The Brabanti Baby

by Catherine Spencer

  “Let’s just say he puts up with her because he and her husband have been friends since they were boys, and she’s now part of the package. Common, that’s what she is, under all that fancy dressing. Don’t let her put the run on you, love. If she tried for the next ten years, she’d never amount to a tenth the woman you are.”

  “And the others?”

  Beryl slipped dainty white kid shoes on Nicola’s feet and fastened the silver buckles. “Well, you’ll be given a thorough once-over, no doubt about it. The signor’s very eligible—a real catch—and you living under his roof is bound to create a bit of a stir. But it’s like I said: stand your ground, and don’t let them intimidate you. You’re every bit as good as any one of them.”

  Beryl meant to be comforting, she knew but, more apprehensive by the minute, Eve glowered at herself in the full-length mirror. If her dress hit a hopelessly inadequate note for such a gathering, she had no one but herself to blame. Gabriel had warned her she might need to shop for clothes, but instead of heeding advice she now realized had been offered in good faith, she’d taken offense.

  “I won’t fit in,” she wailed despairingly. “I’m don’t even look right!”

  Beryl glanced up from putting the finishing touches to Nicola’s appearance and swept a critical eye over Eve from the top of her head to the tips of her high-heeled sandals. “You’ll do well enough for tonight,” she said bluntly, “but I daresay you’ll have to shop for a couple of fancier gowns before many more days go by. You’ll be attending a few posh ‘do’s’ while you’re here, and it’d be remiss of me not to make sure you’re properly prepared. Here, the baby’s ready at last and judging by the number of cars rolling into the forecourt, the party’s already underway. Better not keep folks waiting any longer, love.”

  At least Marcia had seen to it that her daughter’s wardrobe was up to scratch.

  Nicola looked adorable in a dress of palest pink ruffled silk, lacy tights, and frilled panties over her diaper. Not only that, she was gurgling happily. No question but that Dr. Bianchi’s medication was working like a charm.

  Eve could have used a mild tranquilizer herself. Descending the branched staircase as far as the first landing, knowing several dozen curious pairs of eyes watched her every step, was even more of an ordeal than she’d anticipated. Conversations dribbled to a halt, the clink of crystal and shuffle of feet grew silent.

  Bemused, she scanned the well-dressed crowd below, the women exotic as butterflies among the more soberly clad men. She caught the shimmer and sheen of fine silk, the glitter and flash of precious gems, the subdued glimmer of gold. And was dismally conscious that her only adornments were plain pearl studs in her ears and a faux diamond bangle on her wrist.

  Her step faltered. If Gabriel hadn’t been waiting at the foot of the stairs, she really believed she’d have turned tail and bolted back to her suite with Nicola, whose expectations were easy to meet because all she wanted was to be fed when she hungry, and cuddled when she was upset.

  But Gabriel trapped her in his gaze and wouldn’t let go. She saw his imperceptible nod of approval, the warmth in his eyes, his smile. They bolstered her courage; made her proud.

  Lifting her chin, she smiled back.

  In a pale gray suit, with a silver-gray tie and white shirt, he looked wonderful. Wonderful! And the way he was looking at her, they might have been the only two people left in the world.

  Suddenly it was just as Beryl had predicted: never mind the others; his opinion was all that mattered.

  She continued the rest of the way, his unwavering blue eyes her lodestar. When she’d almost reached the bottom, he came up to meet her, took her free hand and brushed his mouth over her knuckles. “Cara mia,” he said, in a voice low enough that only she heard, “you look squisita! Deliziosa!”

  A quiet joy, unlike anything she’d ever known before, seeped through her and she recognized in that moment that, if he asked, she’d walk through fire for this man. Never mind that they’d met less than two weeks ago. Time was irrelevant, a shifting, ephemeral thing that spanned centuries in a single blink of the universe. She’d known him forever, been waiting for him all her life.

  “Grazie,” she murmured.

  He dropped her a slow wink and took Nicola. She lay cushioned in the crook of his arm, her dress spilling over his sleeve in a froth of ribbon and lace, and let out a chortle of recognition. He closed his other hand over Eve’s elbow and ushered her down the last few stairs to where his guests waited and watched.

