Not something she wanted remotely to be reminded of!
‘Your father and I had a long chat with him after you walked out in a huff. He’s taking his responsibilities seriously, Anna. He’s determined that you have a complete rest before the birth—he does have a vested interest in the well-being of his child, after all—and in that I agree with him entirely. I’ve been telling you for weeks that running yourself ragged can’t be good for you or your baby. In my opinion, and your father’s, he’s a man of integrity.’
He wouldn’t know integrity from a hole in the street!
‘He assured us that you would have the best care possible, and that a top-flight obstetrician would be privately engaged at his expense—all the things it would be impossible for us to provide. And to set our minds at rest he’ll send a car and driver to pick your father and me up tomorrow, so that we can stay with you for a couple of days and satisfy ourselves that all is as it should be. And while we’re there with you he’ll have his lawyer draw up some document or other, stating the amount that will be paid into your account each month to provide for the maintenance of the child, which is right and proper. So many unmarried fathers shirk their responsibility.’
Give the devil his due, he knew how to press all the right buttons! He had obviously got her parents right on side. There was no earthly use explaining how he had made a fool of her and then betrayed her. It would only make her folks even more determined to see that he paid for his bad behaviour.
But was she to have no input at all? It was her baby, her body. She was not about to be packed up like a parcel, picked up and plonked down some place she didn’t want to be. So—
‘Very neat. Very businesslike. But, tell me, how are you and Dad going to manage without my financial contributions?’ Not huge, not even middleweight, but they kept the wolf from the door. It wasn’t something she had ever rubbed their noses in, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
‘That’s all taken care of. He’s given your father a cheque to cover your loss of income for the next six months. A very generous one, too, if I may say so.’
After more of the same Anna had simply thrown in the towel. Truth was, she had been feeling exhausted for weeks, putting a brave face on her situation and trying not to worry about her baby’s well-being. And the unprecedented spat with her mother had left her feeling like yesterday’s used teabag.
Taking it easy for the next few weeks could only benefit her unborn child, and she had to admit that she would do almost anything to feel less exhausted and anxious about the prospect of single parenthood. It would be achievable, just about—if Francesco lived up to what he’d said about not being around much himself.
Even so, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how completely she’d caved in. So she straightened her drooping spine and gave him her coldest glare when she came face to face with him in the vast, echoing hall.
He looked as spectacular as ever, drat him! A superbly tailored dark grey silk and mohair suit draped those wide shoulders, long legs and narrow hips. It was a perfectly groomed specimen—from his expertly styled dark hair to the pristine white shirt that emphasised the rich olive tones of his skin and the shadowing on his tough jawline. The cool silver eyes were partly veiled by long thick lashes as he registered her appearance, and her steps faltered at the totally unwanted reminder that she knew, intimately, every magnificent inch of that unfairly superb body.
A sting of sexual excitement surged through her, unwelcome and out-of-place, and had her walking out of the open main door, oblivious to the burblings and twitterings of her respective parents. She let herself into his car, with some difficulty because of her bulk, and waited.
The moment he joined her, not even bothering to look at her, much less speak, she levelled at him, ‘I’m doing this under protest. As long as you understand that.’
‘Really?’ He fired the ignition. His classically handsome profile was as arid as his tone had been. ‘Protesting about what? The financial arrangements? Your parents seemed satisfied.’
‘Well, they would be.’ Anna slumped back into her seat as the sleek machine nosed out onto the narrow lane. He would be paying maintenance for his child, and that, in their eyes, would be right and proper. Quite enough. But for her …’It’s not enough.’ Unconsciously she voiced her thoughts aloud, uselessly wishing her unborn child could have a proper father—one who loved them both, was there for them on a permanent basis, one who didn’t think that money was the only thing that counted.
‘I rather thought not.’ His tone was dry as dust. ‘But there’s no more on offer. I made a mistake, and I accept the responsibility that goes with it. I will support the child financially and that’s my final offer.’
