An Engagement of Convenience Page 4

  ‘No,’ she said quickly, and turned towards the open doorway. ‘Let’s go inside.’

  Indoors, in the warm light from the lamps in the salon, Harriet was composed enough to smile politely into Leo’s watchful face as she resumed her place on the sofa.

  ‘Will I know all the guests at the party tomorrow?’ she asked, determinedly conversational. Rosa had made a list of likely people, and described their background and relationships, but if Leo had any helpful information Harriet was keen to add it to her research.

  ‘Mainly the family and a few of Nonna’s friends. Why? Will that bore you?’ he asked cuttingly.

  Harriet shook her head, determined, if it killed her, to keep things pleasant. ‘No. But it’s years since I was here. I’m worried I won’t remember everybody.’

  Leo gave her a smile which raised the hairs along her spine. ‘In that case, little cousin, I shall stay very close at all times to whisper reminders in your ear.’

  ‘Bravo,’ approved Signora Fortinari, coming to join them. ‘It is good to see you together, friends again.’

  ‘For you, Nonna, anything that makes you happy,’ declared Leo. ‘But now I must leave. I have many things to do before I seek my lonely bed.’

  His grandmother reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Try to seek it a little earlier tonight, my love.’

  He laughed affectionately, and patted her hand. ‘Have no fear, Nonna. I shall make sure that Dante, Mirella and Franco all arrive in good time tomorrow.’

  ‘Such a pity that your mother and father are in California,’ sighed the signora. ‘But I absolutely forbade them to cut short their holiday.’ A sudden smile lit the magnificent dark eyes. ‘And to make up for their absence I have Rosa.’

  ‘For which, of course, we all rejoice,’ said Leo smoothly, and moved to stand over Harriet. ‘Good night, cousin. I shall see you tomorrow.’

  She tensed, afraid for a split second that he intended to kiss her. Instead he raised her hand to his lips, looking into her eyes to gauge her reaction as he deliberately touched his tongue to her hot skin.

  She pulled her hand away and bade him a very husky good night, her colour heightened. With a look of triumph in his eyes he bowed gracefully, turned away to embrace his grandmother, then left them alone together.

  Vittoria Fortinari turned to Harriet with a happy sigh. ‘Now, darling, what would you like to drink before we go to bed?’

  Harriet had trouble in getting to sleep that night, her wakefulness nothing to do with the fear of discovery, or the strange bed, or even nerves about the party. The problem was Leo Fortinari. For some reason she’d taken it for granted she would feel as hostile towards him as Rosa did. It had never occurred to her that she would be so powerfully attracted to him. On the moonlit loggia it had taken every last scrap of will-power she possessed to withstand the persuasion of his mouth and skilled, arousing fingertips. Harriet shivered, her face burning as she felt her nipples rise and harden against the silk of Rosa’s nightgown. If he’d kissed her mouth... She flipped over in the bed, her hands clenched in the pillow as she burrowed her face into it.

  What was Leonardo Fortinari up to? she thought stormily. According to Rosa he had been the deciding factor in her exile from Fortino all these years. And right up to the little interlude on the loggia his attitude had shown small sign of change. Which had made his lovemaking all the more shocking. Harriet gritted her teeth. Her main worry now was nothing to do with the guests at the party, only the fact that Leo had promised—or threatened—to stay close by her side all night to supply the missing names. A prospect which did nothing at all for her insomnia.

  Vittoria Fortinari’s birthday dawned bright and sunny, chilly enough at the Villa’s altitude for Harriet to put on one of Rosa’s sweaters over her shirt and jeans to eat breakfast. She stole downstairs, holding a large shiny carrier bag behind her back, and met Silvia in the hall, carrying a large tray into the salon.

  ‘Good morning. The signora will be with you in a moment,’ gasped the plump little woman, as she put the tray down on a table. ‘She ordered breakfast in here just for today. The dining room is ready for the party.’

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’ asked Harriet, hiding the bag behind a chair.

  Silvia looked doubtful. ‘But the signora—’

  ‘I’d like to help,’ said Harriet firmly.

  ‘In what way, exactly?’ asked Vittoria Fortinari, hurrying into the room. ‘Good morning, darling. You can bring the coffee in now, Silvia, please.’

