murdered my own brother."
As she heard the pain in his voice it occurred to
Jodie that Caterina must have known how he would
react, and that her decision would have been motivated
by her desire to inflict that pain and guilt on
him.
"I can never forgive myself for it — never!"
"It was Caterina who made the decision — not you,"
Jodie pointed out quietly. "It was her child, and her
body. You weren’t even the father."
"If I had been there is no way she would have been
allowed to do what she did," Lorenzo told Jodie passionately.
"Not even if I had to lock her up for nine
months to make sure of it." He fell silent for a moment,
then spoke more quietly. "My mother once told
me that she hadn’t wanted me. She hadn’t even really
wanted to marry my father. There had been family
pressure, and she had decided that marriage to him
was at least a form of escape from the strict control
of her parents." Lorenzo’s voice was bleak.
"I was so lucky to have two parents who loved one
another, and me," Jodie commented softly. She
couldn’t begin to image what it must have been like
for a young child to be told by his mother that he
wasn’t wanted.
"She was little more than a child when she got married.
Seventeen, and my father was twenty-four. He
loved her intensely. Too much. Her lover was a racing
driver she met through a friend. So much more exciting
than my father. She used to take me with her
when she went to meet him. I had no idea then of the
truth. I thought… He showed me his car and…"
And you liked him, Jodie recognised compassionately.
You liked him, and then you felt you had betrayed
your father — just as your mother had done.
"They ran away together in the end, and my mother
died of blood poisoning in South America, where he
was racing. My father never got over losing her, and
I swore then that I would never…"
"Trust another woman?" Jodie finished for him.
"Let my emotions control me," Lorenzo corrected
her.
"Do we really have to stay married for a year?" she
asked him. "After all, you’ve got the Castillo now,
and Caterina has left…"
"Our arrangement was that we would remain married
for one year," he reminded her curtly. "To change
that now would give rise to gossip and speculation,
and although Caterina has left she could decide to
challenge the will if she thought she might win such
a case. I Don’t want that."
"Twelve months seems such a long time."
"No longer than it was when you agreed to remain
with me for that period."
But then she hadn’t known what she knew now,
had she? Then she hadn’t known that she would be
in danger of falling in love with him, that every extra
day she had to spend close to him would increase her
danger. But she could hardly tell him that.
"What will happen with the Castillo now?" Jodie
asked, knowing that there was nothing she could say
to explain her reluctance to stay with him that would
not give her away.
"I am arranging for several experts to come out and
inspect the paintings so that we can discuss how best
to restore them, and I also intend to put in hand the
necessary work to convert the Castillo into a centre
for rehabilitation and artistic excellence. I have spoken
already with several of Florence’s master guilders
and other craftsmen— But none of this can be of
much interest to you," he told her tersely.
Jodie dipped her head so that he couldn’t see how
much his careless words had hurt her. But of course
he didn’t see her as a part of the future he was planning.
Why should he?
What was the matter with him? Lorenzo derided
himself. Just because he felt a connection with Jodie
that he had never experienced with anyone else, a
closeness to her, it didn’t mean anything. And it certainly
didn’t mean that he was falling in love with
her. He could feel himself tensing, outwardly and inwardly,
as though he were trying to lock out his
thoughts and feelings — and not just lock them out,
but squeeze the very life out of them as well.
Because he was too afraid of them to allow them
to exist? For centuries, out of ignorance and prejudice,
man had sought to control what it feared by
destroying it. Was he doing the same? If he was really
so afraid of the effect Jodie was having on him, then
why hadn’t he seized the chance she had offered to
get rid of her? Because he wasn’t afraid at all. Why
should he be? What was there to fear? Jodie meant
nothing to him, and when the time came for them to
go their separate ways he would be able to do so
without a single qualm or regret.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEIR flight from Florence by executive jet, followed
by a helicopter pick-up from Heathrow to their hotel,
had been accomplished with so much speed and in so
much luxury that Jodie felt as though she were taking
part in some kind of TV extravaganza rather than real
life. They"d been escorted from the helicopter to their
suite with a focused concentration on their comfort
that had bemused her and made Lorenzo look even
more saturnine and arrogant than ever.