Too full of loathing to speak, Anna screwed her hands into fists and stared unseeingly through the windscreen, hating him so much she felt physically sick. Vilely, he’d taken it as read that she’d meant she wanted more of his wretched money!
And ‘a mistake’! How demeaning was that? He was cynically referring to that first time. When he’d been too overcome by lust to give a thought to contraception, and she’d been too overwhelmed by the awesome sensation of falling in love for the first time in her life to even think of repercussions.
That had been the mistake he now regretted. Hadn’t repeated. Oh, no! He’d reined in that animal lust sufficiently to use protection after that.
And his protestations of love had only been made to make sure that he was able to come back for more of the same while she was on the island. Fervent protestations that had fooled her into believing that she had gone to heaven.
Lying louse!
And to think that she had actually been formulating plans to join him in Italy—maybe start a small restaurant together, live hand-to-mouth if necessary. How foolish had that been? That had been before she’d discovered what he’d so carefully hidden—that he was mega-rich. Concealing it from her because he was afraid that she might try to get her hands on some of his wealth!
So let him go on thinking she was miffed because the future maintenance for their child wasn’t nearly enough for her. No way would she make an even bigger fool of herself in his eyes and confess that when that unguarded comment had slipped out she’d been wistfully thinking of a proper family—mother, father and child, all loving and caring for each other, all that soppy happy-ever-after stuff! He would laugh until his head fell off!
Men like him—liars and cheats—automatically thought the worst of everyone else. It was beyond a simple, straightforward soul like her to try to change that entrenched view of humankind. So she wouldn’t waste her breath trying.
‘You need to change your attitude,’ he spelt out in a voice as cold as ice. ‘You gave it your best shot, but you failed. Accept it and stop acting like a spoiled child who’s found out it can’t have everything it wants. While you’re staying at my London home you will treat my housekeeper Peggy Powell and her husband Arnold with the respect they deserve. I expect to see no more rude and objectionable behaviour.’ He gave her a withering glance. ‘You can be sweet and charming when you want to be—as I know to my cost.’
Francesco’s brow clenched ferociously as he belatedly registered that slip of the tongue. Where had that come from? As far as he was concerned the past was dead—another country he could walk away from and forget—so why refer to it? Yet another mistake, he recognised savagely. Around her he was making too many of them, he castigated.
Then a small explosion came from his side, as she picked up and repeated, ‘To your cost? That’s rich! I doubt you’ll even notice the money you pay out for our baby!’
‘Our baby.’ When had she started bracketing them together as parents? Anna thought. When she’d believed his lies about loving her more than his life she would have joyously accepted that bond, believing they had a future together. Knowing how foolishly gullible she’d been and how much he’d hurt her lowered her even more than his earlier holier-than-thou dia
tribe had infuriated her.
Receiving that explosive little speech, Francesco let his lean hands relax on the steering wheel. So he hadn’t betrayed the hurt she’d dished out, as he’d feared. She’d discounted the emotional cost. It probably hadn’t entered her mind. She had homed in on the financial aspect—as she and others of her kind always would.
The relief Anna felt when they finally reached their destination, after a silent journey punctuated only by those early acrimonious exchanges, was tempered by a serious butterfly attack.
She might have known that his home would be an elegant Regency townhouse in a quiet London square, positively oozing discreet wealth and power, but it wasn’t that which was making her feel so jittery.
Would the Powells, into whose care she was apparently to be given, treat her like a stray cat their employer had misguidedly picked up from the gutter? Or like a fallen woman, ditto?
In either event she wouldn’t be able to stand it, and would be on the first train back home!
‘Come.’ Impatience spiked the command as Francesco swept past her, carrying her suitcase, and Anna, her soft mouth mutinous, followed. So she was an encumbrance he couldn’t wait to rid himself of? So what else was new? It didn’t hurt—how could it, when she wanted to see the back of him too?—so why did she suddenly want to cry her eyes out?
