In The Count's Bed: The Count's Blackmail Bargain / The French Count's Pregnant Bride / The Italian Count's Baby

‘Sarcasm, mio caro, does not become you.’ She studied him for a moment. ‘Like your father, Alessio, you are formidable when you are angry.’ She patted his cheek. ‘I hope you’re in a better mood when you finally encounter this English girl, or I shall almost feel sorry for her.’

He gave her a hard, unsmiling look. ‘Don’t concern yourself for her, Zia Lucrezia. I will do my best to send her home with a beautiful memory.’

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Now I really do feel sorry for her.’ And was gone.

Alone, Alessio went to a side table, and poured himself a whisky. He rarely drank in the daytime, but this was like no other day since the beginning of the world.

What the devil was Paolo thinking of—bringing his little ra-gazza within a hundred miles of his mother? If he gave a damn about her, he would keep them well apart.

And if I had an atom of decency, Alessio thought grimly, I would call him, and say so.

But he couldn’t risk it. Zia Lucrezia had more than her full share of the Ramontella ruthlessness, as he should have remembered, and would not hesitate to carry out her veiled threat about his ill-advised interlude with Vittoria. And the fall-out would, as she’d predicted, be both unpleasant and spectacular.

Laura, he repeated to himself meditatively. Well, at least she had a charming name. If she had a body to match, then his task might not seem so impossible.

He raised his glass. ‘Salute, Laura,’ he said with cynical emphasis. ‘E buona fortuna.’ He added softly, ‘I think you will need it.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘WELL, it all sounds iffy to me,’ said Gaynor. ‘Think about it. You’ve cancelled your South of France holiday with Steve because you didn’t like the sleeping arrangements, yet now you’re off to Italy with someone you hardly know. It doesn’t make any sense.’

Laura sighed. ‘Not when you put it like that, certainly. But it truly isn’t what you think. I’m getting a free trip to Tuscany for two weeks, plus a cash bonus, and all I have to do is look as if I’m madly in love.’

‘It can’t be that simple,’ Gaynor said darkly. ‘Nothing ever is. I mean, have you ever been madly in love? You certainly weren’t with Steve or you wouldn’t have quibbled about sharing a room with him,’ she added candidly.

Laura flushed. ‘I suppose I thought I was—or that I might be, given time. After all, we’ve only been seeing each other for two months. Hardly a basis for that kind of commitment.’

‘Well, not everyone would agree with you there,’ Gaynor said drily.

‘I know.’ Laura paused in her packing to sigh again. ‘I’m a freak—a throwback. I admit it. But if and when I have sex with a man, I want it to be based on love and respect, and a shared future. Not because double rooms are cheaper than singles.’

‘And what kind of room is this Paolo Vicente offering?’

‘All very respectable,’ Laura assured her, tucking her only swimsuit into a corner of her case. ‘We’ll be staying with his mother at her country house, and she’s a total dragon, it seems. Paolo says she’ll probably lock me in at night.’

‘And she has no idea that you’re practically strangers?’

‘No, that’s the whole point. She’s pushing him hard to get engaged to a girl he’s known all his life, and he won’t. He says she’s more like his younger sister than a future wife, and that I’m going to be his declaration of independence. A way of telling his mother that he’s his own man, and quite capable of picking a bride for himself.’

‘Isn’t that like showing a red rag to a bull? Do you want to be caught in the middle of two warring factions?’

‘I won’t be. Paolo says, at worst, she’ll treat me with icy politeness. And he’s promised I won’t see that much of her—that he’ll take me out and about as much as possible.’ Laura paused. ‘It could even be fun,’ she added doubtfully.

‘Ever the optimist,’ muttered Gaynor. ‘How the hell did you ever become part of this gruesome twosome?’

Laura sighed again. ‘He works for the Arleschi Bank. We pitched for their PR work a few weeks ago, and Carl took me along to the presentation. Paolo was there. Then, a fortnight ago, he came into the wine bar, and we recognised each other.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’d just split with Steve, so I was feeling down, and Paolo was clearly fed up too. He stayed on after closing time, and we had a drink together, and started talking.