The stunningly beautiful seventeenth-century
Cotswold stone hotel had originally been a private
house. Now owned by a consortium of wealthy entrepreneurs,
who had originally bought and remodelled
it as an exclusive private members" country
club, it catered for the wealthy and demanding. Its
Michelin-starred restaurant was fabled and notoriously
selective about its clientele, its spa was a favourite
haunt of the A-list celebrity set, and it was
the favourite venue for private events in that same
set. A coterie of very wealthy clients were said to
have set up a private gambling club there, in which
fortunes were lost and made, and the world"s style
critics had declared it the place they would most like
to be.
From the welcoming hallway, with its antiques and
air of a country seat home, to the decor of their suite,
complete with vases of exactly the same flowers she
had had at their wedding and the latest Italian busi-
ness magazines, everything breathed exclusivity and
attention to detail.
This truly was a different world, Jodie thought, as
their personal butler assured her that her clothes
would be unpacked and pressed within an hour.
"I’ve arranged for us to have a hire car delivered
here today, so that I can familiarise myself with the
area ahead of the wedding," Lorenzo remarked.
"John’s parents are holding an open house party
tonight. The whole village is invited."
"We shall be attending?"
&n
bsp; Did she really want to? Somehow the heat that had
scorched her pride and driven her to long to be able
to stand tall amongst those who knew her with a new
man at her side had cooled to an indifference that
made her wonder why she was here at all.
John, Louise, and the pain they had caused her, had
lost their power over her emotions. The life she had
known and lived before she had met Lorenzo felt so
distant from her now. Already she was making new
friends in Florence; she was developing new interests,
a wider outlook on life. She could not see herself
coming back here at the end of her year of marriage
to Lorenzo. But what would she do? Stay in Florence?
No, that would be too painful.
Painful? Why? But of course she already knew the
answer to that question. She had suspected it the night
he had told her about the history of Castillo’s hidden
paintings. And she had known it the evening she had
sat in the Castillo garden and listened to him telling
her about his childhood, his feelings.
"I’m not sure that this is a good idea any more,"
she told Lorenzo uncomfortably.
"Why not? Because You’re afraid of what you
might learn about your own feelings?"
"No! There isn’t anything to learn about them. I
already know how I feel." How true that was!
She still loved this blind fool of a man who had so
stupidly chosen another woman over her, Lorenzo
thought angrily.
"You are afraid that when you see this ex-fiance.of
yours you will be so overcome that you won’t be able
to stop yourself from running to him and begging him
to take you back?" he suggested grimly.
"that’s ridiculous," Jodie objected. "Apart from
anything else, I’m a married woman now."
"And You’re na..ve enough to believe your wedding
ring will prove an effective barrier to your emotions?"
"It doesn’t have to. I Don’t have any emotions for
John any more. He means nothing to me now. that’s
why I Don’t want to go."
Her voice rang with conviction, and Lorenzo felt
his heart slam into his ribs, urging him to ask the
question it so badly wanted answered. Ignoring it, he
flicked back the sleeve of his jacket without allowing
her to reply and told her curtly, "It’s almost lunchtime.
I suggest we have something to eat, then we can collect
the car and I can familiarise myself with this evening"s
route."
The Cotswolds lay drowsing under the warmth of the
summer sunshine, its villages filled with coachloads
of tourists. And, as she did every summer, Jodie wondered
what those drovers who had once brought their
sheep to market along these traditional roads would
have thought if they could be transported to modern
times.
The small market town of Lower Uffington, where
Jodie had grown up, was slightly off the normal tourist
track, fortunately, and Jodie felt her stomach muscles
start to clench with tension as she sat stiffly in
the passenger seat of the hired Bentley. Lorenzo negotiated
the narrow lanes as they dipped down between
familiar grey stone walls and passed the sign
that marked the boundary to the town.
Up ahead of them lay the pretty town square, with
its traditional wool merchants" houses lining its narrow
streets, beyond which the road started to rise towards
the Cotswold uplands where sheep still grazed,
as they had done for so many centuries. Its wool market
had made the town prosperous, and that prosperity
was still evident in its buildings.
Her own little cottage was hidden out of sight down
a narrow lane, its garden tucking its feet into the small
river that ran behind the main street. A pang of mingled
pain and nostalgia gripped her, but it wasn’t so
severe as she had dreaded. Anywhere could be home
if it was shared with the person you loved, she realised.
A small sign indicated the opening between two
houses that led to the yard belonging to John’s father"s
building business, and Jodie exhaled sharply as
she saw John’s car parked at the side of the road close
to it.
