The Padova Perals Page 8

  As soon as they had been seated, he vanished, only to return almost immediately with a napkin-covered trolley that held a bottle of vintage champagne in an ice bucket and two crystal flutes.

  ‘With Signor Verdi’s compliments.’

  He untwisted the wire, eased out the cork with a satisfying pop and poured the smoking wine, before slipping quietly away.

  ‘Signor Verdi seems to think it’s a special occasion…’ Sophia ventured.

  When Stephen said nothing, she persisted, ‘Why does he? What did you tell him to make him think that?’

  ‘I mentioned that it was your first time in Venice,’ he replied smoothly.

  Frowning, she asked, ‘If that’s all, why did he congratulate you?’

  ‘Because I told him what I told you at A Volonté—that I’d found just the woman I needed.’

  She had the strangest feeling that, though his answer was no doubt truthful as far as it went, it was in reality a sophism designed to hide the truth.

  But why should he want to hide the truth?

  Before she could speculate any further, Stephen raised his glass in a toast. ‘Here’s to us…May our relationship have a successful outcome.’

  No doubt he meant a working relationship, Sophia thought as she lifted her glass and sipped the excellent champagne.

  She was about to ask him how many paintings were involved, when the waiter brought their first course.

  It was a fish mousse, so light and delicate it seemed a sacrilege to talk, so she fell silent and simply enjoyed it.

  The second course of pasta and prawns in a delectable asparagus sauce was, if anything, even better, and the tiramisu that followed was out of this world.

  Crisp, wafer-thin biscuits with creamy dolcelatte and a rich, fragrant coffee rounded off the best meal Sophia could ever remember having.

  While they ate, very little had been said, and they were drinking their coffee before Stephen broke the silence to ask, ‘I hope the food came up to your expectations?’

  ‘Everything was absolutely delicious. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a meal so much.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ he admitted. ‘Of course one’s companion makes a lot of difference. In my opinion good food should be savoured, and it’s a pleasure to dine with a woman who doesn’t feel the need to talk all the time.’

  She was greatly relieved that he hadn’t found her quietness boring.

  ‘So, apart from the food, what do you think of the Rizanti?’

  She smiled up at him. ‘It’s really special. I’m not surprised that it’s one of your favourite restaurants. Have you known it for a long time?’

  Taking a sip of his drink he replied. ‘Yes…It’s a family owned business. I can remember my aunt bringing me here for a treat when I was quite a small child, and Carlo’s father giving me my first sip of Chianti.’

  ‘Did you like it?’

  ‘I pretended to, but Aunt Fran must have guessed how I really felt, because as soon as Carlo’s father had gone she gave me a sweet to take away the taste. I decided there and then that I would never drink wine when I grew up.’

  Smiling, Sophia said, ‘Your aunt sounds nice. What was she like?’

  Stephen sat back in his seat and thought for a moment. ‘Kind-hearted, good-tempered, incurably honest, businesslike when necessary, yet romantic, a dreamer of dreams. A gentle, compassionate woman—though anything but weak—a woman who gave more than she took, and loved more than she hated.

  ‘She had a passion for books and art and music, and she played the piano extremely well. Whenever I saw her she appeared to be smiling and serene, but there was a certain sadness about her, as if life hadn’t given her what she most wanted.’

  Sophia found herself enchanted by his description. ‘You were fond of her?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Am I right in thinking your aunt and uncle had no children of their own?’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re wrong, as it happens. Gina is their daughter.’

  ‘Oh…’ Sophia was surprised and showed it. ‘Then the Marquise is your cousin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  That explained the closeness between them, and why Gina had lived at the Palazzo.

  ‘So presumably you played together as children?’

