Sweet Revenge

by Anne Mather

  'The Conde Raoul Felipe Vincente della Maria Estrada, senhorita.' He said the words with arrogant emphasis, and Toni shook her head nervously. This man, this tall, lean, arrogant Portuguese, was Paul's uncle, and Francesca's f ather! Dressed today in a cream lounge suit, his thick hair lying smoothly against his well-shaped head, he was equally as disturbing as that day in Lisbon, and for a few moments Toni found it difficult to gather her scattered wits. She thought back wildly, trying to remember whether she had revealed her name to him and then giving an involuntary shake of her head. Even so. . . .

  'I repeat, why are you in my house?' he said, his voice cold.

  Toni wondered hysterically for a moment whether he thought she had traced him in order to try and extract some kind of retribution from him for her near accident, but seeing the sombre expression on his face she thrust these thoughts aside.

  'I — er - your nephew Paul brought me,' she stammered awkwardly.

  'He did!' His expression hardened still further. 'Why?'

  Toni was self-consciously aware of her bare feet, of her close-fitting slacks, which Francesca had said her father would not approve of, of her bare arms and tangled hair, and most of all of her own insignificance. Her five feet six inches had always seemed to place her on eye-level terms with the men of her acquaintance, but as the Conde della Maria Estrada was easily six feet in height, he seemed to tower over her like some avenging angel. In consequence, she felt immediately at a disadvantage.

  'Paul - is - my fiance,' she said, at last.

  The old manservant Eduardo gave a slight cough, and the Conde looked beyond Toni to the old man. 'Esta bem, Eduardo?'

  'Sim, senhor.'

  'Muito obrigado, Eduardo!'

  The manservant, smiled, bowed, and withdrew, but when Toni would have followed him, the Conde said:

  'A moment, senhorita.'

  Toni swallowed hard. Was she destined to face all these interviews with Paul's family alone? This was the second time due to her curiosity she had landed herself in a difficult situation.

  'Yes, senhor,' she said resignedly, determinedly ignoring the shaky feeling he aroused in the pit of her stomach. She had never met anyone who remotely resembled this man, and until now she had thought she knew most everything there was to know about sexual attraction. Which was in itself ridiculous really. After all, the Conde was considerably older than she was, and from the slightly jaded expression he wore she thought not only in actual age but in experience, too. He was surveying her with a rather cynical glint in his dark eyes, and she moved uncomfortably, wishing he would stop looking at her. There was a kind of insolence about his gaze which was not unlike the kind of glances Francesca had given her. She felt her temper rising at this realization. What right had he to treat her so carelessly?

  'Senhor,' she said, breaking the uneasy silence which had fallen, 'will you please tell me what it is you have to say and let me go!'

  'Patience,' replied the Conde sardonically, and turning away approached the cocktail bar where Eduardo had left a shaker full of liquid and a crystal glass waiting for him.

  Toni contemplated ignoring him altogether and leaving the room, but that would be very rude, and she was not used to behaving in such a manner. On the other hand, she was not used to this kind of sustained battle of nerves, and she wished there was a chair nearby, for she was afraid her legs might not remain firm. She had already had one sample of the kind of anger the Conde possessed that day in Lisbon, and she had no wish to arouse him again, as much for her own sake as Paul's.

  The Conde poured two drinks, extracting a glass from Below the serving surface. Then he added two squares of ice to each, and turning came across and handed one to Toni.

  Then he passed her, closed the lounge door with a firm click, and came back to her. Toni did not touch her drink.

  The Conde swallowed half of his, and then said: 'The drink is not to your liking, senhorita?'

  Toni compressed her lips for a moment. 'I don't drink at this hour of the day, Senhor Conde.'

  He looked amused. 'Do you not, senhorita? Why?'

  Toni was speechless. Why didn't she? Should she explain that in the social sphere she moved in drinks were not a natural accompaniment to living? Instead, she said: 'I do not drink very much at all, Senhor Conde.'