‘He wanted to know why I was moonlighting in a wine bar when I was working for Harman Grace, so I told him about Mum being a widow, and Toby winning that scholarship to public school, but always needing extra stuff for school, plus this field trip in October.

‘Then Paolo got very bitter about his mother, and the way she was trying to tie him down with this Beatrice. And, somehow, over a few glasses of wine, the whole scheme evolved.’

She shook her head. ‘At first, I thought it was just the wine talking, but when he came back the following night to hammer out the details I discovered he was deadly serious. I also realised that the extra cash he was offering would pay for Toby’s field trip, and compensate Steve for the extra hotel charges he’s been emailing me about incessantly.’

‘Charming,’ said Gaynor.

Laura pulled a face. ‘Well, I did let him down over the holiday, so I suppose he’s entitled to feel sore.

‘However, when push came to shove, I honestly couldn’t afford to turn Paolo down.’ She sounded faintly dispirited, then rallied. ‘And, anyway, I’ve always wanted to go to Italy. Also it may be my last chance of a proper holiday, before I seriously start saving towards the Flat Fund.’

‘I’ve already begun.’ Gaynor gave a disparaging glance around the cramped bedsit, a mirror-image of her own across the landing. ‘There’s an ugly rumour that Ma Hughes is all set to raise the rents again. If we don’t find our own place soon, we won’t be able to afford to move out. And Rachel from work is definitely interested in joining us,’ she added buoyantly. ‘Apparently, living at home is driving her crazy.’

She got up from the bed, collecting up their used coffee-cups. On her way to the communal kitchenette, she paused at the door. ‘Honey, you are sure you can trust this Paolo? He won’t suddenly develop wandering hands when you’re on your own with him?’

Laura laughed. ‘I’m sure he won’t. He likes voluptuous brunettes, so I’m really not his type, and he certainly isn’t mine,’ she added decisively. ‘Although I admit he’s good-looking. Besides, I have his mother as chaperon, don’t forget. And he tells me she strongly disapproves of open displays of affection, so all I really have to do is flutter my eyelashes occasionally.’

Laura gave a brisk nod. ‘No, this is basically a business arrangement, and that’s fine with me.’

Her smile widened. ‘And I get to see Tuscany at last. Who could ask for more?’

But as the plane began its descent towards Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Airport she did not feel quite so euphoric about the situation, although she could not have fully explained why.

She had met up with Paolo the previous night to talk over final details for the trip.

‘If we’re dating each other, then you need to know something about me, cara, and my family,’ he explained with perfect reason.

She’d already gathered that he occupied a fairly junior position at the bank’s London branch. What she hadn’t expected to hear was that he was related to the Italian aristocrat who was the Arleschi chairman.

‘We are the poor side of the family,’ he explained. He was smiling, but there was a touch of something like peevishness in his voice. ‘Which is why my mother is so eager for me to marry Beatrice, of course. Her father is a very wealthy man, and she is his only child.’

‘Of course,’ Laura echoed. Who are these people? she wondered in frank amazement. And just what planet do they inhabit?

She thought of her mother struggling to make ends meet. Of herself, spending long evenings in the wine bar so that she could help towards her shy, clever brother having the marvellous education he deserved.

When Paolo used the term ‘poor’ so airily, he had no idea what it really meant.

Her throat tightened. She’d treated herself to some new clothes for the abortive French holiday, but they were all chain-store bought, with not a designer label among them.

She was going to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb in this exclusive little world she was about to join, however briefly. So, could she really make anyone believe that she and Paolo were seriously involved?

But perhaps this was precisely why he had chosen her, she thought unhappily. Because she was so screamingly unsuitable. Maybe this would provide exactly the leverage Paolo needed to escape from this enforced marriage.

‘Anyone,’ his mother might say, throwing up her hands in horrified surrender. ‘Anyone but her!’

Well, she could live with that, because Paolo, in spite of his smoothly handsome looks and august connections, held no appeal for her. In fact, Laura decided critically, she wouldn’t have him if he came served on toast with a garnish.

He was arrogant, she thought, and altogether too pleased with himself, and, although no one should be forced to marry someone they didn’t love, on balance her sympathies lay with his would-be fiancée.

‘I must insist on one thing,’ she said. ‘No mention of Harman Grace.’