Lucy Gordon - The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage

‘I was waiting for you to speak about it,’ he said. ‘That night we spent together-came as quite a surprise.’

‘You mean because you were the first man I’d slept with? Does it matter?’

‘It took me completely by surprise. You’re twenty-seven, and these days-’

‘I know. But most men have always bored me after a short time, even the ones I briefly thought I fancied. When it came to the point, there was always something more interesting to do, and they never seemed to stick around to try to persuade me.’

‘Can you blame them for losing heart once they realised they were competing with the Emperor Augustus?’

‘I suppose not.’

They walked on and found themselves at the edge of St Mark’s Square, which was emptying fast. At the outdoor cafés the chairs were being put on tables and the orchestras had fallen silent, all but one solitary violinist still playing for a couple dancing in the piazza, lost in each other.

‘I thought we were reasonably good together,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you?’

The warmth of his breath on her face, his body entwined with hers, urging, compelling, imploring, the hot, dark madness of him inside her. Reasonably good together.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said wryly, ‘the experiment was a success in every way. Optimum results.’

Take me in your arms and dance with me under the stars, to a lone violin.

‘I think things have gone well since the day you arrived. The best day is the first Saturday in September.’

The violin stopped.

‘You’ve fixed the date without consulting me?’

‘Not fixed, but I’ve been thinking of suitable dates. I’ve got some big deals going down.’

‘All your deals are big,’ she mused, playing for time.

‘But these are different. They’ll make me. It’ll be a partnership.’

‘And that’s what you really want, more than anything in the world?’

He gave a little embarrassed laugh. ‘Not just that. I’d be the youngest partner the bank’s ever had. Maybe it’s a kind of vanity, but it would please me. This will take all my attention for the next few weeks. By the time I can raise my head it will be September, and the summer will be over unless we make our plans now.’

‘No, Marco stop it. I won’t be rushed.’

‘But it’s common sense-’

‘Listen,’ she said desperately. ‘Do you remember what you said to me in the Bella Figura ? You said, “Control is the answer. If you’re not in control, somebody else is. So you must always be the one in control.” I didn’t know then how true it was. Even with me.’

‘You’re reading more into that than it’ll take. One of us has to plan ahead.’

‘You’re planning too far ahead for me. I’m sorry, but I’m just not sure about marriage.’

‘But you just said-’

‘Sometimes optimum results aren’t enough.’

‘Well, what will be enough?’

‘I don’t know, but the jury’s still out. I don’t know what my future plans are.’

‘You don’t mean-’ he was peering at her in the semi darkness ‘-that you’re actually thinking of leaving?’

‘Not leaving Rome, just your home. There are some nice apartments on the Via del-’

He drew a sharp breath. ‘You’ve been looking at apartments?’

‘Only in the newspapers.’

‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ he said coldly. ‘May I ask when you were going to tell me?’

‘Not until after we’d left here. And I still haven’t quite decided.’

‘So until you do I’m supposed to bide my time and be a suppliant, waiting on your pleasure? Perhaps I don’t like that?’

‘And perhaps I don’t like your assumption that since you’ve made your decision I have to jump to it. There are two decisions to be made here, Marco. Not just yours.’

He turned away, striding up and down on the flag-stones. Harriet could sense his irritation at having his plans frustrated.

‘Maybe people who fight as much as we do shouldn’t think of marriage,’ she suggested. ‘Let’s leave it there for tonight, or we’ll really quarrel.’

‘All right. Let’s leave it there.’

They walked back through the little streets, where the ghosts of a thousand lovers lingered, whispering to those who had ears to hear. But these two passed on without a backward glance. When they came to the side entrance to the Palazzo Calvani they slipped indoors, bid each other a courteous goodnight, and went their separate ways.

One by one, the lights were going out along the Grand Canal. In the garden Leo rose and helped Lucia to her feet.

‘Thank you for listening to my ramblings,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid Dulcie and Harriet thought me a bit of a clown.’

‘Well, your life has been rather full of entanglements,’ Lucia said, patting his hand. ‘But if Selena is the right woman, you’ll find her again. Although I think she’s quite mad if she doesn’t come to find you .’

‘Maybe she doesn’t want to find me,’ Leo said gloomily.

‘Enough of that kind of talk,’ Lucia said severely. ‘If your love is fated to be, it will be. Now, tomorrow’s a wedding. We’re all going to enjoy ourselves.’

Dulcie and Guido said goodnight outside her bedroom.

‘Can’t I come in, just for a moment?’ he whispered.

‘Not the night before the wedding. It isn’t proper.’

‘Proper? Hang it Dulcie, after what we’ve been doing whenever we got the chance-? No, don’t laugh like that. It does things to me. I may lose all control.’

She kissed him tenderly. ‘Go to bed and dream of me.’

‘I always dream of you. Do you love me?’

‘More than life. More than all the world.’

‘There are no words to say how much I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Goodnight heart of my heart, until tomorrow, when I shall make you mine.’

‘Now leave the work,’ Francesco commanded his new countess as she took a last look around the great kitchens. ‘It’s time my bride stopped neglecting me and kissed me instead.’

‘Your bride,’ she whispered. ‘After so long.’

‘After too long, beloved.’

He took both her hands and gazed into her face, seeing not the lines, but the beautiful candour with which she’d first looked at him, forty-five years ago.

Liza smiled back. For her too the signs of age were invisible, and he was the young lion she’d first worshipped in those long-ago days when she’d been a kitchen maid and any thought of marriage had seemed hopeless. But through long years he’d loved her steadfastly, perhaps not always faithfully, but, she would have argued, who could blame him for that when she kept turning him down?

She rested her head against him. ‘I’m sorry caro , but how could I neglect the preparation for tomorrow? It’s the big wedding.’

‘Oh, no,’ he said, drawing her firmly away from the kitchen. ‘Today was the big wedding. Come, my adored one…’

Dulcie was a traditional bride, glowing in white satin and lace, wearing the Calvani pearls for the first time. She looked serenely happy, while Guido looked as if he was taking something seriously for the first time in his life, according to Marco.

Marco and Leo were the groomsmen, Marco impeccably dressed and stylish, Leo occasionally running a finger around the inside of his formal collar.

Last night’s reception had been confined to the family, at Liza’s wish. This one was a glittering affair, spreading through most of the great palazzo . Light poured out of every door and window and gleamed from the jewellery of several hundred woman. The cream of Italian society was here.

Despite what she’d said the night before Harriet was wearing her engagement ring, not wanting to attract attention today. Dancing in Marco’s arms, she played her role of the happy fiancée, and gradually realised that it was as he’d said. People were smiling at them significantly.