Wedding in Venice

Chapter Eight

A party in the Palazzo Calvani was a step back into an age of elegance. Thirty people dined at the long rosewood table, eating off Sèvres porcelain and drinking from crystal etched with the Calvani crest.

Riccardo had prepared a banquet fit for a king. It was served by the palazzo servants, but under his eagle eyes. As he had told Justine, tonight he was the headwaiter.

It was Justine's first experience of Venetian cuisine, and she promised herself it wouldn't be the last. A dish of sardines in onions, pine seeds and sultanas was only the start. After that there was squid in tomato sauce, pork loins with Swiss cheese and shallots, with pears in hot chocolate to follow.

Clearly, whatever else he was economizing on, Riccardo had hired a superlative chef. There was more to him, she realized, than a lusty charmer. There was also a serious businessman who knew exactly what he was doing.

She tried to smile at him to show her appreciation, but discovered that it was impossible. He never came near her or met her eyes.

Obviously he'd blanked her out because of his absorption in his work. In which case she could hardly complain, she thought wryly, because it was exactly what she had done to him.

And she would be glad to believe that was the only reason. She didn't like to think of what the other one might be.

After dinner there were toasts, then everyone drifted into the garden to drink coffee under trees hung with colored lights.

There were more toasts to the two brides. Justine watched Liza and Dulcie standing together against the background of the canal. They were the two happiest women she had ever seen, because they loved their men and were loved by them.

Justine's eyes blurred. Just for a moment, it was hard to remember that love was only an illusion.

The evening was breaking up. The guests who were staying in the palazzo began to yawn. Those who had to travel were making movements to leave.

Justine went out to the hall, meaning to go, with everyone else, to the landing stage on the Grand Canal, where the glossy motor boats were waiting. From here she could see the other landing stage, round the side of the building, where Riccardo was preparing to leave, packing his things into the barge. He was alone, having sent his staff on ahead to the hotel.

She knew she must talk to him before he left. As he came inside to collect more boxes she approached him.

"That meal was a masterpiece," she ventured.

"The signora is too kind."

"Don't talk to me like that," she begged. "What I said before – I didn't mean it the way I think you took it. You were right. I was upset with you, and I ran away. Then I was even more upset because you noticed."

The gentle look was back in his face. For a moment she thought he was about to say something, but then -

"Riccardo!" Liza was calling him, hurrying toward him with her arms outstretched. "You did a wonderful job," she said warmly.

"Dear Liza!" He embraced her back. "I couldn't have done it without your help."

Liza laughed and indicated Justine.

"Here's the one you should really thank. She told Guido to give you the job."

Riccardo turned puzzled eyes on her.

"I suggested a hotel to help Liza," she said hastily, "and the Busoni was the only name I knew at the time. I had no idea that it was yours."

"Nonetheless, I am in your debt, Signora. Good night. Good night, Liza."

He turned away and jumped down into the barge. He was going, and she knew that if he left like this she would not see him again.

And she must.

The barge engine was starting up. She had only a split second to decide.

The next moment Liza gave a little shriek as Justine went running out onto the landing stage and leapt.