The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage

CHAPTER FIVE

THE following day a delicate bouquet was delivered to the villa, with a beautifully worded note from Marco, regretting that their delightful evening had been ‘so unfortunately cut short’. Harriet passed it to Lucia, who expressed her own opinion with a sound of disgust, but mercifully didn’t ask Harriet any questions. Her manner was that of a woman biding her time.

After two days Marco telephoned, inviting them both to lunch at the bank. The Orese Nationale had a private restaurant where the top levels of the hierarchy dined in exclusive grandeur, and where they entertained their most important guests. The two women were treated like queens, by Marco and some of his colleagues.

Lucia had been here three times before, but she was the only woman Marco had ever invited, until now. Harriet understood the implication, that none of his passing relationships had been so honoured. She’d meant to protest about his unchivalrous behaviour after the nightclub, but it was impossible in these circumstances. Lucia too was silenced, which might, she thought cynically, have been Marco’s idea.

Alfredo Orese couldn’t keep a secret, and the news was soon all over Rome that Marco had been seen at the nightclub with a new woman. But this one was different. She was staying with his mother, and she had dined at the bank. After that speculation raged, and came to more or less the right conclusion.

‘So now your engagement isn’t a secret,’ Lucia said with satisfaction some days later. They were sitting at breakfast, Marco having arrived late the night before, and slept over.

Harriet looked at her quickly. ‘It isn’t precisely an engagement,’ she said.

‘Then what is it, precisely?’

She looked at Marco but he gave her no help, and she floundered, ‘It’s sort of-unofficial.’

‘I have no patience with all this shilly-shallying. Anyone can see that you’re right for each other, and now the world knows you’re engaged.’

‘You wouldn’t have given them that impression by any chance?’ Marco demanded ironically.

‘I didn’t need to. Everyone saw you lost in each other at Bella Figura.’

Since they could hardly explain that they’d been fighting at the time neither of them answered, and Lucia took this for confirmation.

‘And taking us to the bank was practically an announcement,’ Lucia added. ‘So now we must have a party. Everyone will expect it. They’ll also expect a ring. See to it.’ She bustled away before they could answer.

‘What are we going to do?’ Harriet demanded.

‘A party’s actually a good idea,’ Marco said. ‘It’s time you met some family friends.’

‘But an engagement party-a ring-’

‘It changes nothing. We get engaged, we change our minds, we get unengaged. And my mother’s right about the ring.’ He scribbled an address and gave it to her. ‘That’s the best jeweller in Rome. I’ll tell them to expect you.’

‘You’re not coming with me?’

‘I have urgent business to attend to,’ he said, not meeting her eye. ‘They’ll have a fine selection ready for you. Pick the best.’

She attended the jeweller later that day. He treated Signor Calvani’s fiancée with awed respect, and showed her a selection of diamond rings, all of which looked lavish and frighteningly expensive. There was one that pleased her, a band of tiny diamonds set in white gold, crowned with one large diamond of marvellous quality. But she knew too much about jewellery not to guess its fabulous price, and there was no way she could accept it.

‘Don’t you have something a little-smaller,’ she asked, feeling that ‘cheaper’ might be tactless.

‘These are the ones Signor Calvani selected,’ the jeweller said.

So he’d been to the shop. But not with her. Worse, he was trying to control her choice, and up with that she would not put.

‘I’d like to see something else,’ she said firmly.

He was aghast. ‘But Signor Calvani-’

‘Will not be wearing this ring. I will.’

‘But-’

‘Of course, if it’s too much trouble, I can go elsewhere.’

Defeated, the little man produced a tray of less extravagant rings. Then he mopped his brow.

She finally chose a charming solitaire, resisting his attempts to direct her back to the luxury rings, and went away with it on her finger.

Marco arrived at the villa that evening, bearing a large black jeweller’s box.

Harriet hadn’t expected him to give in easily, and reckoned she didn’t have to be clairvoyant to guess that the box contained the rings she’d rejected.

So it was war then! She was ready for him.

Marco greeted his mother pleasantly before taking Harriet aside.

‘Thank you for my lovely ring,’ she said, holding up her hand.

He took her hand between his and firmly removed the solitaire without even looking at it.

‘Hey, what are you doing?’

‘There was a mistake. He must have shown you the wrong tray.’

‘There was no mistake. This was the one I liked.’