  “My friends,” he announced, pride evident in his voice and smile, “may I present my lovely daughter, Nicola, and her equally lovely aunt, la Signorina Eve Caldwell.”

  He said more—something along the lines of his being indebted to her for bringing his daughter to him, and his hope that she’d feel at home under his roof and that his friends would become hers—but what left the most lasting impression on Eve was the faint hum of speculation that arose when, in the course of his introduction, his free arm slipped possessively around her waist.

  He meant well, she knew. But although part of her basked in his public display of affection, another part cringed. The fires of gossip had started the day she arrived in Malta, and with every word, every touch, he was stoking the flames higher.

  Nor was he done yet. When Thaddo, his houseman, circulated through the crowd with a tray of champagne flutes, Gabriel took two, pressed one into her hand, and raised his glass. “Welcome to Malta, la mia bella!”

  Again, all eyes fastened on her as the guests echoed his sentiment. Then, as Gabriel was swallowed up by friends wanting to admire his daughter, Eve noticed Janine De Rafaelli whispering in the ear of the woman standing next to her. Nothing pleasant being said there, Eve was sure! Fortunately Pierone sent her an encouraging smile that took some of the sting out of his wife’s undeclared antipathy.

  Still, Eve didn’t know how she’d have fared had a handsome, older woman not come forward and, clasping her warmly by the hand, drawn her into the crowd so that she was no longer standing on isolated display.

  “I’m Carolyn Santoro,” she said, “and I think I know how you’re feeling about now. I came here as an English bride thirty-four years ago and thought I’d never fit into such a tight-knit ex-pat community. As you probably guessed, just about everyone here is of English or Italian descent, and we tend to be cliquish, which doesn’t say much for us, does it?”

  “I suppose it’s true anywhere,” Eve replied, so grateful for the woman’s kindness that she could have kissed her. “People of similar backgrounds stick together and outsiders have to prove themselves before they become accepted. It’s the nature of the beast.”

  Carolyn laughed. “Sensible woman! Come and meet my husband, Nico. Because of his work, we’ve both spent a lot of time in the United States and we love it there. You’re from Chicago, aren’t you? Wonderful city! I adore shopping at Marshall Field’s.”

  Nico Santoro was as charming as his wife, and as the conversation grew more animated among the three of them, other people gradually joined their group.

  “It’s wonderful what you’ve done for Gabriel by bringing his daughter here and taking such excellent care of her,” one woman remarked. “My maid told me the baby’s not yet sleeping through the night and you’re often up with her for hours. She’s lucky to have such a devoted aunt.”

  “More than that, Gabriel doesn’t look haunted anymore,” Carolyn added. “It was very hard on him, knowing he had a child he’d never met. Now that you’re here, he’s more like his old self again.”

  The Contessa De Rafaelli, who’d hovered on the fringe of the group, chose that moment to interpose her vinegary spin on the situation. “Which hopefully means he’s also free to associate with his own kind again. The ex-wife was a huge mistake and one we dearly hope he won’t repeat. He should have known better than to think an American would fit in here.”

  An embarrassed silence fell which, to Eve’s sensitized ears, seemed to last an eternity be
fore a frenzied hum of conversation resumed. Her mouth tight with displeasure, Carolyn drew Eve out to the broad terrace where a long, linen-covered table held an array of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres, and more champagne chilling in silver ice buckets. “Pay no attention to what you just heard, my dear,” she instructed sternly. “Janine is perennially discontented with her lot in life and can’t abide seeing someone else happy. Which Gabriel clearly is—for the first time in far too long.”

  Perhaps, but even though she eventually met a number of other guests, whose names she promptly forgot but who received her pleasantly enough, it did nothing to lessen Eve’s sense of being something of an anomaly in their exclusive circle. Not that they made their feelings known openly, of course. They were too well-bred to stare or comment, but she felt their veiled curiosity burning into her back like an open flame.

  Finally one woman came right out and asked the question they’d probably all been wondering about. “Not that it isn’t a pleasure to meet you, Eve, but what on earth would persuade a mother to be separated from her new baby for even a day, let alone a month or more?”

