Читать книгу The Doctor and the Debutante - Anne Fraser, Anne Fraser - Страница 8

ALICE studied herself in the full-length mirror. Her dress, a shimmer of silver, clung to her body before falling in a little train at the back. These days she no longer had to worry about revealing curves that suggested an over-enthusiastic fondness for food. Not eating tended to do that.

As soon as she’d come back to London she’d broken off with Peter, much to her father’s disappointment. Peter was everything he’d hoped for in a son-in-law. But he wasn’t Dante. Alice knew she could never marry anyone who didn’t make her feel the way Dante had, even if that meant being single for the rest of her life.

She pursed her lips as she applied deep red lipstick, trying to dispel the empty feeling that lurked somewhere deep inside. Okay, so this wasn’t how she’d envisaged her life to turn out, but she was happy, maybe not happy in that scary, intense way she had felt in Italy—she doubted she’d ever feel like that again—but she was content, wasn’t she? At least with her new, more active role with the charity she was doing some good. This fundraiser would bring in thousands of pounds for the camps for the displaced in Africa. And if she felt empty inside, as if someone had taken a giant icecream scoop and hollowed her out, didn’t lots of people feel that way? She should count her blessings, as people always said. Underneath the empty feeling was one of excitement. She was going to Africa with the charity. Maybe out there she would find the Alice she had been in Italy. Maybe, at last, she’d feel as if her life had some meaning.

She finished her make-up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Bless Susan, she knew exactly how do her hair so that it would stay firmly in place for the whole evening.

Alice glanced at her watch. Almost time to go.

She sighed at her image in the mirror. A pale face with dark shadows stared back at her. Had it really been a year since she had said goodbye to Dante? Tonight the guest speaker, who was doing a presentation on behalf of the charity for which this evening was being held, was a Dr Salvatore, who was coming from the same hospital where Dante had worked. When she’d seen his name on the programme, she’d contemplated slipping in a casual question to Dr Salvatore about Dante. He was bound to know him.

She knew she was torturing herself, especially if Dante turned out to be engaged or, worse still, married, but she was desperate to hear about him, even if it was only someone saying his name. When she’d left Italy without saying goodbye, she’d told herself it was for the best. So why did her heart still ache for him?

But she mustn’t think of Dante. Not tonight. Even though barely a day went past when she didn’t think of his deep brown eyes. And his smile. All that was safely in the past. She was living the life she was meant to live. Italy had been a dream. A wonderful dream. She had to look to the future.

Downstairs, the ballroom was thronging with guests. All willing to pay thousands of pounds for a seat at the dinner table, knowing that the money would be put to good use. Alice could see the top of her father’s head as he spoke animatedly to someone. Knowing him, it would be another business deal. Dad wasn’t one to waste an opportunity. Not when the heads of businesses from across the world were in this room.

The room sparkled from the hundreds of lights from the oversized chandeliers. The tables were set with the finest crystal money could buy and at each table setting there was a little Swarovski souvenir for the guests to take home. The heavy scent of lilies drifted from tall crystal vases. In the corner a string quartet was playing softly. At the end of the evening there would be a surprise for the guests as her father had flown in a famous opera singer to round off the evening. Alice couldn’t help but wonder if some of the money her father had lavished on this event could have been better spent. Given to the charity, for example. But when she’d raised the issue with him, he’d assured her that the money the evening would bring in would far outstrip the money he had lavished on this dinner. Not least as he had already personally pledged a significant sum.

The room was already packed. Diamonds flashed from throats and wrists as women in elegant evening gowns lifted glasses to their lips. The men were in dinner jackets and bow-ties, and the murmur of low voices and the occasional rumble of laughter filtered above the sound of the music.

As she weaved her way through the crowd towards her father, people parted to let her past. She paused to accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Suddenly there was a hush and all eyes swivelled towards the door. A tall, dark-haired man was standing by the entrance. He was wearing a leather jacket over a pale mauve shirt and black trousers. But it wasn’t his casual dress that caused everyone to follow his process across the room, it was his presence. A sort of natural elegance coupled with an arrogance—a way of holding his head, a half-smile on his lips as he gazed around the room with slitted, amused eyes.

Alice had stopped with her glass midway to her lips. His hair was shorter, much shorter, and there were creases near his eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before, but there was no doubt. It was Dante and he was walking towards her father.

Her legs almost buckled. She hadn’t seen him in twelve months but every part of her came alive as if a bolt of lightning had coursed through her body. What was he doing here? Where was Dr Salvatore?

She glanced around, thinking that she would escape to the ladies to give her time to get her trembling hands under control, but just then her father called her name and gestured to her to come over to him. If she fled now, she would look like an idiot. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and fixed a smile on her face. Hadn’t she taught herself to do that whenever she found herself in a difficult situation? And this one was off the Richter scale as far as difficult situations went.

‘Alice! My dear. I’d like you to meet Dr Dante Corsi. One of the directors of People in Need. Dr Corsi, my daughter, Lady Alice.’

As Alice looked into deep brown eyes the room began to spin. In a single second she was transported back to Florence, to his bed in his cottage. All the moments she had so miserly treasured and so desperately tried to forget.

Once more, years of training in how to handle difficult social situations came to Alice’s rescue.

She saw the shock of recognition in Dante’s eyes then quickly the shutters came down.

‘Dr Corsi and I have already met.’ She proffered her face for a kiss, only too aware of the familiar scent of his aftershave as he bent his head and kissed her on either cheek.

‘Oh!’ Her father looked puzzled for a moment then his brow cleared. ‘In Italy, of course. But how?’

