didn’t know it himself at the time—I told him one great big untruth!’
He threw back his head and laughed unrepentantly. ‘I told him I was about to ask you to marry me! Family honour had to be satisfied, Vittorio’s child legitimised and made secure. The look on his face! My dear, I don’t know how I managed to look serious and determined! He was off like a bullet from a gun—it was just the shock he needed to show him his true feelings and make him propose to you himself before his silly old father could get a word in! I shall confess this to him later—this evening after dinner, perhaps. I want there to be no misunderstandings between any of us. I feel very proud of myself for bringing the two of you together.’
Portia made a big production of looking at her watch, checking on her baby. She said gently, ‘I think we should be getting back now.’ She managed a smile, but it felt wooden. If Eduardo thought that what he’d just told her was romantic and would please her he was very wrong. It simply made everything that little bit worse.
When she’d tried to figure out the reason behind Lucenzo’s proposal—which had literally stunned her—she’d drawn the conclusion that after the night that had proved they were sexually compatible he’d decided he might as well marry her and be done with it. A more than willing body in his bed, a certain fondness, the formal adoption of his brother’s son. The package made sound sense.
But it hadn’t been like that, had it? He had come to her room that night with the express intention of proposing marriage. Even if she’d been truly ugly, with no teeth, three legs and a hump, he would have gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and taken her to bed. Then proposed to her because he loved his father and was worried about his health. He would have done anything he could to save him from the hassle of marrying a woman who was young enough to be his granddaughter!
It was a demeaning and very sobering thought.
Portia was getting ready to join the family for dinner when Assunta arrived to babysit.
‘Lucenzo has just got home,’ she said excitedly. ‘He asked me to tell you that he is going to say hello to his father before changing and he will see you at dinner—which will be put back half an hour on account of his being held up. That is a very smart dress you are wearing.’ She tipped her head on one side and said, not altogether approvingly, ‘Black makes you look older. Oh, and don’t forget your ring. The last time I saw it it was by the kettle in the nursery.’
Portia had taken it off as soon as she had returned from talking with Eduardo, just before lunchtime. The square-cut diamond in the heavy antique setting had seemed so false, signifying nothing. She made a mental note to ask Ugo to lock it in the safe, along with that tiara—the thought of wearing that glittering symbol of undying love had been haunting her for days—and turned to the mirror to brush her hair.
Assunta was right, she thought as she studied the reflection of the severely cut black silk sheath dress. Black suited her mood. And she felt older. But was she any wiser? She doubted it. Wisdom flew out when love walked in. Everyone knew that.
And her heart shouldn’t have sunk to the level of her pretty new shoes on hearing that Lucenzo had made seeing his father his first priority.
He loved his father. He didn’t love her. What Eduardo had told her this morning shouldn’t make a scrap of difference. She was still committed to marrying a man who would never love her for the sake of her son.
She walked listlessly from the room. In any other circumstances she would have joined Assunta in the nursery, passing the time in chatter, practising her Italian. But tonight she needed to be on her own.
Would Lucenzo kiss her and tell her how much he’d missed her? Probably. He’d be putting on an act for the sake of the family gathered around the dinner table.
Could she take it, knowing it was a sham? Or would she push him away, discarding the act for the sham it was, just as she’d discarded the ostentatiously valuable engagement ring he’d given her?
She really didn’t know and she needed time to think about it. It would be cool on the terrace; she could be on her own.
But even that was denied her. Silently mounting the steps beyond the rose arch, she saw that Donatella and Lorna were already seated at the table where the family often took al fresco breakfasts. They had long drinks in front of them. Portia would have retraced her steps, gone further into the gardens, but Donatella’s acid-toned voice stopped her.
‘I don’t know how I’m going to face my friends at this farce of a wedding. Lucenzo Verdi marrying that common little nobody! He wouldn’t have given her a second glance in any other circumstances. A mere waitress who sleeps around—I ask you! We all know why he’s doing it, of course. He always was a clever devil. He’ll marry the creature, adopt Vittorio’s son to make everything legal and above board and then get rid of her. He’ll pack her back to England with nothing but the rags she came in, and keep that poor little boy out of her clutches.’
Leaning back in the shadows, Portia felt sick. She knew Donatella disliked her, but why would she invent something like that? They were a close-knit family. Had Donatella told her nephew, Lucenzo, that she strongly disapproved of his wedding plans? And had he, to put his aunt’s mind at rest, told her of his real intentions?