  He smiled sarcastically. 'Then you are indeed unique in Paul's small circle of friends,' he said, shrugging his broad shoulders. Toni noticed the movement. Although his shoulders were broad, his hips were narrow, and there was not an ounce of spare flesh on his body. Her eyes were drawn to his scar, and she wondered how it came to be there, then flushed as she realized she was staring. 'Does this—' he flicked a hand at his scar —does this disturb you?' His eyes narrowed. 'I have grown so used to living with it I forget its appearance can offend people.'

  Toni shook her head. 'No, it does not disturb me, Senhor Conde,' she replied, bending her head.

  He seemed sceptical of her reply. In any event, he moved further away from her, turning so that side of his face was hidden. 'So, senhorita,' he went on, 'you are Paul's fiancee. That is very interesting. Can you then tell me what you were doing wandering alone about the streets of Lisbon, in apparent need of an escort?'

  Toni flushed, again. 'Paul - Paul was - he was making arrangements for hiring the car to bring us here,' she finished quickly.

  'I see.' He finished his drink, and crossing to the cocktail bar poured himself another. Then he faced her again. 'No doubt, as you are Paul's fiancee, you are aware of his reasons for bringing you here.'

  Toni stiffened. 'What reasons, senhor?'

  'Come now, I do not believe Paul has not revealed his motives for coming here to you.

  Toni bit her lip. 'Senhor Conde, it is almost lunch time and I wish to change before then. Surely this catechism should be addressed to Paul, not to myself.'

  He felt in his pocket and produced a slim gold cigarette case. He extracted a cigarette without offering her one, and after it was lit, he said: 'On the contrary, I think it is necessary that I make the position clear to you.'

  Toni, despite her nervousness, was longing for a cigarette, and was rapidly losing patience. 'What position?' She omitted to give him his title, and if he noticed it he made no demur.

  'This, senhorita,' he said icily. 'That my mother is an old woman, with an old woman's fancies. At the moment, she is of the opinion that Paul is her - how shall I put it? - blue-eyed boy, that is the expression you use, is it not? But I control this estate, and my mother's finances, and I do not intend that she should throw money away on a lazy idiot such as Paul Craig!'

  Toni's eyes were wide and indignant. Whatever Paul had done this uncle of his had no right to speak of him so contemptuously.

  'What has this to do with me?' she asked angrily.

  He gave a short mirthless laugh. 'Oh, really, senhorita, surely I do not have to tell you that! If your intention to marry my nephew has any basis on his expectations from his grandmother, then I am afraid you are going to be sadly disappointed!'

  'How dare you!' Toni stared at him furiously. He was so cool and calm and assured, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

  'Oh, you will find I dare a lot of things,' he replied indolently. 'Not least being the authority to call black black, and not a dirty shade of grey.'

  Toni stepped forward, she had never felt so angry, or so impotent, and she longed to strike that sardonic expression from his lean face. She was on the point of raising her hand, when steel-hard fingers closed round her wrist, preventing the action before it was actually motivated. 'I think not,' he murmured, looking down at her with brilliantly mocking eyes.

  'Papa!' The young voice was as unexpected as a cold shower, and as cooling. Immediately, Toni was free, rubbing her sore wrist where his hard fingers had hurt her, looking round at the puzzled, angry face of the girl who was standing just inside the door. 'Papa,' she said, more slowly, looking at Toni with blazing eyes, then continuing to speak in their own language
so that Toni was completely excluded from the conversation.

  With a muffled exclamation, Toni brushed past them, uncaring then of what Francesca might think, and with legs that were none too steady she ran up the stairs to the sanctuary of her room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TONI didn't know how she was going to summon up enough courage to go downstairs for lunch. Surveying herself later in her bedroom with her face flushed and stained with hot, angry tears and her hair an untidy mess, she found her indignation giving way to a trembling awareness of something that bordered on hatred that would listen to no defence. No wonder Paul had refrained from telling her his real reasons for bringing her to Estrada. How could he have revealed such a situation? She doubted whether Janet would have agreed to come had she known the truth.

  She gave a heavy sigh. There was only one thing to do, of course. She must see Paul, it was imperative now, and explain that she wanted to leave immediately. She would not stay here to be insulted again by either the Conde or his daughter. This decision made, she felt a little better, and could not understand the faint feeling of regret she was experiencing at the knowledge she was soon to bid the castelo farewell. It could only be that she would not enjoy disappointing the old Condessa who had treated her so kindly.

