Wife in the Shadows

It occurred to Ellie that hoping to wake up and find she’d simply been having a nightmare wasn’t working. Neither was praying for death.

Clutching the sheet so tightly that her knuckles turned white, she said huskily, ‘Contessa—Godmother—I know how this must look but—really—nothing happened.’

‘I presume because he was interrupted.’ The Principessa’s voice was colder than her god-daughter had ever heard it, as she looked pointedly at Ellie’s nightgown lying on the floor beside the bed.

No, Ellie thought painfully. Because he discovered he was in the wrong room, with the wrong woman.

Thought it, but realised she couldn’t say it because it would only make matters a thousand times worse.

Angelo indicated his own clothing. He said coolly, ‘Perhaps, before anything more is said, I might be permitted to dress myself.’

‘Tra un momento. My god-daughter’s needs come first.’ The Principessa took Ellie’s robe from the chair and advanced to the bed. ‘Put this on, my child, then come with us to the salotto.’ She added, ‘You will have the goodness to join us there, Count Manzini, when you are ready.’

Back turned to him, and seated on the edge of the bed, Ellie huddled awkwardly into the robe and fastened its sash, her fingers all thumbs. She was suddenly aware that she was trembling, and on the verge of tears.

It’s all so ridiculous, she thought, like some dreadful bedroom farce. Except that on this occasion there can be no last act explanations to make everything right again. Because they would have to involve Silvia, and that can’t happen.

As she followed the two older women downstairs, her mind went into a kind of overdrive as she struggled to make sense of what had happened.

It went without saying that Angelo Manzini had expected to find her cousin waiting for him, but Silvia’s room was at the other end of the villa, so what could possibly have made him think she was sleeping in the tower?

And what was all this about an intruder in the grounds? Who had seen him?

Every question she asked herself seemed to throw up another, and she didn’t like any of the answers that were suggesting themselves to her.

Giovanni was just leaving the salotto as they arrived. His face might be expressionless, but he radiated disapproval just the same and Ellie, who’d known him all her life, found herself avoiding his glance.

He’d lit the lamps and brought a tray of coffee to the room, and the Principessa poured a measure of brandy into a glass and brought it to Ellie.

‘I have instructed Giovanni to have another room prepared for you,’ she said. ‘You will not wish to return to the tower.’

No, thought Ellie, with a swift pang. Never again for as long as I live.

Any stupid fairy tale dreams I still had finally crashed and burned tonight.

Aloud, she said, ‘Thank you,’ and swallowed some of the brandy, feeling its warmth pervade the chill inside her. ‘But I swear to you—both of you—that nothing happened.’

‘You regard my grandson’s shameful conduct—this outrage to your godmother’s hospitality as nothing?’ The Contessa’s question was icy. ‘Are you saying, signorina, that you are accustomed to share your bed with strangers? That this unforgivable insult should be—laughed off in some way? Treated as one of the aberrations of modern life? If so, I doubt if Prince Damiano will agree with you.’

Ellie flushed again. ‘No,’ she said, her voice constricted. ‘No, of course not.’ She hesitated, ‘Does he—have to be told?’

‘I think so,’ said the Contessa. ‘Before the story reaches him from another source.’ She paused. ‘It is unfortunate that Carlo Barzado witnessed what had happened, because he will tell his wife, and she will immediately tell the whole world.’

Ellie’s lips parted in a soundless gasp. ‘Oh—surely not.’

The Contessa shrugged. ‘It is inevitable.’

The Principessa sat down beside Ellie, and took her hand. She said more gently, ‘We must suppose that Count Manzini gave some indication—at dinner, perhaps—that he found you attractive, my child, and you were flattered by his attention. Gave him reason to think that you would welcome him later. Is that how it was?’

Ellie bit her lip. The truth was impossible, she told herself, so she would have to rely on prevarication.

She said quietly, ‘If I did, it was—unintentional.’

‘But I think we must accept that was the case and act accordingly.’ Her godmother’s tone was firm. She looked towards the door. ‘I am sure Count Manzini will agree.’

Coming into rooms silently must be one of his talents, Ellie thought bitterly because she’d been totally unaware of his arrival—yet again. But there he was, leaning against the doorframe, the lean body apparently relaxed, his dark face impassive as he listened to what was being said.

But Ellie wasn’t fooled. The anger in him might be dammed back, but she could still sense it. Feel it reaching her across the room.

But why, she demanded silently, when I’m the innocent party in all this? And you know it.

Angelo walked slowly forward. ‘I deeply regret, Signorina Blake, that I completely misunderstood the invitation I thought I had received.’ His mouth twisted harshly. ‘It was an unforgivable error, and naturalmente, I wish to make amends for my behaviour in any way that is suggested.’

‘My dear Angelo,’ said his grandmother. ‘In view of Prince Damiano’s known moral stance, you have only one course of action. Tomorrow, mio caro, to prevent further scandal, you will announce that you and Signorina Blake are engaged to be married.’

CHAPTER THREE

ELLIE’S HAND JERKED and the remains of her brandy splashed down the skirt of her robe.

She said in a voice she hardly recognised, ‘No. I can’t—I won’t do it. It—it’s crazy. I tell you—nothing happened.’

‘I believe you.’ Lucrezia Damiano took the glass from her hand. ‘And if only you had been seen by no-one but the Contessa and myself, there would be no problem.’ She sighed. ‘But my dear Cesare, I fear, will adopt a very different attitude.

‘Promised lovers carried away by their feelings, he might accept, although he would certainly not approve. But a casual encounter based on a passing attraction, and conducted in his house?’ She shuddered. ‘That he would find intolerable.’ And paused, adding, ‘Unforgivable.’

Ellie could feel the tension in the room crackling around her like an electrical storm.

‘I’ll talk to him,’ she said wildly. ‘Somehow make him understand.’

‘But, dear girl,’ said the Principessa. ‘What could you possibly say?’

And in one thunderstruck moment, Ellie realised that both her godmother and the Contessa knew perfectly well exactly where and with whom Angelo had really planned to spend the night.

That they’d probably been aware of the situation for some time.

But that, even if it was not a secret, it would still not be spoken of openly, because discretion had to be observed at all costs.

Which, in the short term, she was being called upon to pay. And her silence was only the first instalment.

She bent her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said wearily. ‘I suppose.’

‘You show good sense,’ the Contessa remarked. She looked calmly at her grandson. ‘You have not spoken, Angelo mio.’

His tone was icy. ‘Perhaps I am lost for words.’

‘Tuttavia, I am sure you appreciate the necessity. Your negotiations with Prince Damiano will go more smoothly if you undertake them as Signorina Blake’s fidanzato, rather than her attempted seducer. I am certain you must agree.’

‘Under the circumstances, it seems I have little choice,’ he said with an undisguised bitterness that made Ellie send him a surprised glance from beneath the veil of her lashes. He added with chilling clarity, ‘And an engagement is not a marriage.’