Читать книгу Rinaldo's Inherited Bride - Lucy Gordon, Lucy Gordon - Страница 7

ALEX decided to allow herself the next day for sightseeing. It beat sitting in her room waiting to see what Rinaldo would do next.

But as she descended into the foyer the bulky form of Signor Montelli darkened the door. Alex groaned at the sight of the oily, charmless man whom she remembered from the wake. Reluctantly she sat down with him at a table in the hotel’s coffee shop.

‘I have come to solve your problems,’ he declared loftily.

It was the wrong approach. Alex was immediately antagonised.

‘I’m sure that I have no problems that you could possibly know about,’ she replied coolly.

‘I mean that I’m prepared to pay a high price for your mortgage on the Farnese property. I’m sure we can come to terms.’

‘Perhaps we can, but not just yet. I must give the first chance to the Farnese brothers.’

He shrugged dismissively. ‘They can’t afford it.’

‘How do you know how much it is?’ she asked curiously.

‘Oh—’ he said airily, ‘these things become known. I’m sure you want to turn your inheritance into cash as soon as possible.’

Since this was precisely why she’d come out to Italy it was unreasonable of Alex to take offence, but she found her resistance stiffening. This man was far too sure of himself.

‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss it with you until I’ve discussed it with them,’ she said firmly.

He named a price.

Despite herself Alex was shaken. The money he offered was more than she was owed. The accountant in her spoke, urging her to close the deal now.

But her sense of justice intervened and made her repeat, ‘I must speak to them first.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not a patient man, signorina.’

‘I’ll have to take the risk of losing your offer, won’t I?’ she said lightly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’

As she rose Montelli’s hand came out and grasped her wrist.

‘We haven’t finished talking.’

‘Yes, we have,’ she snapped, ‘and if you don’t release me right now I shall slap your face so hard that your ears will be ringing for a week.’

‘Better do as she says,’ Gino advised. ‘Otherwise I’ll get to work on you myself.’

Neither of them had seen him come into the coffee shop. Montelli scowled and withdrew his hand.

‘Shall I thump him for you anyway?’ Gino asked her pleasantly.

‘Don’t you dare!’ she said firmly. ‘If there’s any thumping to be done I want the pleasure of doing it personally.’

Gino grinned. Then, glancing at Montelli, he said curtly, ‘Take yourself off.’

The transformation in him was astonishing. Instead of the smiling boy there was a hard, steely man. Then it was over, and the pleasant young man was there again. But for a moment Alex could see that this was Rinaldo’s brother.

Montelli saw it too, for he scuttled away.

‘My chance to rescue a damsel in distress,’ Gino said, laughing. ‘And you had to spoil it. Couldn’t you have pretended to be just a little bit scared for the sake of my male ego?’

‘Oh, I should think your male ego is in fine healthy shape, without me buttering it up,’ Alex observed, laughing with him.

‘Signorina, you understand me perfectly,’ he said.

He said ‘signorina’ differently to his brother, she thought, softer, almost with a caress, not grim and accusing. A natural flirt. A merry, uncomplicated lad. He would be excellent company.

‘Are you going out?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I thought I’d do some sightseeing. I’ve never been to Florence before.’

‘May I show you around? I’m at your service.’

‘That would be nice. Let’s have a coffee and discuss it.’

They found a small café near the loggia and drank coffee in sight of the bronze boar. Alex waited for him to tell her about the superstition of rubbing the beast’s nose, but he did not.

But of course, she thought, you know all about your brother’s visit to me last night, how we fought, and then came here. He told you everything. This meeting was no accident.

She smiled at Gino over the rim of her coffee cup, while her mind pursued her own thoughts.

He told you to come and find me, to see if charm worked any better than growling. Well, you are delightful, my friend, and I’m happy to spend the day with you. But you don’t fool me for a moment.

‘Did Montelli hurt you, grabbing you like that?’ Gino asked, taking her arm gently and studying it as though looking for bruises.

She barely felt his light touch. Nor could she recall the feel of Montelli’s hand, unpleasant though it had been. The grasp that lingered was Rinaldo’s, from the night before. Strange, she thought, how she could still feel that.

For a moment she saw his face again, intent, deadly, ready to do something desperate at any hint of a threat to what was his.

‘No, Montelli didn’t hurt me,’ she said.

Gino held onto her just a little longer than necessary, before dropping her hand and saying, ‘Let me take you to the Uffizi Gallery first. Here in Florence we have the greatest art in the world.’