  Eventually she washed, combed her hair into a knot on top of her head, and dressed in a semi-flared blue skirt and navy shirt blouse. The skirt was the shortest in her wardrobe, and she wore it deliberately. At least the Conde should not have the satisfaction of seeing that she was afraid of him.

  She descended the stairs, ignoring the jelly-like feeling in her legs with difficulty, and entered the lounge rather apprehensively. To her relief only Paul was there standing by the bar drinking a glass of wine appreciatively. He was smoking a long continental cigarette which he waved at her languidly. 'Hi, Janet,' he said. 'This wine can be really enjoyable, you know!'

  'Paul, I want to talk to you,' she said without preamble.

  He shrugged his shoulders. 'Do you? Say, I like that outfit. Makes you look really something!'

  Toni gave him an exasperated look. 'Paul, this is serious. I want to leave here today, at once!'

  Paul's expression changed from one of lazy indolence to disturbed irritation. 'Why? What has Francesca said now? I'll tan her hide when I get my hands on her!'

  'Not Francesca,' said Toni, shaking her head. 'I can handle Francesca. Are you aware that your Uncle Raoul is here?'

  Paul started. 'Raoul!' he echoed.

  'Yes, the Conde.' Toni linked her fingers. 'Oh, give me a cigarette. Believe me, I need one. And you - you are the biggest liar I know!'

  Paul looked uncomfortable. 'What do you mean?'

  'You know damn nicely what I mean,' exclaimed Toni, leaning forward to light her cigarette from the lighter he proffered. 'Before dinner last evening I learned the reason why you were in such a hurry to arrive here with a fiancee.'

  'What!'

  'Yes; now say it isn't money! That is the reason, isn't it? Oh, don't bother to deny it. I can tell from your face that I'm right. Honestly, what do you think lam?'

  Paul looked a little shamefaced. 'I don't see why you're getting so het up about it,' he muttered sulkily. 'It doesn't make any difference to you. You're still having a free holiday, and my reasons are my own and no one else's.'

  Toni's eyes blazed. 'You're a positive menace, Paul,' she stormed angrily. 'You've succeeded in getting me into the most awful situation of my life!'

  Paul frowned. 'Why? What did my grandmother say?'

  'Oh, not your grandmother,' cried Toni, shaking her head. 'Your uncle! He seems to consider me some kind of gold-digger who has come here with you to try and inveigle some money out of his mother! When he spoke to me in here earlier on - well, I felt so big!' She put her first finger and thumb close together. 'Not that I consider his opinion of me so important, but I do not intend to put up with that kind of treatment any longer. I'm leaving! You can please yourself whether you ; follow my example!'

  'Toni!'

  'Well!' Toni walked about restlessly, smoking nervously. 'You must be out of your tiny mind if you think your grandmother is going to help you financially with big brother looking on!'

  Paul stubbed out his own cigarette. 'My grandmother has money of her own,' he said stiffly. 'What she does with it is her own concern. Besides, you don't know the whole story. My mother has never had a penny from this family. They've never lifted a finger to help her! Why should I care if my motives for coming here are misconstrued? In a way, I'm paying them back for the way they treated my mother.'

  'And how long do you imagine you're going to be allowed to get away with it, with Uncle Raoul watching your every move like a hawk?'

  'My grandmother doesn't require his permission for the things she does,' retorted Paul exasperatedly. 'Besides, she's still an old woman, who does want to see me married. Even you must have gathered the truth of that.'

  'Yes, but that's the point, Paul. This is all pretence! We aren't going to get married!'

  Paul studied her thoughtfully. 'We may just do that thing,' he said slowly.

  Toni's eyes narrowed. 'Oh, no, Paul. Not me!'

  'Why? Am I so repugnant?'

  'No. It's not that.' She cast about in her mind for some way to let him down lightly. How could she tell him that he already had assumed a rather weak and indolent stature in her eyes? How also could she explain to herself the instant picture of a tall dark Portuguese who sprang unwanted into her mind at the thought of marriage to another man? 'It's just that we aren't at all alike, and I guess we just don't strike the right sparks off one another.'Paul moved closer. 'You're beginning to strike the right sparks off me,' he murmured softly. 'Did anyone ever tell you you have the most gorgeous eyes? And your legs....'

