The Baby Gambit

by Anne Mather

  She thought about leaving her hair loose, but somehow that didn’t go with what she was wearing. A chignon would have been more dignified, but she doubted her hair, soft and silky from its washing, would allow itself to be confined that way. She compromised by threading a thin silk scarf she found among the clothes into a loose braid, and was pleasantly surprised when she saw herself. Both the gown and the hairstyle had a vaguely medieval look.

  Just right for a villa whose origins were lost in the mists of time, she thought, glad that she had been wearing sandals and not shoes when she caught the plane. She doubted Ceci’s grandmother’s shoes would have fitted her feet.

  She felt terribly self-conscious, nonetheless, when she left her rooms. Despite the underslip, she had never worn such a revealing dress before. Yet revealing wasn’t the right word, she acknowledged. In many ways, it was excessively demure. No, if she was honest, she would admit that the gown displayed the fact that it had been designed and sewn by a master craftsman. It was chic and sexy, without looking obvious.

  The loggia, where they had gathered for pre-dinner drinks the last time she was here, was shadowy in lamplight. For a moment she thought the place was deserted, and she was just wondering whether she’d made a mistake in thinking they were meeting here when a shadow, deeper than the rest, moved unexpectedly into the light.

  ‘Hello, cara,’ said Matteo softly, and her skin prickled as if he had stroked it. ‘Dare I say, you have never looked lovelier than you do this evening? Thank God you had the presence of mind to tell your mother where you were going.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  GRACE stared at him in dismay. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Matteo lifted his shoulders, his olive skin dark beneath the thin silk of his white shirt. ‘I live here,’ he said, flattening his hands in the back pockets of his black trousers. ‘As you well know.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant’ Grace twisted her hands together nervously, and then, realising how her action might look to him, she thrust them behind her back. ‘You’re supposed to be in London with—with Julia.’

  ‘I was supposed to be in London with you,’ Matteo corrected her flatly. ‘I had no idea that you might come here.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’

  He frowned. ‘No.’

  Grace squared her shoulders. ‘Not even to correct your assumption that I needed some—compensation?’

  ‘Compensation? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know.’ Grace refused to be swayed by his apparent bewilderment. ‘I’m sure you knew Julia would tell me all about it. How you felt obliged to get Giles out of his difficulties as a way of salving your conscience for the way you’d treated me!’

  ‘You’re crazy!’ Matteo’s eyes darkened. ‘You can’t believe I helped your brother-in-law for some selfish reason of my own!’

  Grace shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t see how you can deny it. If you hadn’t discussed it with Julia, she’d have known nothing about it.’

  Matteo swore then. ‘You are so quick to judge me, aren’t you, Grace?’ he exclaimed, his accent becoming evident as his anger got the better of him. ‘I do not know what Julia has told you, but I did not discuss your brother-in-law with her. I have not seen her since she left here a week ago. Nor do I intend to. Our association—such as it was—is at an end.’

  Grace gasped. ‘But what about the baby?’

  ‘There was no baby,’ said Matteo grimly. ‘That was just another of her lies.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ His lips twisted. ‘So you see, I, too, have much to be bitter about. But I do not blame you because I was too blind to see the truth for myself.’

  Grace couldn’t believe it. ‘But she said—’

  ‘Yes?’ Matteo regarded her intently. ‘What did she say? Apart from these lies she must have hoped you’d bring to me?’

  ‘She said—she let me think that—that you two were still together. She had a watch; a ring.’ Grace shook her head. ‘She couldn’t have afforded to buy them for herself.’

  ‘No.’ Matteo’s nostrils flared. ‘No, of course she couldn’t.’

  ‘You mean—you did buy them—?’

  ‘No, I did not.’ Matteo was impatient. ‘Had it been left to me—’ He broke off abruptly, and then continued, ‘But it was not. Not entirely, anyway. My grandmother had already promised—’ He halted again, his frustration evident. ‘Ah, but you do not wish to hear this. Whatever I say, whatever I do, you will always believe the worst.’

