Lucy Gordon: The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage

The second book in the Counts of Calvani series, 2003

Dear Reader,

After Venice, Rome is my favorite Italian city, a place that once ruled the world, and the Romans still know it. There is an instinctive pride that makes Roman men, like Marco Calvani, especially fascinating. They deal with life on their own terms, and woe betide anyone who crosses them. Aloof on the surface, they conceal passion that is irresistible, but only for the right woman.

Marco, the cool-headed Roman banker, viewed his cousin Guido’s adventures in love with wry amusement, certain that when his own time came he could keep his dignity. In The Italian Millionaire’s Marriage we find him determined to marry, but not to risk his feelings. He seeks a marriage of convenience with the granddaughter of his mother’s dearest friend.

Harriet is not what he expected: Half Italian, half English, she has a passion for antiques. She sees in Marco a passport to the great art treasures of Rome, and agrees to an engagement-but only an engagement. How can this man, who likes to be always in control, admit to himself that winning her love is growing more important every day? It is only when he’s ready to cast aside pride and dignity that he finds the courage to be honest about his feelings. But by then it’s almost too late…

‘IDOnot need a husband, do you understand that? I do not need a husband. And I certainly don’t want one.’ These last words were said with a mild shudder that shocked Harriet d’Estino’s listener.

‘Harriet, calm down,’ she begged.

‘A husband? Good grief! I’ve lived twenty-seven years without troubling myself with a creature so bothersome and unnecessary-’

‘Will you just listen?’

‘-and when I find my own sister matchmaking for me- Stars above! You’ve got a nerve, Olympia.’

‘I wasn’t matchmaking,’ Olympia said placatingly. ‘I just thought you might find Marco useful.’

Harriet made a sound that would have been a snort if she hadn’t been a lady.

‘No man is ever useful,’ she said firmly. ‘The breed isn’t made that way.’

‘All right, I won’t argue.’

They were half-sisters, one English, one Italian. Only their rich auburn hair linked them to their common parent, and each other. But in Olympia, the younger, the glorious tresses were teased into a glamorous creation. In Harriet, the same colour hung, straight and austere on either side of an earnest face.

Their clothes too revealed their opposing characters. Olympia was dressed in the height of Italian fashion. Harriet looked as though she’d put on whatever was comfortable and handy. Olympia’s figure was slender and seductive. Harriet was certainly slender. It was hard to be sure about anything else.

Olympia looked around her at the exquisite shop in the heart of London’s West End. It was filled with fine art and antiques, several of which caught her interest.

‘He’s splendid,’ she exclaimed, noticing a bronze bust of a young man.

‘First-century Roman,’ Harriet said, glancing up. ‘Emperor Caesar Augustus.’

‘Really dishy,’ Olympia purred, studying the face close up. ‘That fine nose, that aristocratic head on the long, muscular neck, and that mouth-all stern discipline masking incredible sensuality. I’ll bet he was a tiger with the women.’

‘You spend too much time thinking about sex,’ Harriet said severely.

‘And you don’t spend enough time thinking about it. It’s disgraceful.’

Harriet shrugged. ‘There are more interesting things in life.’

‘Nonsense, of course there aren’t,’ Olympia said with conviction. ‘I just wish you were as interested in living men as dead ones.’

‘Listen to you!’ Harriet riposted. ‘You’ve just been mooning over a man who’s been dead for two thousand years. Anyway, dead ones are better. They don’t tell lies, get legless or chat up your friends. And you can talk to them without being interrupted.’

‘So cynical. Mind you, Marco’s pretty cynical, too. Otherwise he’d have married long ago.’

‘Aha! He’s a grey-beard!’

‘Marco Calvani is thirty-five, loaded, and extremely good-looking,’ Olympia said emphatically.

‘So why aren’t you marrying him? You said he asked you first.’

‘Only because his mother’s an old friend of Pappa’s mother, and she’s got this sentimental idea of uniting the two families.’

‘And he does what she tells him? He’s a wimp!’

‘Far from it,’ Olympia said with a little chuckle. ‘Marco is a man who likes his own way all the time. He’s doing this for his own reasons.’

‘He’s a nutter!’

‘He’s a banker who devotes his life to serious business. He reckons it’s time to make a serious marriage and he isn’t into courting.’

‘He’s gay!’

‘Not according to my friends. In fact, his reputation is of a ladykiller, with the emphasis on killer. You might say he “loves ’em and leaves ’em” except that he doesn’t love ’em. No emotional involvement just a quick fling and goodbye before things get too intense.’

‘You make him sound irresistible, you know that?’

‘It’s only fair to tell you the downs as well as the ups. Marco doesn’t go for moonlight and roses, so you can see why he’d be doing this. It would be more of a merger than a marriage, and I thought that since you were serious, too-’

‘I’d be happy to take on one of your rejects. Gosh, thanks Olympia.’

‘Will you stop being so prickly? I took all this trouble to warn you that he might turn up here next week-’

‘And I’m grateful. I’ve been planning a vacation on the other side of the world. Next week will suit me just fine.’

‘Dio mio!’ Olympia threw up her hands in sisterly exasperation. ‘It’s impossible to help some people. You’ll end up an old maid.’

Harriet gave a cheeky grin that transformed her face delightfully.

‘With any luck,’ she said.

‘MY DEARboy, have you really thought this through?’

Signora Lucia Calvani’s face was full of concern as she watched her son lock the suitcase. He gave her a brief smile, warmer for her than for anyone else, but he didn’t pause.

‘What is there to think through, Mamma? In any case, I’m doing what you required of me.’

‘Nonsense! You never do anything except to suit yourself,’ she retorted with motherly scepticism.

‘True, but it suits me to please you,’ Marco replied smoothly. ‘You wanted a union between myself and the granddaughter of your old friend, and I consider it suitable.’

‘If you mean that you like the idea, kindly say so, and don’t address your mother like a board meeting,’ Lucia said severely.

‘I’m sorry.’ He kissed her cheek with a touch of genuine contrition. ‘But since I’m doing as you wished I don’t understand your concern.’

‘When I said I’d like to see you marry Etta’s granddaughter I was thinking of Olympia, as you well know. She’s elegant, sophisticated, knows all the right people in Rome, and would have been an admirable wife.’

‘I disagree. She’s frivolous and immature. Her sister is older and, I gather, has a serious mind.’

‘She’s been raised English. She may not even speak Italian.’

‘Olympia assures me that she does. Her pursuits are intellectual, and she sounds as if she might well suit my requirements.’