  ‘Not exactly. You see there’s something of an age gap, so at first Gina regarded me as a nuisance and gave me a wide berth. It was only as I grew older that, during my visits to Venice, we spent time together and really got to know one another…’

  While she listened, Sophia found herself puzzling over what Stephen had just told her. If Gina was the daughter of his aunt and uncle, why hadn’t she inherited the Palazzo…? Unless…

  Watching Sophia’s absorbed face, the slight frown that creased her smooth forehead, he offered, ‘A penny for your thoughts.’

  A little flustered, she half shook her head.

  ‘So you won’t sell, huh? Oh, well, it doesn’t really matter; I can guess what you’re thinking…’

  When she said nothing, he went on, ‘You were wondering why the Palazzo was left to me rather than to Gina…Have you reached any conclusion?’

  Flushing because he had so easily read her thoughts, she demurred, ‘I’m sure you must think it’s none of my business.’

  ‘If I thought that, I wouldn’t be discussing it with you.’

  When, his eyes fixed on her face, he waited, she found herself saying, ‘I can only presume that they wanted, or family tradition demanded, a male heir.’

  ‘It’s quite true that Paolo, in particular, had hoped for a son and, if they’d had one, things might have been different…Though inheriting the Palazzo isn’t contingent on being a male. Aunt Fran inherited it from her parents.’

  ‘Oh…Then why—?’ She stopped short.

  He answered her unfinished question. ‘In this case, it was to carry on the Fortuna blood line. You see, Paolo, who was ten years older than Aunt Fran, was a widower when they met, and Gina was the daughter of his first marriage…’

  Stephen paused to refill both their coffee cups before going on. ‘He was an extraordinarily handsome man and had a great deal of charm—when he cared to use it—but there was a less pleasant side to him, and he was far from easy to live with.’

  ‘Did your aunt and her stepdaughter get on well?’ Sophia asked.

  ‘Unfortunately not. Though Aunt Fran did her best, Gina bitterly opposed her father’s second marriage and hated the thought of any other woman taking her mother’s place.

  ‘In the end she made herself so obnoxious that even her father grew tired of the endless scenes and threatened to send her away to school if her behaviour didn’t improve.

  ‘On the surface things quietened down, but she blamed her stepmother for the ultimatum and her hatred and resentment grew and poisoned any possible relationship between them.

  ‘All in all, she was an unhappy child and, young as I was, I remember feeling sorry for her.’

  Sophia listened intently. ‘Did matters between her and her stepmother improve as she got older?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not really. Fortunately the Palazzo is a big place and for most of the time she and Aunt Fran lived under the same roof they managed to avoid each other.

  ‘On the few social occasions they were forced to meet, they were studiously polite to one another. No more, no less.

  ‘However, with her own suite and a generous allowance, Gina was satisfied with things as they were, that is until her father first took ill.

  ‘She was used to a life of luxury and had no intention of giving it up if she could help it. But the thought of how her situation might change if anything happened to her father worried her a good deal.

  ‘That’s why, when the Marquis d’Orsini proposed, she decided to accept him.’

  ‘You mean she married him for his money?’ Sophia recognized the shocked tone in her voice too late to mask her disapproval.

  Stephen raised an eyebrow. ‘I gather you don’t a
pprove?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said at once. ‘A spot of honesty is like a breath of fresh air.’

  Then, incisively, ‘So you don’t believe in marrying for money?’

  Shaking her head, Sophia replied emphatically. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I can’t imagine it would make either partner happy.’ She played with the stem of her wineglass as she revealed her thoughts, hoping Stephan wouldn’t think her too judgemental.

  ‘In this case it didn’t.’

  Almost sadly, he added, ‘Gina might have been happy had she chosen to marry the man who, at the time, was in love with her.

  ‘He would have done anything for her, but at that point he was young and untried and had very little money of his own. Added to that, she knew his family disliked her and might well disown him if he went ahead and made her his wife.

  ‘He would have chanced it, but she was afraid to, so when the marquis offered her marriage, though he was thirty-five years her senior, and a lecher to boot, she was fool enough to accept…

  ‘At first he treated her like royalty and lavished gifts on her but, as soon as the honeymoon period was over, everything changed and he started to make her life hell…’

  Hearing the bitterness in his voice, Sophia realized that, in spite of everything, Stephen cared about his cousin.