  ‘No...’ Grace brought her hands to her lips and took an involuntary step towards him. ‘No, I won’t,’ she promised huskily. ‘Please, Matteo, I want to know how you found out.’

  His eyes softened, almost against his will, it seemed. ‘And I am fool enough to be persuaded by your plea,’ he said harshly. ‘You see what you have done to me?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She was contrite. ‘Julia told me—oh, she made me feel like such an idiot. When you came to the apartment that day, I really believed you meant what you said.’

  ‘I did.’ Matteo’s voice had thickened. ‘But I am forgetting myself.’ He gestured towards the table. ‘There’s wine—and biscotti. And Signora Carlucci has prepared a special dinner...’ He paused. ‘For two.’

  ‘For two?’ Grace’s lips parted. ‘But what about Ceci—and your grandmother?’

  ‘You will find my grandmother can be very sympathetic when it pleases her to be so,’ replied Matteo, filling two glasses with a ruby-red vintage. He handed one to her, his fingers brushing hers in an involuntary caress. ‘She knew we needed to talk, and she hopes that we may be able to solve our differences.’ He raised his glass to his lips and looked at her over the rim. ‘Can we?’

  Grace quivered inside. ‘I suppose that depends what those differences are,’ she said, a little nervously. ‘Tell me about Julia.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Matteo’s sigh was heavy. ‘I suppose it must be now and not later.’ He paused. ‘First of all, I have to say that Julia never, at any time, believed she was pregnant.’

  Grace’s eyes went wide. ‘No!’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Matteo’s gaze was steady. ‘I do not know what she told you about that weekend we spent in Rome, but as far as I was concerned there should have been no question of—of—well, of a mistake.’ He scowled. ‘Dio, this is so awful! How do you tell the woman you love that when you had sex with her friend you used protection?’ He groaned. ‘But, of course, there was always the chance—’

  ‘Wait!’ Grace stopped him there, putting her glass down on the table as she did so, afraid that her shaking fingers might spill wine on her borrowed gown. ‘What—what did you say?’

  Matteo’s scowl deepened. ‘Must I repeat it?’ He took a breath. ‘That I used protection, of course,’ he muttered, a faint flush deepening his tan. ‘You asked me to tell you what happened—’

  ‘And I want to know,’ Grace assured him urgently. ‘But you said something else, something before that. Don’t you remember?’

  Matteo’s brows descended. ‘Perhaps you should remind me,’ he said thickly, and she suspected then that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

  ‘You said—you said it was hard to tell the woman you love,’ she confessed, gazing at him, and his mouth curved with sensual satisfaction.

  ‘So it is,’ he murmured, causing an anticipatory shiver to feather her spine. ‘And hearing that I love you can’t be news to you, cara. I said as much that afternoon at your apartment.’

  Grace caught her breath. ‘But I thought—’

  ‘Yes? What did you think?’

  Grace trembled. ‘That you were feeling guilty about what had happened between us; that you regretted getting involved...’

  ‘Oh, cara, if you only knew.’ He put down his glass and stood for a few moments staring down at the wine that still shimmered in it. ‘I remember clearly how I felt that afternoon, and my regrets had nothing to do with you.’

  Grace hesitated. �
��I suppose believing you were being forced to get married again must have been—frustrating.’

  ‘Frustrating?’ Matteo looked at her now. ‘Cara, frustration was not my strongest emotion, believe me.’

  She did believe him. Unfortunately, she believed him only too well. Whatever feelings he professed to have for her, she must never forget that marriage was not part of his vocabulary.

  ‘Do you want me to go on?’ he asked now, and she became aware that he was watching her with disturbingly sensual eyes. ‘Or do you want to talk about us?’

  ‘Yes...’ Grace realised how her word could be misconstrued, and hurriedly amended it. ‘Please—go on.’

  Matteo didn’t speak for a few moments, and when he did it was not what she expected. ‘So you are going to make me wait for you to say the words I long to hear?’ he questioned softly. ‘Cruel, Grace. Very cruel.’

  Her face flamed. ‘I had a good teacher,’ she said, forcing herself not to give in. ‘Please, Matteo: you promised.’