‘Your daughter was trying her hand as an artist. There was an accident. She helped me care for the victims. It was a long time ago.’ Dante lowered his voice. ‘How have you been?’ His voice was matter-of-fact, his face expressionless, but his eyes were saying all sorts of things. Stuff she didn’t want to hear. Like who the hell are you? Why did you leave without saying goodbye?

Alice’s father narrowed his eyes. She could almost see his sharp, analytical brain whirling.

‘Dr Corsi is here to do a presentation on behalf of one of the charities we are raising money for tonight,’ he told Alice.

‘You raise money for the charity?’ Alice tried hard to keep her voice even. But it was difficult with her heart hammering away like a steam train. ‘I thought you were still working as a paediatrician in Florence.’

She realised her mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Now he’d know that she’d been keeping track on his career. But she hadn’t known about his work with the charity. And she certainly hadn’t known he’d be here. If she had, she would have found some excuse not to come.

Dante’s eyes were as dark as the night outside. ‘What about you? Did you finish your degree? How have you been?’ He sounded almost bored.

‘Yes, I finished my degree,’ she said softly. ‘At the moment, I raise funds for the charity my father sponsors.’ She knew she sounded defensive.

Alice’s father was looking from one to another, puzzlement still written all over his face. Then someone waved, trying to catch his attention.

‘Would you excuse me for a moment?’ her father said. ‘There’s someone I need to speak to. I’ll be back shortly.’

Don’t go, Daddy, Alice wanted to shout. Don’t leave me alone with this man. But of course she couldn’t say anything. She smiled faintly.

‘So, Lady Alice, ‘Dante drawled, his voice heavy with sarcasm, ‘I see now why you left in such a hurry.’ His eyes were cold.

‘Not here, Dante, not now,’ she muttered. She could not have this conversation with everyone watching them with curious eyes.

He grabbed her by the elbow and steered her towards the open French windows. She tried to pull her arm away but his grip was too strong. She couldn’t risk making a scene so she let him propel her outside onto the roof terrace.

Although seating had been set out on the terrace, most people were still inside. A fountain sprayed water into the air and the lights of London glittered as far as the eye could see.

At least the early summer breeze cooled her burning cheeks. Dante spun her towards him.

‘So. Now I’ve found you, are you going to tell me why you never told me who you really were?’

Her mouth was dry and her heart was hammering so hard she thought she was going to pass out. How could she explain? In retrospect it seemed ridiculous that she hadn’t told him, but what had been the point? There had never been any question of she and Dante having a future together. In the cold light of the day after they’d made love Alice had run, knowing that she was already more than a little in love with him and knowing that a long-term future together was impossible.

‘You l-looked for m-me?’ she stuttered.

‘I waited for you at the piazza and when you didn’t turn up I thought something had happened to you.’ A small muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘Dio, I thought you’d had an accident—that you might be lying in a hospital wondering why I didn’t come to you. I went to the villa but it was locked up, apart from the housekeeper. She told me you had left and that, no, she couldn’t give me your address. You didn’t even have the courage to tell me you were going. Then I got the letter you left for me at the hospital.’ He smiled but there was no humour in his eyes. ‘At least I knew you were not hurt.’

‘I…’ Alice took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. I should have told you I was leaving. I’m sorry.’

Dante jammed his hands into his pockets as if to prevent himself from reaching out and shaking her. He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Sorry?’ This time his smile was positively cat-like. He shrugged. ‘It does not matter. I made a mistake. I thought you were different. I was wrong.’

Anger rose up like a tidal wave. Okay, so she should have told him she was leaving, but he had never pretended she was anything more to him than a holiday romance.

‘You have no right to judge me, Dante. As you pointed out, you don’t know the first thing about my life here.’

‘Because you chose not to tell me.’ There was no mistaking the contempt in his eyes. ‘You did not have to lie.’

‘I didn’t lie,’ she said hotly. When he raised an eyebrow she added hastily, ‘I just didn’t tell you the truth.’ It sounded weak even to her own ears.

‘It is the same thing,’ he said quietly. ‘You should have trusted me. Instead you chose to act out a little…’ he struggled to find the right word ‘…play.’

‘Here you are.’ Peter’s voice cut through the tension that lay between them like a thick layer of fog. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ Although they were no longer engaged, they were still friendly.

Dante looked at Peter and his eyes turned black.

‘Peter, this is Dr Corsi, who is here on behalf of the charity.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Dr Corsi,’ Peter said. ‘I understand that the staff is ready to help you set up for your presentation.’

‘Pronto. ‘ Dante dipped his head at Peter and swung on his heel, leaving Alice alone with Peter.

‘What is it? You’re pale. Almost as if you’ve seen a ghost. Are you feeling all right?’

No, she was not feeling all right. And, yes, she had just seen a ghost.

Alice took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Somehow she would have to get through this evening.

‘I’m fine. It was hot in there and I was feeling a little faint so Dr Corsi suggested getting some fresh air. I feel much better now. Shall we take our seats?’

Alice didn’t know how she got through dinner. Although the food had been cooked by a famous London chef especially for the occasion, every bite tasted like sawdust and Alice found it difficult to swallow. Now and then, when she looked up from her plate, she would find Dante’s eyes on her. She forced herself to concentrate on her dinner companions, but crazy thoughts were running through her head. Dante had looked for her. Was that why he was here instead of Dr Salvatore? Had he seen her name and recognised it and decided to come here to berate her? No, she couldn’t believe it. Dante wasn’t small minded.