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‘I see,’ Dana said numbly, but it wasn’t true and her immediate instinct was to find Zac, wet or dry, and demand to know the reason for this cruel act of vandalism.
But, halfway to the swimming pool, she halted, realising she couldn’t ask any such thing. Couldn’t let him know that the summer house mattered, or why she was left hurt and bewildered at its destruction.
Far better not to mention it, she decided unhappily. And if he did, pretend total indifference.
After all, what was one more pretence among so many?
I need to forget the past, she told herself as she turned towards the house, and concentrate on the future. On bringing Mannion back to life. Because that’s why I’m here and it’s all that can be allowed to matter.
Accompanied by Mrs Harris and armed with a notebook and pen, Dana began upstairs, deciding which of the bedrooms needed to be completely redecorated and which only needed new curtains and bedding.
‘I’m afraid this wedding is going to involve you in a lot of work, Mrs Harris,’ she said apologetically.
‘On the contrary, madam, I’m looking forward to it. Such a lovely girl, Miss Nicola.’ The other woman beamed. ‘And Mr Belisandro has arranged for me to have help with the cleaning—Mrs Cawston from the village will be coming every weekday from now on and she has a niece who can help out in emergencies.’
‘That is good news,’ Dana agreed. ‘Now I think I’d better let you go as you’ll be wanting to get on with dinner.’
‘That’s all done,’ Mrs Harris assured her. She went a little pink. ‘And Mr Belisandro told me you will serve yourselves and has given me the evening off.’
‘Oh,’ said Dana, flushing in turn. ‘Oh, of course.’
As she went downstairs, she decided it might be time to make friends with the morning room, as it now seemed likely she’d be spending much of her time there.
But as she passed the book room, Zac was just emerging. He said, ‘I was coming to find you. We need to talk a little about money.’
On the desk, Dana saw an array of platinum credit cards, a very large chequebook and a green folder containing a sheaf of papers, neatly clipped together.
She said, ‘I do already have a credit card and a chequebook.’
‘Naturalamente. But in order to run Mannion, you will also need these. As well as the usual household expenses, there are wages to pay, and of course the cost of your redecoration programme.’ He indicated the file. ‘All the details are here, and you will need to give the bank a specimen of your signature—in your married name.’
She nodded. ‘I presume your instructions include an upper limit?’
Zac shrugged. ‘Al contrario, spend whatever you wish.’ He added softly, ‘My side of our bargain, carissima.’
Our bargain, Dana thought. That ugly, evil thing she’d seized on so blindly—to satisfy the desire to possess which had dominated her life since childhood.
Money-grubbing greedy tart. Adam’s vicious words—coming back to flay the skin from her body, because she could no longer deny their truth. Or the shame of them.
And telling herself that, as Jack Latimer’s daughter, Mannion should have been hers anyway no longer worked. Because the end did not—could not—justify the means she had chosen.
She said in a voice she hardly recognised, ‘You’re—very generous.’
‘Why not?’ he said, and the cynical note in his voice made her flinch. ‘When I expect to be so exquisitely rewarded.’
He paused. ‘You have changed out of your beautiful dress. Why?’
‘I had things to do and thought working gear would be more appropriate. Anyway, I didn’t know you’d noticed my dress,’ she added without thinking.
His brows lifted. ‘You imagine I am blind?’
‘No. It—it was a stupid thing to say. And I wasn’t fishing for a compliment either.’
His smile was swift and ironic. ‘Or, at least, not from me. I need no reminder of that.’
He paused. ‘May I suggest we eat quite soon? You touched little of your lunch and almost nothing since then.’
So he hadn’t just noticed her dress, thought Dana, her throat tightening. She would have to make a show of enjoying dinner, or he would think she was on hunger strike.
She said with unaccustomed meekness, ‘Yes, a meal would be good.’
And, to her surprise, it was.
They dined on chilled avocado soup, followed by salmon mayonnaise and rounded off by a delicate lemon mousse with fresh raspberries. All of it accompanied by a crisp, fragrant white wine which was new to her.