  Eve hesitated. She’d invoked Janine’s wrath by stone-walling her when she’d asked the same question, and gotten away with it because Gabriel had been there to run interference. She was on her own now, though, and from the way the contessa was practically salivating, Eve knew she wouldn’t be so lucky a second time.

  Trapped in an almost tangible web of curiosity, she searched for an answer that wouldn’t add to the gossip already at fever point. Explaining that Marcia had a new husband, was busy nurturing his fledgling career, and would rather tangle with a Komodo dragon than see her ex-husband again, wasn’t likely to do the job.

  Finally she shrugged and said, “Perhaps you should ask Gabriel that question.”

  “She probably couldn’t face him, if truth be told,” a pretty woman with long black hair said, filling the silence with an observation Eve couldn’t deny. “I know I wouldn’t want to, if I were in her shoes.”

  The man standing beside her frowned and gave her a not-very-subtle nudge that said plainly, Button your lip! Which was a pity. It wasn’t the first hint that Marcia had committed some unforgivable sin during her tenure as Gabriel’s wife, and Eve itched to know more. But she wasn’t about to worm the information out of a stranger. If there was scandal of some sort, decency alone demanded that she learn it from Gabriel.

  Choosing her moment when the others were busy helping themselves to pâté de foie gras, slices of smoked pheasant, hot crab canapés and other mouthwatering delicacies, she went to find him on the pretext that it was well past Nicola’s bedtime.

  “I already sent her upstairs with Beryl,” he told her, when she finally ran him to earth at the other end of the terrace, “and was just about to rescue you. You’ve been mobbed ever since you came downstairs. Have you had a chance to eat anything?”

  “No, but I’m not really hungry. Gabriel, several people have dropped hints that—”

  “Nor I.” He hefted a bottle of Perrier Jouet from the nearest ice bucket, and collected two clean glasses. “This is my favorite time of evening,” he said, steering her down a shallow flight of steps leading to the gardens. “Let’s find a quiet corner where we can watch the moon rise and talk undisturbed. Nobody will miss us.”

  But it wasn’t meant to be. Just then, Thaddo came running after them and informed Gabriel he was wanted on the phone. “I’d better take it,” he murmured apologetically. “It could be Marcia, returning my calls at last. Wait for me, cara, will you?”

  And leave herself open to being collared by another inquisitive guest? Not likely. She was tired of being the spectacle du jour!

  Catching Thaddo before he returned to the house, she said, “When Signor Brabanti’s finished on the phone, please tell him that I’m waiting on the lower lawn.”

  Pretty lights strung through the branches of the trees illuminated the gravel walk, but Eve was soon hidden by the many shrubs and vines bordering the twisting path, which eventually came out on a narrow plateau overlooking the sea. Tucking her dress around her ankles, she sank down on the grass, in the purple shadow of a tall flowering bush. The relief of escaping the public eye, of not having to justify or defend either herself or Marcia, was huge, and for the first time in what seemed like days, she felt able to breathe freely.

  By then, dusk had turned the water to midnight-blue, with the sky a shade paler and pricked with the first faint light of stars. Not a breath of wind stirred the perfumed air. The low boom of the sea washing onto the rocks at the foot of the property masked the hectic buzz of party talk filtering from the house.

  If everyone would go home and leave Gabriel and me to enjoy the night alone, it would be perfect, she thought.

  But every garden of Eden had its serpent, and if she’d forgotten that, it took only a few words to remind her.

  The crunch of footsteps on gravel alerted her to the presence of other people beyond the screen of shrubbery. A second later a woman’s voice said, “She seems to have made herself thoroughly at home in his house.”

  “More likely at home in his bed, if you ask me!” There was no mistaking the Contessa De Rafaelli’s plummy tones. “As if she has a hope of becoming the next Mrs. Gabriel Brabanti! At least the other one had a bit of life to her, a smattering of poise and sophistication. But this one… Good God, Iris, she’s a dull-as-dishwater little nurse from the American Midwest. What on earth is Gabriel thinking about, treating her as if she’s someone?”