  Gently, she said, ‘I’m sorry things went badly.’

  ‘You have a kind heart. Most people would say she’d brought it on herself. Which, in all honesty, she had. But no one deserves a life like that…’

  Grimly, he went on, ‘The sadistic old devil treated her as if she were a bought woman rather than his wife. For eight years she was forced to put up with all the indignities he heaped on her, as well as his numerous affairs.

  ‘When he died recently, I don’t think anyone could have blamed her for being relieved…’

  So the Marquise was a widow. ‘She had looked forward to being wealthy and to owning Ca’ d’Orsini, but instead she found she had only been left a meagre allowance and the use of the house during her lifetime, both of those to be forfeited if she married again…’

  A shade cynically, he added, ‘Which means she needs another rich husband.’

  ‘But surely after so much unhappiness—’ Sophia abruptly stopped speaking.

  ‘You mean she should have learnt her lesson? Sadly some people never do. However, she may be a great deal luckier next time.

  ‘Tell me, Sophia—’ leaning forward he studied her intently ‘—if you don’t intend to marry for money, what will you marry for?’

  Looking into the handsome face so close to hers, she was struck dumb. The candlelight picked out the planes and hollows, the well marked brows and sweep of thick blond lashes, the high cheekbones and strong nose, the chiselled mouth, with its combination of austerity and passion, and the cleft chin she longed to touch…

  After a long moment he reminded her, ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

  Unable to tear her gaze away, she whispered, ‘Love,’ and felt her cheeks grow warm.

  ‘Romantic, as well as honest.’

  Sensing mockery, she flashed, ‘Well, if not for love, what would you marry for?’

  Taking the wind out of her sails, he reached for her hand and held it fast. ‘Though it doesn’t necessarily guarantee the marriage will be successful, I believe that love, especially when combined with respect and genuine caring, offers by far the best chance of happiness.

  ‘Aunt Fran thought so too, but sadly those elements were missing from her own marriage, and it proved to be far from happy.’

  Wits scattered by the way his thumb was stroking over her soft palm, Sophia pulled her hand free and blurted out, ‘So it wasn’t just problems with her stepdaughter?’

  ‘No…Had it been just that, I believe she would have taken it in her stride. But right from the start Paolo proved to be arrogant and uncaring.

  ‘Then one night he got drunk and let slip the fact that he’d only married her to get his hands on the Palazzo and the priceless Padova Pearls, which had been in the family for generations.

  ‘Armed with that knowledge, she determined to make certain that if she died first he got neither, and she willed them both away from him.’ Stephan went on. ‘Realizing what a bad mistake he’d made, he swore he hadn’t meant it, but when she refused to alter the will he walked out, taking Gina with him.

  ‘After a while he came back, just briefly, to see if she’d changed her mind. Finding she hadn’t, he left again, apparently for good.

  ‘The rest of the family wanted her to divorce him, but Aunt Fran didn’t believe in divorce and refused.

  ‘Everyone thought they’d finally seen the last of him, but after about eighteen months he reappeared again and begged for a second chance.

  ‘Very much against her family’s wishes, she took him and his daughter back.

  ‘He did his best to make amends and for a time they seemed somewhat happier. But he badly wanted a child, presumably so it could inherit the two things he coveted,’ he said coldly.

  ‘Aunt Fran wanted a child too, but when that didn’t happen she accepted it as God’s will.

  ‘Paolo didn’t. He blamed her, and wanted her to go for tests. When she flatly refused, he went himself to prove the point.

  ‘But the tests indicated that it was he who had a problem. Since fathering Gina, he had developed a medical condition which made him unable to father any more children.