  'Paul, stop it!' Toni moved jerkily away. 'Don't imagine you can change my mind like that!'

  'Why not? All women like flattery.'

  'Not all women.'

  'Besides, it's not flattery. I mean it. Toni—' '

  'Stop it, Paul,' she interrupted him. 'What are you going to do?'

  'Do? Stay here, of course. How about you?'

  Toni stared at him. 'I'm leaving, I've told you.'

  'Are you? And have you thought how my dear Uncle Raoul will-construe your actions?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well, obviously if he thinks you're a gold-digger, he's going to believe you're leaving because he's found you out. He probably expects you to do just that if you think there's not going to be any money after all.'

  Toni ran a hand over her forehead impatiently. Of course, for once Paul had to be right. That was exactly what the arrogant Conde would think. After all, his reasons for informing her of his position were all gauged to produce just such a reaction. He wanted them to leave, particularly Paul, but if Paul had proved to have, too thick a skin then obviously the next thing to do was to antagonize his fiancee so badly that she refused to stay and left, more than likely taking the offending Paul with her.

  She drew deeply on her cigarette, and Paul, sensing her changing attitude, pressed home his point. 'Do you want Uncle Raoul to get his own way?' he asked. 'I would have thought that anyone with the minutest amount of spunk would give anything for the chance to get back at him, not run and hide like a beaten cat!'

  Toni studied the glowing tip of her cigarette, and then when it almost burned her fingers stubbed it out angrily. 'Why should I care what your sainted uncle thinks of me?' she exclaimed.

  Paul laughed. 'I don't know. But you do, don't you?' He ran a tongue over his lips. 'Or is it Francesca? After all, if you leave here the laugh will certainly be on us, won't it?'

  Toni heaved a sigh. 'I don't like deceiving your grandmother,' she insisted wearily.

  'Well, that was the situation long before you left Lisbon,' he reminded her.

  'I know, I know! I ought never to have come!'

  'I would agree with that,' remarked Conde della Maria Estrada, walking lazily into the r
oom, accompanied by a smirking Francesca.

  Toni felt hot angry tears pricking her eyelids suddenly, and she brushed them away with a careless hand, ignoring them all, and walking across to the window. Was she indeed allowing Paul to seduce her into a position where it was impossible for her to retreat? She didn't know. All she did know was that the Conde aroused the strongest feelings inside her, primarily an impotent kind of fury, which longed for satisfaction. He was so cold and aloof, so arrogant and assured. A god on a pedestal, so far as Francesca was concerned. How Toni would love to rock that pedestal a little! It might be foolish pride, but she couldn't stand his indifference.

  She swung round to face them all, her mind made up. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Senhor Conde,' she said smoothly, realizing anger would gain her nothing. 'But now that I am here, I intend to stay, so long as Paul wants to do so.' She moved across to Paul, and allowed him to place his arm familiarly across her shoulders. 'Isn't that so, darling?'

  Paul looked down at her, half laughingly, half relieved, and nodded. 'If you say so, honey,' he murmured, and kissed the pink curve of her ear.

  The rest of the day passed almost normally. After lunch Toni submitted to the Portuguese habit of siesta, and then in the cool of the later afternoon, she and Paul went out in the hired car, taking the coast road through some beautiful countryside. When they returned it was time to change for dinner, and to Toni's relief she found that the Conde was not present at the dinner table. But the old Condessa was there, and she said:

  'I hope you will excuse my son, the Conde, senhorita, but he will not be dining with us this evening. He had an engagement with friends. ...' She smiled gently. 'But I understand from Francesca that you met him at lunch time. I was not present, I am afraid. There are days when I do not feel strong enough to get up so early.'

  'I understand, Condessa,' said Toni, smiling in return.

  Francesca, dressed this evening more formally in a blue velvet shift, gave a knowing, sneering grin. 'The Senhorita perhaps got a little more than she bargained for at lunchtime,' she said insolently.