  “Maybe she gives him lots of tender loving care. Heaven knows, he could use some, after what he went through with Marcia.”

  “I’d like to give her a bad case of food poisoning,” Janine said viciously. “Anything to keep her confined to her quarters, or better yet, send her back where she came from!”

  “Well, he seems to like her well enough.”

  “He hasn’t left himself with a whole lot of choice, has he? He’s saddled with keeping her entertained, so why not entertain himself at the same time, though what they could possibly find to talk about outside the bedroom escapes me.”

  “I don’t know that I agree with you—at least not about their being lovers,” the unseen Iris said thoughtfully. “She strikes me as being rather aloof. Somehow, I don’t see her being a whole lot of laughs between the sheets.”

  “She can fake it, if she has to. God knows the rest of us did when we were out trying to snag the right kind of husband.”

  Initially Eve had felt her face flaming with humiliation at being silent witness to a conversation never meant for her ears, but as it continued, a cold anger swept over her. In her line of her work, she’d faced her share of thugs, thieves, gang leaders and other unsavory members of Chicago’s underworld, without flinching. So why now was she cowering furtively behind a bush and allowing two supposedly civilized but highly imperfect strangers to tear her to shreds?

  “I might be nothing but a dull little nurse from the boring American Midwest,” she declared, rounding the bush so suddenly that Janine and her cohort clutched each other and squealed in alarm, “but I’m smart enough not to risk being sued for slander, which is a damn sight more than can be said of either of you. And I like to think I’ve got enough class not to badmouth my host’s taste in house-guests while I’m stuffing myself with his food, and washing it down with his champagne.”

  “You were eavesdropping!” Janine squawked in outrage. “How dare you!”

  “How dare you!” Eve shot back. “You silly, affected woman, just who do you think you are, judging others by your own shabby standards?”

  “Well! Well!” Eve couldn’t be sure, but she thought the contessa turned faintly purple. Certainly she looked to be on the verge either of exploding or going into cardiac arrest. “Wait until Gabriel hears about this!”

  “Er, maybe it’s best if he doesn’t, Janine,” the one called Iris suggested, closing a restraining hand over her friend’s wrist. “Maybe we’ve said enough and it’d be bes
t if we all forgot this conversation ever took place. I’m sorry if we’ve offended you, Ms. Cald—Eve.”

  “No, you’re not,” Eve snapped. “You’re just sorry you got caught.”

  “I’m not,” Janine declared, her tone as vitriolic as her expression. “But you certainly will be, my dear. I’m married to the Conte De Rafaelli, which makes me a person of some consequence in these islands, and I’ll see to it that many of the doors that might have been open to you before this unpleasant little episode remain very firmly shut in your face.”

  Eve shrugged and smiled. “Given my impeccable connections, I doubt that. But even if you’re right, I really don’t care. What matters to me is that I’m welcome at the Villa Brabanti for as long as I want to stay, and don’t you just wish you could say the same?”

  “I already can.”

  “After tonight’s little episode?” She laughed softly. “I really doubt that, contessa!”

  “Come away,” Iris begged, tugging on Janine’s arm. “You’re just digging yourself in deeper, don’t you see that? If she tells Gabriel about this—”

  “She won’t,” the contessa sneered, allowing herself to be drawn back along the gravel walk to the house. “Her pride won’t let her.”

  Too true! As if she’d accidentally touched something unspeakably foul, Eve gave a shudder, “Ugh!” she muttered, brushing her hands together in disgust.

  “My sentiments exactly,” a voice from the shadows rumbled, and this time it was her turn to squeal in shock.

  “What do you mean by sneaking up like that?” she gasped, when Gabriel emerged from a hidden path between the trees. “You scared me half out of my skin!”

  “I wasn’t sneaking,” he said calmly. “That’s never been my style. I merely took a shortcut to meet you as you requested.”

  “But you were eavesdropping!”

  “Yes, and finding it molto difficile to keep quiet. I was all ready to leap to your defense.” His grin flashed in the dusky light. “But inutile, si? Not necessary. You were very well able to defend yourself.”