"What is it?" Lorenzo demanded.
"Nothing."
And that was the truth. The sight of John’s car,
which in the early days of their break-up would have
filled her with aching pain and loss, now didn’t affect
her at all — apart from a slight feeling of relief once
they had driven past it, in case John himself should
have appeared and seen her.
At the end of the town, set in its own pretty green,
was the church, small and squat, its stained glass windows
picked out by the sunlight. Preparations were
obviously already in hand for tomorrow"s wedding,
Jodie recognised as she saw bunches of white flowers
tied up with white ribbon and netting ornamenting the
old-fashioned gate.
John’s family, like her own, had been here for
many generations. John’s parents were relatively well
to do, and their converted farmhouse with its large
garden was just outside the town.
"Can we stop?" Jodie asked Lorenzo.
"If you wish." He swung the car round into the
small car park, and brought it to a halt.
There was one thing she did want to do, Jodie acknowledged.
One very personal visit she had to make.
"there’s no need to come with me," she told
Lorenzo as she reached to open the car door. "I shan’t
be very long."
"I may as well. I need to stretch my legs," Lorenzo
answered her.
She could see him frowning when she headed for
the church. And his frown deepened when, instead of
using the main gate, with its floral decorations, she
chose to make a small detour and open a much
smaller gate which led across the immaculate green
and then behind the church to the graveyard.
No one else seemed to be around, but even if there
had been, and she had seen someone she knew, Jodie
would not have allowed herself to be detained. She
had known when she stood in the church in Florence,
making her vows to Lorenzo, that this was something
she wanted to do.
She took the familiar narrow path that wove its way
between large mossed grey tombstones, so ancient
that their engraving had almost worn away, heading
deeper into the graveyard until she came to the place
she wanted.
There, set into the mown grass beneath a canopy
of soft leaves, was the small plaque that marked a
shared grave.
"My parents," she told Lorenzo simply.
Tears blurred her eyes, and her hand shook slightly
as she reached into her handbag and carefully withdrew
the small box in which she had stored the petals
from her wedding bouquet. Taking them out, she scattered
them tenderly on her parents" grave.
When she turned to
look at Lorenzo a huge lump
formed in her throat. His head was bowed in prayer.
"It’s silly, I know, but I wanted them to know…"
She stopped and bit her lip.
"Do you want to go inside the church?" Lorenzo
asked.
Jodie shook her head. "No. They’ll be getting it
ready for the wedding and I Don’t want…"
"You Don’t want what? To confront the friend who
stole your fiance.? I thought that was why we are
here?"
"John’s an adult. No one forced him to break his
engagement to me for Louise." Her head had begun
to ache slightly. "Can we go back to the car?"
Lorenzo shrugged. "If that is what you want."
What she wanted was for Lorenzo to love her as
she had discovered she loved him. What she wanted
was to be back in Florence with him, living her life
with him, creating a future with him.
"I’m getting a headache," she told him instead.
"It is probably anxiety. What exactly are you hoping
for tonight, Jodie?"
You. I’m hoping for you to look at me and love me.
"I’m not hoping for anything."
"No? You’re not hoping secretly that John will see
you and recognise that it is you he wants after all?"
"that’s not going to happen."
"But you want it to?"
"No."
They were back at the car, and Jodie was so engrossed
in rejecting Lorenzo’s suggestion that she
didn’t notice the woman looking sharply at her until
a familiar voice announced in surprise, "Jodie? Good
heavens! I thought you were still away."
Lucy Hartley — whose husband worked for John’s
father!
Somehow or other Jodie managed to produce the
necessary smile. "It’s just a flying visit," she explained.
"I wanted to show my…my husband—"
"Your husband? You’re married?"
To Jodie’s relief, Lorenzo stepped forward and extended
his hand. Quickly Jodie performed the introductions,
watching Lucy’s eyes widen as she did so.
"You’ll be going to John’s parents" open house
party this evening, will you?" she enquired.
"We certainly hope to do so," Lorenzo answered
smoothly, before Jodie could say anything. "If we
won’t be encroaching. Jodie has told me so much
about her home and her friends, and I’m looking forward
to meeting them."
"Oh, no. I’m sure that Sheila and Bill will be only
too delighted." Lucy was beaming. "I’ll certainly tell
THE ITALIAN DUKE’S WIFE Page 16