‘My fiancée does not wear cheap rings,’ Marco said firmly.

‘Cheap? It must be worth ten thousand euros.’

‘Exactly,’ he said in a clipped voice. It was clear that he was keeping his annoyance under control.

‘I see. If “your fiancée” was seen flaunting a mere ten grand your clients would start checking the value of their stocks and shares, to see if you were losing your financial touch.’

‘Since you obviously understand I don’t see why we’re having this discussion.’

‘Please give me back that ring.’

‘No.’

‘It’s the one I want.’

There was a silence in which he raised his clenched hands to his head in a gesture that was an odd combination of frustration, obstinacy and helplessness. Their eyes met, determination on both sides. Marco opened the box.

‘I would prefer you to select one of these,’ he said, speaking carefully.

‘And I would prefer the one I chose.’

Through gritted teeth he demanded, ‘Why must everything be an argument?’

‘Because you try to control me at every turn, and I won’t have it.’

‘Nonsense. I’m merely asking you to do what’s proper to our situation. Good grief, Harriet, just the other day you spent more than this without turning a hair. Money I hadn’t authorised, let me remind you.’

‘Are we going to start that again?’

‘I just think it odd that you’ll plunder my pockets with the ruthlessness of a corporate raider when it’s a question of an old carved stone, but over this you suddenly get delicate about the price. Where’s the logic?’

‘Who says there has to be logic?’

‘It helps sometimes,’ he said savagely.

‘Then how’s this for logic? It’s not the price. It’s you directing me here and there like a train running on rails. This train is coming off the rails and going her own way.’

‘And never mind how it affects me?’

‘Your clients will get over it.’

But he was cleverer than she had allowed for, and the next moment he come up with the one thing she wasn’t prepared for. The anger died out of his face, and he looked at her with a rueful smile.

‘Harriet, for a brilliant woman you can be remarkably stupid.’

‘What does that mean?’ she asked cautiously, divining a trap but unable to see where it lay.

‘It’s not my clients I’m afraid of. It’s my mother.’

‘Oh, really! If you’re trying to persuade me that you’re afraid of your mother-!’

‘Terrified. What do think she’s going to say to me if she thinks I’ve treated you shabbily over the ring?’

He was smiling at her in a way she found disturbing.

‘I’ll explain to her that this way my choice-’

‘It’s no good,’ he sighed. ‘She’ll say I should have asserted myself. She doesn’t know how hard that is with you. If you won’t help me out I’ll-well, I just don’t know what I’ll do.’

‘Now you stop that,’ she said severely, trying not to respond to his smile. ‘I see right through you, d’you hear?’

‘I’m sure you do.’

‘And you don’t care a rap, do you, as long as you get your own way?’

‘You understand me perfectly.’

‘Well, of all the admissions-! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.’

‘Why? Nothing wrong in getting your own way. Don’t you like to do that?’

‘Of course, but I have some scruples how I go about it.’

‘Scruples are a waste of time,’ he said seriously. ‘If it works for you, go for it.’

‘No matter who else-?’

‘No matter anything.’

‘But that’s dreadful.’

‘No, it makes sense and it gets things done. Now, why don’t you just try this on?’

As he spoke he was slipping onto her finger the white gold ring that had drawn her attention in the shop. And he knew, of course. The jeweller had told him that this one had made her waver. At every turn he was there before her, and she must fight him.

But indignation faded in the beauty of the diamond band with its crown of one perfect jewel. She stretched out her hand to watch the light winking off the great stone, awed by its sheer extravagant glory.

‘I can’t take it,’ she said desperately. ‘I just can’t.’ But she didn’t lower her hand.

‘Mamma!’ Marco hailed his mother, hovering eagerly in the doorway. ‘Come and congratulate us on our engagement.’

As he spoke he held up Harriet’s hand and Lucia gave a cry of admiration. ‘Oh, cara, what a beautiful ring!’

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ she said, regarding her betrothed with cynical eyes. There was no turning back now.

‘How they’ll all gasp when they see it!’ Lucia exclaimed. ‘Now we can really settle down to enjoy planning the party.’

‘I shall have to be out of town for a few days,’ Marco said instantly.

‘Go away then,’ his mother told him. ‘We’ll do much better without you.’

She departed, humming.