  ‘Good morning, and happy, happy birthday,’ said Harriet, kissing Rosa’s grandmother with an affection she found remarkably easy. Her own grandmother would have pushed her away irritably if she’d tried anything so demonstrative.

  ‘Thank you, Rosa.’ Vittoria beamed, looking so happy Harriet banished all her qualms about the impersonation and set herself to make the day as special for Rosa’s grandmother as possible.

  They sat down with plates on their knees in picnic fashion, the older woman obviously enjoying the novelty as they ate slices of melon and ate hot rolls fresh from the bakery in the village before finishing all the coffee Silvia brought them. While they ate Harriet volunteered her skill at table-laying, and at folding napkins into flower shapes, skills Vittoria took to be part of Rosa’s training at the Hermitage, but which had actually been acquired in less exalted catering establishments during Harriet’s university vacations.

  ‘I really would like to help,’ said Harriet, meaning it on her own behalf, and at the same time hoping the offer would win points for Rosa.

  ‘Then you shall,’ said the signora fondly. ‘I can set a table well enough, but transforming napkins into flowers is beyond me, alas. And certainly beyond Silvia and the helpers we’ve brought in from the village. ’

  Once Silvia had cleared away, Harriet reached behind her chair for the large scarlet bag and handed it over. ‘Happy birthday again, Nonna.’

  Signora Fortinari received the bag with girlish excitement, exclaiming at the number of parcels inside. Knowing that Rosa had taken endless time and care to think of a gift that would please her grandmother most, Harriet watched, feeling tense on Rosa’s behalf, as Vittoria unwrapped a box and lifted the lid, then stared down at its contents with eyes which filled with tears she dashed instantly away. She took out the photograph with unsteady hands, one finger smoothing the chased silver frame as she gazed down at the faces of her daughter and son-in-law, taken only a month before the air crash.

  Rosa had taken the photograph herself on her parents’ last anniversary. Happy and smiling on a sunlit afternoon on the beach where the family had gathered for a picnic, the couple were laughing at the camera, their arms around each other.

  For a moment, as she watched, Harriet experienced a painful sense of intrusion. Then she forced herself back into the role she was playing, and cleared her throat. ‘I thought you’d like to remember them like that. I hope it hasn’t made you sad.’

  Rosa’s grandmother put the photograph down very gently, then embraced Harriet, kissing her tenderly. ‘Such a beautiful thought, Rosa. Thank you, my darling. ’

  ‘Open the rest, then,’ commanded Harriet huskily. ‘Another one from me, and one each from Tony and Allegra.’

  Rosa’s second gift was a cashmere sweater and long cardigan in a subtle shade of rose pink, and Signora Fortinari promptly tried on the cardigan, and pronounced it perfect. She kept it on as she unwrapped Tony’s present, which was a set of photograph frames, but in gold leaf and empty this time, ready to frame studies of the new little Mostyn when he arrived.

  ‘They know it is a son?’ said the prospective great-grandmother in wonder.

  ‘Modern technology, Nonna,’ said Harriet.

  Allegra’s present was a whole range of wickedly expensive skin-care products, which Tony, according to Rosa, had considered a rather strange present for a woman of eighty. When Harriet told the birthday girl this she laughed delightedly.

  ‘Men! Allegra chose well. I se
e no reason why age should prevent me from pampering my skin.’

  The rest of the day passed swiftly. Harriet was admitted to the large kitchen, where a crowd of voluble women gave the visitor a warm welcome as they began on the final preparations. Harriet helped lay a vast, damask cloth on the long table in the dining room, then began fashioning the matching napkins into lily and rosebud shapes which won the extravagant admiration of Silvia and her crew as they stacked plates and silverware at one end of the table, to leave room for the great platters of food they had taken days to prepare for the event.

  And when floral birthday tributes arrived for Signora Fortinari at regular intervals, Harriet won everyone’s gratitude by arranging them in artistic displays to decorate the salon and the hall, and as a spectacular centrepiece for the table.

  Because the day was warm enough to eat lunch out on the loggia Harriet insisted on serving it there herself to free Silvia for more pressing duties.

  ‘You have changed so much, Rosa,’ said Vittoria Fortinari, leaning back in a cane chair as she smiled at Harriet.

