Lucy Gordon - The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage

She’d dressed more sedately than had been her habit in company recently. This was the bride’s day, so her gown was a demure olive-green silk, cut with extreme elegance and simplicity.

‘Did I tell you that you look wonderful?’ Marco said. ‘I’m proud of you.’

The music seemed to be flowing through her veins, making her dip and sway as though there were no problems in the world. Thankfully his annoyance of last night hadn’t carried over to today. He’d performed his wedding duties charmingly, and smiled through the first few dances before holding out his hand to Harriet in a silent invitation.

Dulcie, watching them, signalled to the band who promptly broke into a popular song called ‘See How He Loves You’. The crowd cheered, thinking of the bride and groom who were dancing together, holding each other close, but Dulcie mischievously pointed a finger at Marco and Harriet.

Despite her resolution to be sensible she found herself responding to Marco’s nearness, his arms about her, the closeness of his face to hers. Their last embrace had been in her bed, naked, limbs entwined, exchanging pleasure. The dance was like a teasing echo of that time, a reminder, a promise…

At this moment it was easy to believe that nothing else mattered. Warmth seemed to enfold her, his warmth, her own, welling up from deep inside her in response to him. The handsome face near hers was the face she loved, the dark eyes gentle, glowing, silently telling her that he too was thinking…

That was how they communicated best, she realised, in silence. And surely they could find a way forward to a future together?

As the dance ended people crowded around them, laughing expectantly.

‘Come on, tell us…’

‘Time you set the date…’

Marco’s arm was still about her waist. Harriet felt it tighten suddenly.

‘We’ve set the date,’ he said. ‘The first Saturday in September.’

Her gasp of shock was drowned in the cheers. The Calvani men pressed forward, shaking Marco’s hands, Lucia beamed, Dulcie threw her arms around Harriet, squealing, ‘I’m so glad, I’m so glad.’

‘That’s great!’ Guido yelled. ‘I can’t wait to see this. I suppose we are invited?’ he clowned.

To everyone’s astonishment Marco clowned back. ‘Dulcie is, you’re not.’

A roar of laughter went up at this very moderate joke which sounded like a major witticism coming from such an unexpected source.

‘Kiss her,’ somebody yelled. ‘Kiss the bride!’

Harriet felt as though the ground had shattered beneath her. One moment she’d been dazed to the point of granting Marco anything, the next he’d given her a grandstand display of everything about him that antagonised her. It was as though the temperature had dropped to freezing in a split second and she was in a new world, bleak, unforgiving. As unforgiving as her own heart.

She let him kiss her. There was no choice in this gathering. What she had to say must wait.

But waiting meant enduring the count’s delighted insistence that the wedding must take place in Venice, at the family home. It meant watching Lucia put her head together with Liza, making plans. She didn’t know how she got through the next hour.

Lucia’s joy was the hardest to bear. She made it clear that she loved Harriet, and nothing would make her happier than to see her married to her son. Harriet tried to give her a hint.

‘He shouldn’t have done it like that,’ she said desperately. ‘Announcing it to the world before telling you, but you see we’re not-’

‘Oh, my dear, I understand. You can’t blame Marco if his feelings ran away with him. Besides, he told me last night.’

‘He did what?’

‘Just before you went out together, he said he’d been thinking of that Saturday, and he would finalise it with you.’

‘And what did he say when he returned?’ Harriet asked, her eyes kindling.

‘I was asleep by then, and of course today has been so hectic I haven’t even had the chance to tell you how pleased I am.’ She kissed her cheek. ‘Now we’re all going to be so happy.’

She fluttered away, unaware that she’d filled Harriet’s heart with anger and dismay.

The cake had been eaten, the bride and groom had slipped away, the band played its last number.

‘My uncle asks that you join the rest of the family in saying goodbye to our guests,’ Marco told her. ‘He considers you one of us.’

She turned smouldering eyes on him. ‘I wouldn’t hurt your uncle for the world,’ she said. ‘But you and I have to talk.’

‘There’ll be time for that later. I know how it looks, but just be patient.’

His hand on her arm urged her away. The count made her stand beside him, his wife on the other side. It was a place of honour, but it also showed her how fast the net was closing about her.

When the last guest had gone she took firm hold of Marco.

‘Now!’ she said.

He let her draw him into the next room. ‘Let me talk first,’ he said.

‘You’ve talked enough. Now you’ll listen. How dare you do that! I told you last night that I wasn’t ready for this. Didn’t you hear me?’

‘Yes, I heard you, but you didn’t make any sense. Harriet, you know as well as I do that you’re going to say yes eventually. We’ve both known that ever since-well, for some time. Why drag it out? All right, we fight sometimes, but we also go well together.’

‘We don’t go well together, because I could never “go well” with a man who rolls over me like a juggernaut.’

‘All right, I’m sorry for the way I did it, but can’t we put that behind us-?’

‘And then do what? Go on where? To a wedding? Marco, I’m further from marrying you now than I’ve ever been. Please think about that before you make any more plans without consulting me.’

She walked away from him and up the stairs to her room. She had never been so angry in her life.

M ARCO’Ssecretary looked in alarm at the determined young woman who stood before her.

‘Does Signor Calvani have anyone with him just now?’

‘I don’t see what-?’

‘Does he?’ Harriet repeated.

‘No, but he has a board meeting in five-’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t be that long,’ she tossed over her shoulder as she opened the door to Marco’s office.

He was engrossed in a computer screen and looked up in alarm.

‘What’s wrong? Has something happened to my mother?’

‘No, I came to see you because this is the one place you can’t run from me. You’ve been avoiding me since we returned from Venice.’

‘Two days. You know I have work to do-’

‘And you know what I want to say. I’ll say it quickly so that you’re not late for your meeting.’

His lips tightened. ‘This isn’t the time-’

‘How much time does it take to say goodbye?’

‘Can we talk about this later?’

‘No, I fell for that one before. Not again. Besides, there’s nothing to talk about. Goodbye! Finito. Basta ! End of story. I can’t marry you. This so-called engagement is over.’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said impatiently. ‘The invitations have started to go out.’

‘And I’m upsetting the organisation, the ultimate crime, I know. I’m sorry, but some things are more important than getting the books straight.’

Marco came out from behind his desk. He was pale but he spoke calmly. ‘Look, you’ve been in a strange mood recently, and maybe I haven’t been very sympathetic. And I shouldn’t have announced our engagement like that, but it just seemed the right thing to do. I’m sorry. I’ll do better in future.’

‘Listen to yourself,’ she cried. ‘You talk like a man punching keys on a computer. This one for “sorry”, this one for “do better”, and out comes the right answer. Life doesn’t work like that.’