‘I won’t say anything about your total lack of scruples,’ Harriet said, ‘because we’ve already covered that. But I want it clearly understood that if I don’t go through with this-and right now that seems very unlikely-you will take this ring back.’

‘Naturally,’ he said, shocked. ‘You don’t think I’d have let you keep it? I’d need it for next time.’

His eyes were teasing her, and suddenly she didn’t mind very much after all. He was overbearing and impossible, but there was nothing to be done about that. And he had a certain sly charm that could sneak in under her radar.

But there was something else, that she hardly dared admit to herself. Sensible Harriet was retreating into the shadows, banished by another Harriet who wanted to take risks and live life to the full: as long as it was with him.

The realisation shook her. She needed time to think about it.

By the end of supper Lucia and Marco had agreed a guest list. Looking over it Harriet saw a name that made her eyes light up. ‘Baron Orazio Manelli,’ she said excitedly.

‘Do you know him?’ Marco asked.

‘No, but I want to. I’ve been trying to get past his front door for ages.’

‘I suppose he has some antique that you want?’

‘A thousand antiques, and from what I hear a lot of them have never been properly catalogued. He won’t let anyone near them. But it’ll be different now.’ Her voice became casual. ‘Do you know him well?’

‘Well enough to get you past his front door. I gather that’s what I’m expected to do?’

‘It’s not a problem is it?’

‘Would it make any difference if it was?’

‘Well-’

‘Don’t bother being polite. I’m glad to be of use.’

That was one hurdle cleared, she thought, glad that Marco seemed merely amused. A happy vista of unexplored treasures was opening up to her.

Marco was away for a week. Harriet and Lucia spent the time in a flurry of activity. Every one of the villa’s army of servants was engaged in spring cleaning the place and bringing it to new life. A stream of invitations went out, including one to Harriet’s father, but since there was no reply it seemed that he was still away.

Within a day a stream of acceptances started to come in. All society was agog to see the woman who had ‘conquered the conqueror’, a phrase that was repeated through the salons of the city until it reached Harriet’s ears.

‘Well, this is Rome after all,’ she said wryly to Lucia. ‘The perfect place for going into the lion’s den.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Lucia told her. ‘Marco knows all about the lions. He won’t let you face them alone.’

Two days before the party Marco appeared at the villa and the three of them had a cheerful supper. Over coffee Lucia said, ‘The family will start to arrive tomorrow. Are you ready to meet them?’

‘A bit nervous,’ Harriet admitted.

Lucia sighed. ‘I’m a little nervous myself. Francesco is bringing Liza-I can hardly bring myself to call her his fiancée. It’s an absurd name for a woman in her sixties.’

‘It’s not his fault they’ve left it so long,’ Marco pointed out. ‘He’s been begging her to marry him for years, but since she was his housekeeper she had the strange idea that their marriage was inappropriate.’

Lucia sniffed. ‘She was correct.’

Marco added, ‘Harriet has already met Dulcie, Mamma.’

‘It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Dulcie came into Harriet’s shop to sell the family silver,’ Lucia observed with some asperity.

‘It was a marble horse head actually,’ Harriet murmured without thinking. To cover this gaffe she added quickly, ‘I really look forward to seeing her again. We got on very well. After we’d done business we’d have lunch together. She’s great fun.’

Lucia blenched. ‘Fun? Is that her only qualification for being the future Contessa Calvani?’

‘Well I-’

‘Don’t try to answer that,’ Marco told her quietly. ‘Mamma, you’re not being fair to Harriet.’

‘No, of course I’m not. It isn’t your fault, my dear.’ She patted Harriet’s hand and the moment mercifully passed.

‘Leo, of course, won’t arrive until the last moment,’ Lucia continued. ‘He’s uncomfortable in society, or anywhere civilised.’

‘True,’ Marco said with a grin. ‘In fact he probably wouldn’t come at all if he wasn’t going on to America, and Rome Airport will give him a more direct flight to Texas.’

‘Texas!’ Lucia sniffed again. ‘Anyone would think he was a cowboy.’

‘Since he’s going to a rodeo I suppose that’s what he is,’ Marco said mildly.

‘A rodeo?’ Harriet echoed.

‘Leo breeds horses in Tuscany,’ Marco explained. ‘They’re fine animals and much in demand. He’ll be riding in this rodeo and making some sales, I dare say.’

‘A cowboy!’ Lucia sighed in despair. ‘And he should be Francesco’s heir!’