  ‘Very well.’ He swayed back on his heels, but she could tell he was disappointed in her answer. ‘Where was I? Ah, yes, that fateful weekend in Rome. That must have been when Julia had the idea of using a child to effect a marriage between us.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘But she wasn’t pregnant!’

  ‘No. But she’d obviously intended to be. That part was true enough.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, her story is that she was not to know that I’d lose interest in her once I’d had my wicked way. The truth is slightly less theatrical. In fact, I never was particularly attracted to her.’

  ‘Then why did you phone her less than twenty-four hours after you’d met?’ asked Grace, feeling obliged to defend her friend, and Matteo gave her an old-fashioned look.

  ‘She told you that, I suppose.’ His lips twisted. ‘And did she also say that she’d made a point of leaving her purse in my car when I was fool enough to drive her and her friend back to where they were staying?’

  ‘No.’

  Grace looked chastened, and Matteo took another weary breath before continuing, ‘I did go out with her. I’m not denying that. For a few weeks, we saw one another on a fairly regular basis. But it wasn’t until I had to go to Rome on business and she asked if she could come along that our relationship became a sexual one. The rest, as they say, is history.’

  Grace pressed her palms together. ‘So—when she told you she was expecting your baby, you had no reason to doubt her?’

  ‘Oh, I had plenty of reasons for doubting her,’ retorted Matteo bitterly. ‘Only at that time I was too shocked to think clearly. I believe my grandmother told you how my first wife died?’ And at her gesture of assent he went on, ‘Then perhaps you’ll understand how I was feeling. I was so—gutted—that I’d apparently broken the promise I’d made to myself when Luisa died that I didn’t immediately question the validity of Julia’s claim.’ He groaned. ‘My first thought was, Grace will never forgive me for this, and you’d have been right. Dear God, I never would have forgiven myself.’

  Grace had to steel herself then to stay where she was. The urge to go to him, to comfort him, to tell him that she’d forgive him anything when he looked at her as he was doing now, was paramount, but somehow she controlled it.

  ‘That was what I meant when I said frustration didn’t cover it,’ he declared harshly. ‘All I could see was that our lives were being shattered by a woman who cared nothing for me; whose only real desire was to have an easy life.’

  ‘I think you underestimate yourself,’ murmured Grace wryly, but Matteo only shook his head. ‘Besides, she must have known that sooner or later you’d find out.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Matteo was grim. ‘In Julia’s world, men are just sexual animals; a collection of uncontrollable hormones, without any care for what’s right or wrong. Press the right buttons and they’ll perform to order.’

  ‘You mean—’

  ‘I mean, I’m sure she realised that eventually I would find out the truth. But by then, I suppose, she hoped to be pregnant. We’d be married by then and, as she knew I was a Catholic, a divorce would be out of the question.’

  Grace was appalled. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘No.’ Matteo nodded. ‘Although I should have had some suspicion. It is, after all, the oldest trick in the book. The baby gambit! And I fell for it.’

  ‘Oh, Matteo...’

  ‘My only excuse, as I said before, was the guilt I still feel for what happened to Luisa.’ He made a defeated gesture. ‘Julia had found out about that, of course, and she banked on the fact that, having lost one wife in childbirth, I’d do nothing to risk losing another.’ He paused. ‘And then there was you.’

  ‘Me?’

  Grace stared at him, and he nodded. ‘Of course. You validated what Julia said. I thought, If Grace believes it to be true, it must be true.’

  ‘Oh, God!’

  ‘That still doesn’t excuse my stupidity. But after you’d left I was in no mood to listen to anyone’s advice. Particularly not that of my grandmother. I knew she’d never liked Julia. So anything she said was bound to be biased.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘What happened?’ Matteo rubbed his temple with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. ‘Well, as I recall it, Julia decided to go back to Portofalco, perhaps hoping that I would follow her, but I spent the next couple of weeks summoning up the courage to come and see you.’

  ‘But you talked to Julia?’

  ‘Oh, yes. And to my grandmother. She urged me to insist that Julia be examined by our own doctor, but after speaking to you I didn’t think there was any point in that. It was obvious that you accepted her story completely, and I wasn’t to know she’d duped you just as successfully as she’d duped me.’

