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Instead of replying in Italian as he had done outside, Nick held up his palm to halt the flow of information. ‘You’ll have to speak English,’ he said firmly. ‘Or get a translator. My Italian’s not that good.’
Eva blinked, taken aback by the statement. Hadn’t he told her he was fluent on the plane? He certainly hadn’t had any difficulty conversing with anyone else.
‘I understand, Signor Delisantro,’ the man switched neatly into lightly accented English, pronouncing the words with the crisp, clear diction of a natural linguist. ‘My name is Luca DiNapoli, I am the head of Duca D’Alegria’s legal team. Firstly I must inform you that you are very welcome in Don Vincenzo’s home as his guest. But that your invitation here in no way obligates—’
‘Silenzio, Luca.’
The gruff words came from behind them. And it was only then that Eva noticed the elderly man sitting at a desk in the far corner of the room. He walked into a stream of sunlight, his patrician bearing as regal and dignified as one would expect from a high-ranking member of the Italian aristocracy.
The familiar golden gaze that Nick had inherited flickered over her face. ‘We meet again, Signorina Redmond. A pleasure,’ he said, the musical lilt of his accent adding an old-fashioned charm to the greeting. He took her hand, lifted it and then bowed slightly to buzz a gallant kiss onto the knuckles.
But during the whole exchange, his eyes remained fixed on Nick. The mechanical ticks of a carriage clock on the mantelpiece chanted the passing seconds with the deafening crack of rifle fire as the Duca D’Alegria took his time studying his grandson. Slowly, the intelligent, astute, assessing gaze softened, until the rich gold shone with tears.
‘Leo.’ The old man whispered the name like a prayer, his body trembling.
Eva stepped forward and touched his elbow. ‘Are you all right, Your Excellency?’ He looked every one of his eighty-eight years all of a sudden, and nothing like the forceful, indomitable and naturally poised man she had met two months ago at Roots Registry’s offices.
The duca gave his head a slight shake, then sent Eva a brief, unbearably sad smile. ‘Yes, I am well. Thanks to you, Signorina Redmond.’
Before she had a chance to process his meaning, he collected himself, the moment of fragility vanishing as he addressed his solicitor. ‘You may go, Luca.’
The man tried to protest in Italian.
The duca raised his hand. ‘We speak in English, Luca, for the benefit of our guests. And don’t be foolish. You have only to look at Niccolo to know there is no need for any of that now.’ His gaze settled on Nick as he continued to address the other man. ‘Leave us, I am tired of your talk. I will contact you tomorrow.’
The solicitor said his farewells. If he was annoyed by the abrupt dismissal, he was well trained in hiding his displeasure.
The same couldn’t be said of Nick though.
‘Would you leave us too, Signorina Redmond?’ the duca asked. ‘I would talk to Niccolo in private.’
‘She stays,’ Nick interrupted before she could answer.
The older man waited a moment, as if assessing his reply, then nodded. ‘If you wish.’
‘And the name’s Nick, not Niccolo,’ Nick replied, the cold tone bordering on rude.
The duca stiffened, but instead of ordering Nick to leave, as Eva had half expected, he only inclined his head towards an antique leather sofa and two wide wingbacked chairs, arranged in front of a huge stone fireplace. ‘Let us sit. The staff are bringing refreshments.’
‘That would be love—’ Eva began.
‘I don’t think so,’ Nick cut off her acceptance. ‘I’ve been travelling for close to twenty-four hours. I need to crash for a while.’
As if on cue, the two female members of the duca’s staff entered carrying silver trays laden with a coffee service and plates full of dainty sugared pastries and slices of fresh fruit. Continuing to watch Nick, the duca clicked his fingers and redirected the staff in Italian. The maids left and the butler rushed in, concern etched on his face.
‘Eduardo will take you to your rooms,’ the duca announced, but the hollow melancholy had left his voice. He sounded stern and his eyes were sharp and completely lucid now as they assessed Nick. ‘I dine at nine. Eduardo will show you where.’ It wasn’t an invitation, but a command from a man who spoke as if he were chastising an errant child, and was willing to be patient, but only up to a point.
Despite the dictatorial tone, Nick shrugged. ‘Maybe, if I don’t sleep through.’
The reply was insolent, clearly stating that Nick had no intention of obeying the command. Eva had the strangest impression of two stags, one a young buck, the other the leader of the herd, their antlers poised as they prepared to fight for control.
But instead of locking horns, the duca simply inclined his head. ‘Eduardo will wake you in good time if you fall asleep, Niccolo,’
Nick sent the old man a hard stare, but didn’t reply to the obvious challenge before they were led out of the room by a worried looking Eduardo.
They’d gone a few feet into the lobby area, when a young footman appeared bearing Ev
a’s case. ‘Signorina Redmond, we have the room for you in the garden house,’ he said in faltering English.