Together they went around the vast gallery. Alex tried to look at all the pictures and show a proper appreciation, but it was too much for her. She felt as though great art was pursuing and attacking her.

They had lunch at a little restaurant overlooking the River Arno, with a perfect view of the Ponte Vecchio.

‘I can’t stop looking at the bridge,’ Alex marvelled. ‘All those buildings crowded onto it, making it seem so top-heavy. I keep thinking that it’ll collapse into the water, but it doesn’t. It’s miraculous.’

‘True,’ Gino agreed. ‘But then, all Florence is miraculous. Sixty per cent of the great art in the world is in Italy, and fifty per cent of that is in Florence. Because for the last few centuries—’

Alex hardly heard what he was saying. She was fascinated by him. Where else, she wondered, would a farmer lecture her about art?

But this was Florence, home of the Renaissance, which had produced men who were many sided, with subtle, wide-ranging minds.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said suddenly. ‘Am I becoming a bore?’

‘Not at all. You made me think of Renaissance man. I guess he’s still around all these generations later.’

‘Of course. That is our pride. Not that Rinaldo thinks so. He never raises his head from the land. But I think a man should have the soul of an artist even if he does get his hands dirty.’

She smiled, wondering exactly how dirty Gino’s hands ever were. With Rinaldo she could believe it. He seemed to be a part of the very earth itself.

Gino regarded her sympathetically. ‘I had thought to show you the Duomo after lunch, but—’

‘Could we do that another time?’ she begged. ‘I couldn’t cope with a cathedral just now.’

‘Fine, let’s find something less virtuous but far more fun.’

‘Such as what?’ she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

‘Horse riding?’ he asked innocently. ‘Why, what did you think I meant?’

Her lips twitched. ‘Never mind. I’d love to go riding.’

Gino’s glance met hers. His eyes flashed with humour, seeming to say that, yes, he’d been thinking exactly what she thought he was thinking. But that could come later.

Since she had no riding clothes a quick shopping trip was necessary. Gino had a nice eye for women’s fashion, and refused to let her make a final choice until he had approved it.

At last, when she was wearing olive green trousers and a cream shirt, he nodded, saying, ‘Perfect with your colouring. That’s the one.’

While she paid he fetched his car to the shop. In a few minutes they were on their way out of Florence, leading north to the hills.

At a small livery stable Gino hired a couple of horses, and they set off over the countryside. Alex was soon at home on the unfamiliar mare, who had a sweet disposition and a soft mouth.

After a good gallop they stopped in a village. The local inn had a garden, and they sat there eating fresh-baked bread and strong cheese.

‘I love riding, but I haven’t done any for a while,’ Alex said with a sigh. ‘This is wonderful.’

For the first time in days she felt totally relaxed and contented. The wildness of the scenery was alien to her, yet somehow it made her feel good.

David, she was sure, would never feel at ease here. His riding was done in the extensive grounds of his country house, on elegant animals from his own stables.

She realised suddenly that she hadn’t spoken to him since she arrived. When she’d called his mobile phone had been switched off, so she had left a message.

She reached into her jacket pocket and checked her own phone, finding that it too was off. She wondered when she had done that.

She found a message from David to say that he’d called her back but been unable to get through. She dialled and found herself talking to his answering machine. After leaving a message she switched off again, returned the phone to her jacket, and looked up to find Gino watching her.

‘Is he your lover?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry, I had no right to ask. But it’s important to me to know.’

‘You just want to know if I’m going to bring reinforcements out here?’

Gino shook his head. ‘No, that’s not what I meant. I have other reasons.’

His eyes told her what those reasons were. Alex did not speak. She wasn’t sure what she would have said about David right now.

‘You’re like Rinaldo,’ Gino said. ‘He plays his cards close to his chest too.’

‘Don’t you dare say I’m like him!’ she cried in mock indignation. ‘He has no manners, and he acts like a juggernaut.’

‘He really got under your skin last night, didn’t he?’

‘So he told you that? And how much of this meeting will you tell him about?’

She was teasing and he answered in the same vein. ‘Not all of it.’

‘Make sure he knows that I can be a juggernaut too.’

‘I’ll bet you made it plain to him yourself.’

She laughed. ‘Come to think of it, yes I did.’

‘You’ve got a lot of power, and he doesn’t like other people having power, especially over him.’

‘Well, it’ll all be sorted out soon.’

‘But how? You want your money.’

‘Hey, there’s no need to make me sound mercenary—even if Rinaldo thinks I am.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. But if we can’t raise the money soon there’ll be plenty who can, not just Montelli. Have any of the others approached you?’