  ‘I’ve grown up,’ said Harriet soberly. Which was true enough, of both Rosa and herself. In different ways very difficult as teenagers, she felt that both of them had grown into women with more responsibility and gravitas than either of their families had ever dared hope at one time. She paused in the act of pouring coffee, seized by a sudden surge of anticipation as she heard an engine growling up the bends of the road towards the villa.

  ‘Dante!’ said the signora, to Harriet’s disappointment. Vittoria Fortinari beamed as a scarlet motor cycle streaked perilously through the stone pillars below and roared up the garden to come to a spectacular halt at the foot of the stone steps. A smaller, younger, and more beautiful version of Leo vaulted from it and ran up the stairs towards them, stopping in front of the signora with a low, flourishing bow, before seizing her in his arms and giving her a resounding kiss on both cheeks.

  ‘Happy birthday, Nonna,’ he said, in lighter, more musical tones than his brother, then turned to eye Harriet with open appreciation. ‘And this, of course, is the famous Rosa!’

  Harriet was beginning to think that Rosa had been dangerously economical with the details of her youthful transgression. For a moment she eyed the slim figure in black leather quizzically, then gave him a friendly smile and held out her hand.

  ‘And this is the famous Dante.’

  Dante laughed delightedly, took the hand in his and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘You were only ten when I saw you last, Rosa,’ he said, eyes dancing. ‘You were all eyes and braids. And permanently in trouble.’

  ‘Not any more,’ she assured him. At least, not if she could possibly help it.

  ‘Leo said I should wait until tonight to meet you again,’ he said cheerfully, ‘but I was impatient to see if you had improved since I saw you last, Rosa. And you have!’

  ‘Many thanks,’ said Harriet dryly.

  ‘Impudent boy,’ said his grandmother lovingly. ‘Sit down and drink some coffee.’

  ‘In a moment,’ he promised, and went back down to the Ducati. He took a parcel from the pannier, then raced up the steps and went down on one knee in front of his grandmother. ‘For the love of my life,’ he said theatrically, and handed the present over.

  His grandmother tapped his cheek, laughing, then gave him a kiss and told him to get up and sit beside Rosa while she unwrapped her present Both women exclaimed in delight as she took out a black velvet stole lined with red silk, and Signora Fortinari got up at once to take it to her room before anything could spoil it.

  ‘So, Rosa, how are you enjoying your return to the fold?’ asked Dante without preamble, his dark eyes so obviously free of malice Harriet relaxed.

  ‘Very much. So far.’

  ‘Forgive my absence at dinner last night Leo sent me off on an errand to keep me out of the way.’ Dante grinned. ‘And having met you again I can see why! He wanted you to himself.’

  ‘I hardly think so,’ said Harriet, flushing.

  Dante shook his dark, glossy head. ‘If you mean all that old history, forget it, Rosa. Everyone else has.’

  ‘You weren’t here at the time,’ she reminded him.

  ‘No,’ he said regretfully. ‘I was visiting friends in Napa Valley, in California. I missed all the fun. But I heard all about it when I got back.’

  ‘I’m glad it gave everyone so much entertainment,’ said Harriet stiffly and Dante shook his head, abruptly serious.

  ‘Leo told only me, Rosa, because I came back just after you’d been sent home, and plagued him to tell me why he had a black eye. But otherwise the only one who knows what really happened, except Leo and Nonna, is Guido Bracco, of course. And he won’t be here tonight. He lives in New York now.’

  Something for which Harriet was profoundly grateful. Rosa had made no mention of Guido Bracco. Nor of Leo’s black eye.

  When his grandmother came back to join them Dante chatted amiably for a while then took his leave.

  ‘You must rest, Nonna, to look more beautiful than ever tonight, then we shall all come back this evening to help you celebrate.’

  Harriet stood with Vittoria Fortinari to wave as Dante kicked the Ducati into life and took off with the panache typical of his age and race.

  ‘Leave the coffee tray, Rosa,’ said Vittoria. ‘I must go up for my rest now, but first I want to see the dresses you brought.’

  ‘I hope my room’s tidy enough for you,’ joked Harriet, as they reached Rosa’s bedroom.

  ‘It is immaculate, darling!’ said Signora Fortinari, looking round. She sighed, her face falling into sudden lines. ‘When you were young I had to lecture you to keep your room tidy. But I shall never lecture you again.’