Next morning she and Lucia were waiting at the station for the Venice train, from which Count Francesco Calvani appeared, on his arm a thin elderly woman. This was Liza, his promised bride, and the sight of them together made Harriet smile. Their secret love had lasted all these years, and now that it could flower openly their pride and joy in each other was touching. How many young couples would still feel that way after years, she wondered? Certainly not herself and Marco, who didn’t even start with love.

Of course, he might well be right, and a sensible arrangement was the best thing. But there was a lump in her throat as she regarded the elderly lovers.

Marco’s cousin Guido was a good-looking charmer with a wicked glint in his eyes. But mostly those eyes rested on Dulcie, who would become his bride in a few weeks. If ever a man was in love-! Harriet thought, liking him for it.

Dulcie greeted her with a whoop and an embrace. ‘I can’t believe it’s really you. Just fancy, we’re going to be related. That’ll be great.’

‘Yes,’ Harriet agreed, wondering if that day would really come. The glittering ring on her finger was real enough but everything else had an air of unreality. For the moment the only thing to do was plunge into the festivities wholeheartedly, and she was eager to enjoy them, despite her many confusions.

She might disapprove of the count’s marriage but Lucia’s behaviour to Liza was charming. Behind her pride her heart was kind, and Liza was soon relaxing in her company.

She was also relaxed with Marco, Harriet noticed, evidently feeling that his kindness too could be relied on. He kissed her cheek, addressed her as Aunt, and gave her his arm into the house.

Over supper Guido entertained them with the story of the many misunderstandings that had attended his first meeting with Dulcie, in Venice, when she’d thought he was a gondolier, and he hadn’t known that she was hiding a secret of her own. They were all laughing when Harriet looked up and saw a tall, massively built young man standing in the doorway. With his shaggy hair and rough-hewn appearance he was immediately identifiable as the ‘country bumpkin’.

There was a general cry of ‘Leo!’, and Guido and Marco rose to shake his hand and thump him on the back. The young giant grinned and thumped them back, then kissed Lucia and Dulcie. Harriet got to her feet to meet him, and he gave her the appraising glance she was growing used to. He was as handsome as the other two, but the impression he made was more powerfully physical. The Calvani men, Harriet decided, were simply too much.

She instinctively liked Leo, who shook her hand and kissed her cheek with the simplicity of a man who found actions easier than thought. Keeping her hand between his, he then looked her up and down with an appreciative grin that went on getting broader. Playing up to him, she gazed back, until Marco coughed significantly.

‘Who are you?’ she asked, giving him a dazed stare.

Everyone roared with laughter, including, she was glad to notice, Marco. He wasn’t a man who would normally accept such teasing, but the family’s appreciation of her quick wit had delighted him.

‘Go away, Leo, while I remind my fiancée who I am,’ Marco said with a grin. ‘And leave her alone in future.’

Leo winked at her and hissed, ‘The terrace at midnight,’ in a stage whisper, but Harriet was prevented from answering by Marco’s arm, firmly about her waist, drawing her away.

‘We were just fooling,’ she protested, still chuckling.

‘I know, but you want to watch Leo. He “fools” with a lot of girls. He’s a “love ’em and leave ’em” man.’

‘Strange, I heard the same about you.’

His brows contracted. ‘I wonder where you heard that.’

‘Everywhere.’ Her eyes challenged him and he backed down first.

‘Let’s finish supper,’ he said.

Since the meal was half over Leo had a lot of catching up to do, and tucked in with gusto while the talk swirled around him. When he spoke it was usually to ask Harriet about herself, not pretending to be amorous now, but with every appearance of cousinly interest. It might have been simply good manners, but it warmed her heart. She began to feel as though a dream had come true against all the odds. This was the culmination of something that had been happening ever since Lucia had welcomed her at the station. She was accepted. The whole dashing, colourful Calvani family had opened its collective arms to her. To someone who’d felt rejected most of her life it was overwhelming.

It was hard to believe that the Calvani men came from the same family, their looks were so different, although they were all, as Lucia had observed to Harriet, ‘handsome as devils’.