Alex regarded him with her head on one side.

‘Gino,’ she teased, ‘why don’t you just tell Rinaldo not to treat me like a fool? Say you’ve had a wasted day.’

Gino’s eyes gleamed.

‘But the day isn’t over yet. And, though you may not believe it, the mortgage seems less important by the minute. There are so many other things about you that matter more.’

She gave him a smiling glance, but didn’t answer in words.

They rode quietly back to the stables in the setting sun. Gino said little as he drove her back to Florence, but as he drew up outside the hotel he said, ‘May I take you to dinner tonight?’

She couldn’t resist saying, ‘To make sure that nobody else does?’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘No,’ he said simply. ‘Not for that reason.’

She just stopped herself from saying, ‘And pigs fly!’ He was a nice lad, and she was going to enjoy flirting the evening away with him. It would be different if she were fooled by his caressing ways, but she wasn’t. Her heart was safe, and so, she was sure, was his.

There would be no disloyalty to David, and she might learn something useful in the coming battle.

‘I’ll believe you,’ she teased. ‘Thousands wouldn’t.’

They settled that he would collect her at eight o’clock, which gave her time to find something to wear. She had thought herself well equipped with clothes, but the hotel’s shopping arcade had a boutique with the latest lines from Milan.

With leisure to steep herself in Italian fashion she discovered it was unlike anything she had known before. She stepped into the shop, telling herself that she would just take a quick look. When she stepped out again she was the proud owner of a dark blue silk dress, demure in the front and low in the back, clinging on the hips.

His eyebrows went up when he saw her in the daring dress, complete with diamond earrings.

‘Signorina,’ he said softly, ‘to be seen with you is an honour.’

Alex couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.

‘What?’ he asked in comic dismay.

‘I’m sorry,’ she choked. ‘But I can’t keep a straight face when you start that “signorina” stuff. I wish you’d just call me Alex, and remember that you’re far more appealing when you’re not trying so hard.’

‘Does that mean you do find me appealing sometimes?’ he asked with comical pathos.

‘Are you going to feed me, or are we going to stand here talking all night?’ she asked severely.

‘I’m going to feed you,’ he said hastily. ‘I’ve booked us a table in a place very near here. Can you walk in those shoes?’

Her long legs ended in delicate silver sandals, with high heels.

‘Of course I can,’ she told him. ‘It’s just a question of balance.’ She added significantly, ‘And I’m very good at doing a balancing act.’

It was a perfect evening as they strolled down to the banks of the Arno and across the Ponte Vecchio. Alex paused to look into the shops that lined the bridge. There had been goldsmiths here for centuries, and their wares were still displayed in gorgeous profusion.

As at lunchtime, they ate near the river. Now the daylight was fading, the lamps were coming on, reflected in the water, and there was a new kind of magic.

Gino was also a perfect host, surrounding her with a cocoon of comfort and consideration, entertaining her with funny stories.

She made him talk about the farm and his life there, while she ate her way through chicken liver canapés, noodles with hare sauce, and Bistecca al la Fiorentina, a charbroiled steak.

‘It’s been cooked this way since the fourteenth century,’ Gino explained. ‘The legend says that the town magistrates used to cook it themselves in the Palazzo Vecchio, if it was a busy day. It saved going home for lunch.’

‘You made that up.’

‘I swear I didn’t. I don’t say that it’s true, but it’s the legend.’

‘And a good legend can be as powerful as the truth,’ Alex mused.

He nodded. ‘More. Because the legend tells you what people want to believe.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘Like your brother wants to believe in me as a Wicked Witch.’

Gino regarded her wryly. ‘Do you know how often you do that?’ he asked.

‘Do what?’

‘Bring the conversation back to Rinaldo. You’ve convinced yourself that he’s pulling my strings, and I feel as though you don’t really see me at all. You’re looking over my shoulder at him all the time.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just—well, perhaps you should blame him. I’m sure he likes to think of himself as pulling your strings—everyone’s strings. Somehow, one takes him at his own estimation.’

‘That’s true,’ he said with a rueful sigh. ‘Let’s have some champagne.’

He turned to call the waiter, leaving Alex to reflect. She was shaken by the realisation that Gino was right. While she smiled and flirted with him, Rinaldo seemed to be constantly there, an unseen but dominant presence.

When the champagne had arrived he began to reminisce once more about his childhood.

‘I’ll never forget the day my father brought me to Florence for the carnival in the streets. We went through it together, visiting all the stalls. He was as much a kid as I was. At least, that’s what my mother always said.’