  ‘That knowledge, rather than improving matters, seemed to make things worse, and their marriage became just a sham. He used to fly into drunken rages and break things and more than once Aunt Fran was forced to take refuge with Rosa and Roberto.

  ‘However, because of her views on divorce, she and Paolo remained together.’ Stephen raked a hand through his hair. ‘But, though Aunt Fran herself must have been anything but happy, she said that, in the past, the Palazzo had always been a happy place and in the future would make a happy home for me.

  ‘Now, because of her untimely death, I’m here a lot sooner than I’d expected.’

  Sophia was fascinated by his story. ‘And you’re intending to stay?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said decidedly. ‘Apart from an occasional trip to the States, now I have a good right-hand man I can trust implicitly, experienced managers in key positions and all the benefits of modern technology, I should be able to run things quite successfully from here.’

  The news sounded like a death knell. If he was planning to live in Venice permanently, when her job here was finished it was unlikely that she would ever see him again…

  ‘Something wrong?’ His voice broke into her decidedly gloomy thoughts.

  ‘No…No, nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?’

  ‘You looked as if something had upset you.’

  ‘No, of course not. I’m fine. Just a bit tired.’

  Glancing at his watch, he said, ‘You must be. It’s later than I’d realized, and you’ve had a long day.’

  Signalling a waiter, he asked, ‘Can you rustle up a taxi?’

  ‘Certainly, Signor Haviland.’

  By the time they had thanked Carlo for his hospitality and said their goodnights, there was a water-taxi waiting alongside the steps that led down from the fondamenta.

  As soon as Stephen had helped her in and taken a seat by her side, they were underway.

  It was cooler now and the breeze of their passing made her shiver a little.

  Feeling that involuntary movement, Stephen slipped out of his jacket and put it around her shoulders. It still held the warmth of his body and she breathed in the clean masculine scent of him as she held the lapels together over her chest.

  Though there were still plenty of people about, some of the cafés and restaurants were starting to close and, apart from the odd gondola, the smaller canals they traversed were practically deserted.

  At a junction they were hel
d up by traffic lights, then they were off again, moving quickly, so that all Sophia could gather were fleeting impressions.

  Patches of light and shade, moving shapes and shadows, a lantern’s rays reflected in dark water, the door of an old boathouse with rotting wood like jagged black teeth, a cat slinking past, then the sudden gleam of its eyes as it looked at them…

  ‘Won’t be long now,’ Stephen remarked.

  Belatedly she recognized the canal that ran alongside the Palazzo and a moment or two later they were pulling in to the lighted boathouse.

  Having helped her on to the landing stage, Stephen paid the taxi driver and wished him a cheerful, ‘Buona notte.’

  As the boat revved up and departed, he turned to her and said with a grin, ‘It’s a shame to disturb the servants at this time of night, so stand still while I rifle your pocket for the key.’

  He moved closer and began to feel in the right hand pocket of the jacket she was still wearing.

  As she stood looking up at him, the breath caught in her throat, he said softly, ‘If you look at me like that, you’re just asking to be kissed.’

  ‘Oh, but I—’

  The words died as he took advantage of her parted lips. Though his kiss was light, this time there was nothing experimental about it. Now it was a man kissing a woman he knew wanted to be kissed.

  After a moment or so his arms went around her and, drawing her close, he deepened the kiss until her knees were weak, her head was spinning and her very soul was his for the taking.

  Eventually he reluctantly lifted his head and, without a word, turned the key in the lock and, an arm about her shoulders, led her inside and closed the door behind them.

  They crossed the servants’ hall, their footsteps echoing hollowly in the stillness, and took a passageway dimly lit by wall sconces through to the family living quarters.

  The blood thrumming in her veins, Sophia felt a breathless anticipation, a mixture of excitement and elation that met and matched his unspoken urgency.

  When they reached the sitting-room, where several standard lamps were casting pools of golden light, still without a word being spoken, he slipped the jacket from her shoulders and tossed it aside, before taking her in his arms and starting to kiss her again.