  ‘So, how...?’

  ‘My grandmother did something very simple and very apposite,’ said Matteo ruefully. ‘I was away in Genoa, having meetings with our shipping agents, and Nonna went and saw Julia herself. As far as I can gather, she offered her a considerable sum of money if Julia would agree to come back to Valle di Falco and have a physical examination, with the proviso that if she refused Nonna would ensure that a significant period of time elapsed before a wedding could take place.’

  Grace caught her breath. ‘And Julia agreed?’

  ‘What else could she do? And no doubt that was when she heard what I had done about Giles. I do know Nonna and I discussed it. And Julia was not above using things and people to her own ends, as we know.’

  Grace couldn’t hide her anguish. ‘How could she?’

  Matteo shrugged. ‘It’s not something we need care about now. I wanted to make life easier for you. There was so little I could do in the circumstances. You’ve no conception of how hard it was leaving you that day.’

  Grace thought she had a fair idea, but that could wait till later. ‘And, of course, with the examination, Julia was found out?’

  ‘Of course.’ Matteo sighed. ‘And who knows? Maybe that was her plan all along. She never loved me; that I do know. So here was a way for her to become exceedingly wealthy without the penalty of marrying me.’

  Some penalty, thought Grace, but she didn’t say anything. She was still reeling from the knowledge that she had almost caused Julia’s original plan to succeed.

  ‘She left here almost immediately afterwards,’ Matteo went on. ‘But I had no idea that she might try to see you. Yet, there again, why not? She’d already done her best to destroy any chance of a relationship between us, and it must have pleased her immensely to taunt you with her apparent success.’

  Grace was shaking her head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘That you don’t hate me would be a good start,’ said Matteo huskily, and she gazed at him with bewildered eyes.

  ‘Hate you?’

  ‘For being such a fool; for taking so long to admit to myself, as well as to you, that I love you.’ His eyes caressed her. ‘Can you forgive me?�
�

  Grace spread her hands. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’

  ‘I disagree.’ Matteo captured her hands, pulling her towards him as he drew her hands down to her sides. ‘I was afraid, you see. Afraid of my feelings; afraid that you might turn me down.’ He searched her face. ‘You won’t, will you? I need you so much.’

  Grace could only stare helplessly at him. ‘Is this why you came to England?’

  ‘Why else?’ Matteo’s breath was warm against her cheek. ‘I should have got to your apartment yesterday evening, but my flight was delayed—’

  ‘The air traffic controllers’ strike.’

  ‘The strike. That’s right.’ Matteo nodded. ‘It was after midnight by the time I reached the city so I checked into a hotel—’

  ‘Not—not the Dorchester?’ she breathed, still barely able to believe what was happening to her, and Matteo frowned.

  ‘No. The Savoy,’ he said uncomprehendingly. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘No.’ Grace shook her head, content that her doubts about the man who had answered Julia’s phone had not been misplaced. ‘But you spoke to my mother?’

  ‘I rang her this morning when I discovered you were neither at work nor at your apartment. She seemed—unsurprised that I was looking for you.’

  Grace smiled. ‘My mother is an optimist.’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Grace explored his face with a hunger she’d hardly dared to acknowledge until now. ‘You came back. That’s what matters.’

  ‘Does it?’ Matteo released her hands to cup her face between his spread fingers. ‘Oh, cara, have you any idea of how I felt that morning when Julia said the words that almost ruined my life?’

  ‘I think I have a fair idea,’ she responded, a little breathily. ‘Even though I thought your behaviour was—was totally reprehensible.’

  Matteo groaned, his thumbs probing the faint lines beneath her eyes. ‘That was your fault,’ he murmured, brushing her mouth with his in a tantalising little caress. ‘I wasn’t prepared for the fact that meeting Julia had just been fate’s way of bringing us together.’ He kissed her again, more deeply. ‘I knew, from the minute you opened the door of Julia’s apartment, and looked at me in that supercilious way you have, that you and I had unfinished business.’