  ‘Which dress do you prefer, Nonna?’ said Harriet swiftly to divert her.

  The signora brightened as Harriet held up each dress in turn. One was long and narrow, in bronze double chiffon, with a deep V-shaped neckline held up by a handful of thin, satin strands on each shoulder. The other was a short, strapless sheath in stretchy black crepe, embroidered here and there with sprays of raised silk flowers.

  ‘They are both beautiful, darling!’ Vittoria gazed at each in turn, then back to Harriet. ‘I cannot decide.’

  ‘Are you wearing a long dress, Nonna?’

  ‘Yes. Black velvet, as Dante obviously knew, clever boy.’

  ‘Then I’ll wear a long one, too,’ said Harriet, preferring the bronze chiffon because it covered more and clung less than the tube dress.

  After Signora Fortinari had retired to her room to rest Harriet took a book down to the loggia, stretched out on a cane sofa, stuffed some cushions beneath her head and settled down to read, determined not to worry any more about what the evening might bring. So far no one in the family had unmasked her as an impostor, so it seemed unlikely anyone else would, either. Harriet smiled to herself at the melodrama of the idea, and settled down to enjoy the intricate plot, soon so involved that she failed to respond when someone called Rosa’s name.

  Alerted by a shadow on the page, she looked up to see Leonardo Fortinari gazing down at her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘It must be a very good book. I called your name twice.’

  Rosa’s name. She must be more careful.

  Smiling brightly, Harriet showed him the author’s photograph on the flyleaf. ‘She’s my favourite crime writer—I was lost to the world. Nonna’s resting in her room,’ she added. ‘Did you want her?’

  ‘Not at the moment,’ said Leo, and reached down to swing her legs to the floor so that he could sit beside her. ‘I want you.’

  Harriet jerked upright, making much show of arranging cushions. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘If I told you,’ he said, in a tone that sent colour rushing to her face. ‘You might blush even more deeply, little cousin.’

  ‘Leo, I don’t trust you in this mood,’ said Harriet suspiciously. ‘You were anything but friendly when I arrived. Why the c
hange?’

  He took her hand in his, and began smoothing a finger over it. ‘I was still thinking of Rosa as she was. But when I had time to observe you with Nonna, so much warmer and loving towards her, I saw you with new eyes. Rosa the woman, instead of the baby siren who miscalculated her knowledge of men so badly.’

  Heavens, thought Harriet with foreboding. What exactly had Rosa been up to all those years ago?

  ‘It’s a long time ago. People change,’ she said shortly, and detached her hand. ‘Dante came here earlier.’

  ‘I know. He told me.’ Leo locked his eyes with hers. ‘I forbid you to encourage Dante. If you practice your wiles on anyone, choose me. I am familiar with them, remember.’

  For a moment Harriet thought her Italian vocabulary had let her down. ‘Did I actually hear you say forbid?’ she demanded.

  ‘Yes, Rosa. You did.’

  Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘I came here for Nonna’s sake. Not to see you, nor to seduce Dante. Nor anyone else. I do have a life, Leo. Even though you’ve done your best to spoil it by influencing Nonna against me all these years. She admitted as much to me last night.’

  ‘I was determined to shield her from further hurt,’ he said curtly.

  ‘I doubt it was just that,’ said Harriet scornfully. ‘Tell the truth, Leo. You wanted me to suffer for my sins.’

  ‘I had my reasons. And you know them all!’ he cut back.

  If only she did, thought Harriet, so startled by a sudden, overpowering urge to kiss the pulse throbbing beside his mouth she jumped to her feet.

  Leo followed suit, barring her way into the house. ‘Rosa—’

  ‘Please,’ said Harriet breathlessly. ‘It’s Nonna’s birthday. I don’t want to fight with you, Leo.’

  His gave her a deeply unsettling smile. ‘I have no wish to fight, Rosa—I want to make love to you.’

  Harriet gazed up at him, mesmerised for a moment by the look in Leo Fortinari’s eyes. Then she turned away sharply. He hadn’t returned Rosa’s youthful passion, she reminded herself, so why the change towards her? But then, she wasn’t Rosa. She was someone Leo had no idea he’d never met until twenty four hours ago.