The weird hormonal chaos of pregnancy, she sensibly assured herself, blinking the moisture from her eyes as she watched the imposing glossy black-painted door swing open. It revealed a tiny woman wearing a starchy black dress, her iron-grey hair cut as short as a boy’s, but the wideness of her greeting smile negated the severities of her appearance.
‘Peggy, I’m sorry I’m late. A few hold-ups, I’m afraid.’
His voice was warm, as it once had been for her, and his arm lay easily across his housekeeper’s spare shoulders. Anna felt the chill of exclusion shiver through her bones.
He turned, ‘Peggy, meet Anna Maybury. As I told you, she is in need of rest and relaxation, and I look to you to provide it.’
She felt quite horribly embarrassed, expecting a sniffy flicker of those button eyes in her direction, and almost sagged with relief when she found herself on the receiving end of a generously warm smile. ‘I shall enjoy that! Come in, Anna, do. I’ve kept dinner back, but I expect you’ll want to freshen up first. I’ll show you to your room, my dear. Arnold!’
As if her voice had brought him into being, a man as large as his wife was small silently appeared, smiling a greeting for Anna, taking her suitcase from his employer and heading for the imposing staircase.
‘Anna will eat in her room when she’s settled,’ Francesco said. ‘I’ll just take a sandwich and coffee in my study. I’m leaving for the States first thing in the morning, and I have a raft of work to get through before then. And, Peggy, don’t bother packing for me. I’ll see to it.’
Not a word for her. Not one, Anna noted as he walked away. She didn’t know whether to feel belittled, hurt, or just plain relieved. But what had she expected? A fond farewell? A promise to look in on her later to make sure she was comfortable in strange surroundings, had everything she wanted?
Oh, get real! she grumped at herself as she accepted Peggy’s invitation to follow her. This was a man who mightily disliked the situation he found himself in, but who, to prevent any future claims on his wealth, was making sure he could never be accused of shirking his responsibilities regarding the well-being of mother and child. He’d be having some hotshot lawyer draw up a watertight document spelling out exactly what she and the child would be entitled to and what they were not.
Fact.
So him ignoring her existence—leaving for the States and probably not coming near his London home again until he heard from the Powells that his son or daughter had arrived and that mother and child were back at Rylands—was a relief, she assured herself as, feeling impossibly drained, she followed where Peggy led. Being around him was too emotionally traumatic. So his absence would be considerably more beneficial than his presence.
A week to go—give or take! A quiver of excitement started in the region of her heart and shot down to her toes. Soon she would hold her baby in her arms.
The garden at the rear of the house was a surprising green and floriferous oasis of tranquillity in the heart of the restless city. Arnold looked after it beautifully, and Anna liked to help where she could—dead-heading, mostly, it being the only task the older man thought suitable for a heavily pregnant lady!
She liked to breakfast on the terrace when the weather was fine, and this morning it was spectacularly beautiful.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Peggy asked as she transferred tea things, orange juice and toast from the tray she carried to the teak table.
‘On and off.’ Anna smiled. This late in her pregnancy it was almost impossible to get comfortable in bed.
‘Not long now.’ The tray emptied, the housekeeper held it against her board-flat bosom. ‘Sir Willoughby-Burne is very pleased with you, and you’ll remember what he said, won’t you?’
‘That I must tell you the moment the contractions start and Arnold will drive me to the clinic,’ she trotted out robotically. Then, catching Peggy’s slight frown, she smiled. ‘Sorry—of course I’ll remember!’ She had endured endless tests and proddings at the elegantly urbane obstetrician’s instigation—Sir Willoughby-Burne didn’t believe in half measures—and had been given a guided tour round a clinic that had left her speechless, because it seemed more like a five-star hotel than a maternity hospital. Which all went to verify the fact that Francesco was sparing no expense in the execution of his duties—as he saw them.