At seventy-two the count bore the marks of a lifetime’s self-indulgence, but not enough to obliterate the remains of brilliant good looks. Leo and Guido were half-brothers, Leo radiating the vigour and energy of a man of the earth: lusty, uncomplicated, great-hearted. Guido’s build was slighter than his brother’s, his boyish looks balanced by a shrewd intelligence, and he had a nervous energy that kept him restless, except when Dulcie was nearby.

To Harriet’s eyes Marco was by far the most impressive, elegant, controlled, unrevealing, his own man in everything. In the heart of his family he was a changed man, relaxed, readier to laugh. But it was still hard to imagine him behaving with Leo’s cheerful indifference, or regarding a woman with the blatant adoration that shone from Guido’s eyes.

She wondered about the woman he’d nearly married, and whose name was never mentioned in this house. Had he truly loved her, or had she fled him in despair at being unable to penetrate his protective shell? That was more likely, she thought.

And yet he had a surprise for her as the party broke up to go to bed, taking her hand and leading her out onto the terrace.

‘You have a midnight appointment out here,’ he reminded her.

‘But not with you,’ she said provocatively.

‘It had better be with me,’ he said with a smile that provoked her even more.

And she wanted nothing better, she thought as his lips touched hers. There was a sweetness in this kiss that melted her and made her lean in to him, wanting more. But he drew back a little, and she saw him regarding her with an odd little half-smile. She raised her eyebrows in a query, but he only shook his head, and she felt the brief interlude had posed more questions than it answered.

On the night of the party Harriet was just finishing dressing when Dulcie, a dream in dark blue silk and diamonds, swept into her room.

‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘You look fantastic. No wonder you melted the Iceman’s heart.’

‘The Iceman?’

‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ Dulcie was conscience stricken. ‘But Guido says it’s what the family have always called him. Not to his face, naturally. You know how grim he can be. But of course you see a side of him that nobody else does.’ She gave a delighted chuckle. ‘Now I’ve made you blush.’

‘I’m not,’ Harriet said, although conscious that she was going pink. There was something in the implication that she and Marco were lovers that discomposed her. To hide her face she turned away and patted down her dress.

The beautician had come out from the salon to take charge of her appearance, and Harriet’s face was made-up with subtle flattery, so that her expressive green eyes dominated her face. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, with just a few curving wisps gently drifting down about her cheeks and neck.

She wore a clinging dress of golden brown crushed velvet. She knew she looked good and the knowledge gave her confidence.

There was a knock at the door and Dulcie opened it to reveal Guido and Marco, both in bow-ties and dinner jackets, both incredibly handsome.

Marco surveyed Harriet with satisfaction. ‘Bene! Just as I hoped. This will look splendid on you.’

He opened a black box, revealing a heavy gold chain. Dulcie stared at it, wide-eyed, before seizing Guido’s hand and whisking him away.

‘Spoilsport,’ her beloved chided her when they were out in the corridor. ‘It would have been fun to see the Iceman playing the lover.’

‘You wouldn’t have seen it,’ Dulcie told him. ‘Marco wouldn’t open up with us there. But now that we’re gone I’ll bet they’re locked in a passionate embrace.’

Guido inched hopefully back towards the door. ‘Can’t we just-?’

‘Behave yourself! Besides, I have other plans for you.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Ah, that’s different.’ He allowed himself to be led away in the opposite direction.

They would both have been disappointed had they seen Marco’s calm demeanour as he raised the elaborate chain and draped it around Harriet’s neck.

‘I’ve always known that gold would suit you,’ he said, fastening the clasp at the back. ‘I was right.’

Awed, Harriet gazed at the woman in the mirror and didn’t know her. This wasn’t herself, but a magnificent creature, with a timeless splendour. She might have been Cleopatra, or some ancient pagan goddess. Marco had judged perfectly.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I never dreamed I could look like that.’

‘I know. You have discerning eyes for everyone but yourself. I have known this about you from the first moment.’

A special note in his voice made her conscious that his fingers were still resting against her neck. Glancing in the mirror she met his eyes and saw in them a glow that he’d never shown her face to face. Then he seemed to become self-conscious, and the shutters came down again.

‘Are you ready?’ Lucia asked from the door. ‘People are beginning to arrive.’

The other five were waiting in the corridor. Even Leo had managed to shrug himself into a dinner jacket. Lucia, splendid in rubies, surveyed them all with satisfaction.

‘The Calvanis are a handsome family,’ she said. ‘And they attract handsome women. Now let’s all go down and knock ’em dead.’