‘How old were you when she died?’

‘Eight.’

‘How sad! And your father never remarried?’

‘No, he said he never would, and he stuck to that until his own death.’

‘Your father sounds like a delightful person,’ she said warmly.

‘He was. Of course, Rinaldo thought he was too frivolous, always joking when he should have been serious. Poppa would tease him and say, “Lighten up, the world is a better place than you think”.’

‘Now you’re doing it,’ she told him. ‘Bringing the conversation back to Rinaldo.’

‘I know. As you say, it’s hard not to.’

‘What did he used to say when your father teased him like that?’

‘Nothing, he’d just scowl and remember something that had to be done somewhere else. I’ll swear nothing matters to him but work.’

‘Well, I suppose that’s good in a way,’ Alex said. ‘The work has to be done.’

‘Hey, I do my share. It’s just that, like Poppa, I believe in having fun too.’

‘Has Rinaldo always been gloomy?’

‘He’s always been serious, but it’s really only since his wife died that he’s actually been morose.’

‘His wife?’ Alex echoed, startled.

‘Yes, her name was Maria. She came from Fiesole, a tiny little town near here. They were childhood sweethearts. I think they got engaged when they were fifteen. They married when they were twenty.’

‘What was she like?’ Alex asked curiously.

She was trying to imagine the kind of woman who would attract Rinaldo, but she found it hard to picture him in love.

‘She was pretty and plump and motherly. You’d probably call her old-fashioned because all she wanted was to look after us. My mother was dead by then, so it was really nice having her.’

‘Is that why he married her?’ Alex asked, scandalised. ‘To have a woman about the place?’

Gino grinned.

‘Oh no! He was crazy about her. It was Poppa and me who needed motherly attention. I was ten years old. Maria was a great cook, and that’s really all a ten-year-old boy cares about. She and Rinaldo seemed very happy. I used to see him come up behind her, put his arms about her and nuzzle her neck. He was a changed man. He laughed.’

‘What happened?’

‘They were going to have a baby, but it was born at seven months and both mother and child died.’

‘Oh, heavens!’ Alex whispered in horror. ‘How long ago was that?’

‘Fifteen years. They’d been married for less than two years.’

‘How awful for him. To be so young and watch his wife die—’

‘It was worse than that. He wasn’t there. Nobody expected the baby to come so soon, and he was away buying machinery. Poppa called him as soon as things started to happen and he rushed back, but he was too late.

‘I was there in the hospital when he arrived, and I’ll never forget the sight of him. He’d driven all night, and he looked like a madman, with wild eyes. When the doctor told him Maria was dead he wouldn’t believe it. He rushed into her room and seized her up in his arms.

‘I’d never seen him cry before. I didn’t think it was possible, but he was off his head.

‘At that stage the baby was still alive, but not expected to live. They baptised him quickly. He wanted to hold him, but he couldn’t because he had to stay in the incubator. It was no use though. He died half an hour later.

‘By that time he’d calmed down but it was almost worse than when he was raving. He was in a trance, just staring and not seeing anything. He got through the funeral like that—just one funeral, with them both in the same coffin. It was almost as though he didn’t know what was happening.

‘Since then he never speaks of them. If I try to mention them he just blanks me out. I’m not sure what he feels now. Probably nothing. He seems to have deadened that side of him.’

‘Can any man do that?’ Alex mused.

‘Rinaldo can. He can do whatever he sets his mind to. Why should he want to go through such pain again?’

‘But surely it could never happen again? No man could be so unlucky twice.’

‘I think he’s decided not to take a chance on it. Since Maria died the farm has been his whole life. Poppa left the running of it to him.’

‘What about you?’

Gino gave his attractive boyish grin.

‘Theoretically I have as much authority as my brother, but Rinaldo’s a great one for letting you know who’s the meat and who’s the potatoes. His being so much older helps, of course.’

There was something slightly mechanical about Alex’s smile. She no longer felt able to joke about Rinaldo. The image of the overbearing dictator that had dominated her thoughts had suddenly become blurred.

There was another image now, a young man agonising over the death of his wife and child, then growing older too fast, hardening in his despair.

‘Are you all right?’ Gino asked as she rubbed her hand over her eyes.

‘Yes, I’m just a little tired. I’m not used to so much heat.’

‘Let me take you back to the hotel.’

The night air was blessedly cool as they strolled back. To her relief he seemed in tune with her mood, and did not talk.

At the door of the hotel he took her hand and said, ‘I’d ask to see you again, but you’d only think Rinaldo put me up to it. So I won’t.’