Tears momentarily blinded her as Peggy took her leave. Her baby’s father should be the one she went to when the baby decided to make an appearance. He should be the one to drive her to hospital! To stay with her!
Despising herself for that piece of downright mawkishness, she reached for the glass of orange juice. Her teeth chattered against the rim. She put it down again. What was the matter with her? Of course Peggy and Arnold would be the ones she would turn to. Ever since she’d arrived here they’d looked after her, treated her like a cross between a cherished daughter and a valued house guest. While The Louse hadn’t shown his face—hadn’t even made contact with her. He had only phoned occasionally, apparently, for a progress report from his housekeeper—largely, Anna suspected, to check that she wasn’t being ‘rude and objectionable’!
Her hand shaking, she poured tea into the pretty china cup.
‘Aren’t you going to eat your toast?’ he said.
The teapot hit the table-top with a clatter. Her breath left her. Lungs starved of oxygen, she twisted round. How long had he been standing there, at the open French windows, watching her? And why did he look so lethally attractive?
A treacherous leap of sexual excitement assaulted her, destroying what was left of her self-esteem. How could her body react that way to the man who had so callously set out to seduce her, make her fall so deeply in love with him she had been in danger of drowning, and then cold-bloodedly dump her?
Riven by emotions she couldn’t begin to name, she watched him walk to where she was sitting, her heartbeats going crazy. That glossy dark head, so proudly held, the smoky and unreadable eyes. The impeccable suiting enhancing those broad shoulders, narrow hips and long powerful legs. So effortlessly elegant, so impossibly remote.
But he hadn’t always been remote. Angrily, she shook her head. She wouldn’t let herself be reminded of the way it had once been, because it had been a lie as far as he was concerned.
A tanned, strongly lean hand pulled out a chair. He sat. ‘You don’t want me to join you. You shake your head at me.’
‘I can’t stop you.’ She didn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t. Her only defence against this awful awareness of his shocking sexuality and the effect it was having on her had to be a façade of dull indifference.
‘True.’
He had the gall to sound amused! A
nna swiped the top off her egg as if she were biting his head off his shoulders, and almost choked on the first mouthful as he drawled, ‘I see your temper hasn’t improved. But your appearance has. You look much better—less exhausted. And beautiful, of course.’
‘Yeah. Right.’ Sarky monster! ‘Beautiful’ applied to leggy model-types. She could understand that. To wallowing lumps—no way! Giving up all pretence at eating, she glared at him. ‘Why are you here?’
‘It is my home. Or one of them. And I wanted to know if you’d signed that agreement—if your parents were satisfied that the child’s future security was adequately provided for.’
‘Perfectly adequately,’ she responded, unable to stop a reminiscent grin flickering across her piquant features. And if he thought she looked like the cat that had got at the cream, tough. He would find out soon enough that she’d taken one look at the monthly payment proposed and had had that hotshot lawyer reduce the amount by three-quarters before she agreed to sign. She wanted the security of knowing that if her business failed or even faltered her child’s basic needs would be provided for. She didn’t want to live in the lap of luxury at his expense!
‘Good.’ His tone was hard, and he made a visible effort to rein back the cynical comment that he was glad to learn that she’d finally decided to cut her losses and settle for what she could get out of him. Out of deference to her condition he said, ‘And did your parents enjoy their brief stay here?’
Anna nodded. She wasn’t going to go into that. The way her mother had positively drooled over his beautiful home, over the valuable paintings and lovely antiques—doubtless recalling the things that had once graced Rylands and had had to be sold to repay debts or finance some hare-brained scheme of her father’s. Or the way she’d said, ‘It’s sad, but we have to face it. We can’t expect Francesco to do the decent thing and marry you. A man in his position will have the pick of all the independently wealthy society beauties around.’
Mistress to the Mediterranean Male (Mills & Boon By Request) Page 20
