by Sara Craven
And felt herself shiver.
Andrea came back into the room, closing the door behind him.
His voice was quiet, almost flat, without a hint of triumph. ‘A visitor has arrived from England and is waiting at the house. It appears he has brought with him the letter we have been waiting for.’ A muscle moved in his throat. ‘It is over at last.’
There was a silence, then the Contessa’s icy control snapped and she burst into tears. Andrea’s arms went round her, drawing against his shoulder as he whispered to her in his own language.
Maddie rose silently, went to the door and let herself out. As she paused in the hall, Domenica reappeared.
‘Why are you here?’ she demanded aggressively. ‘Did Her Excellency invite you to look round her house? I think no.’
‘I wish to find a bathroom,’ Maddie returned. ‘I suppose that is permitted.’
Domenica muttered something under her breath, and led the way upstairs to a spacious room tiled in pale blue and silver.
‘I wait here,’ she announced, stepping back into the passage.
In case I try to make off with the towels, thought Maddie, trying to derive some humour from the situation, and failing utterly.
She had a strong desire to emulate the Contessa and find release for her confused and troubling emotions in a flood of weeping.
Her legs were trembling so much she had to lean against the marble washbasin, while she splashed cold water over her face and wrists. Her reflection in the mirror above the basin was no comfort either. She looked as white as a ghost, her eyes hunted—haunted.
It was shock, she told herself. Shock mingled with relief that her ordeal was coming to an end at last. That was all.
And when she got to Casa Lupo and found Jeremy waiting for her, she would be fine again, and they’d face the inevitable problems together.
So why was it suddenly so difficult to form an image of him—let alone to remember the sound of his voice, or the feel of his arms around her?
A brief tap on the door made her snap out of her reverie. Domenica was clearly becoming impatient.
‘Uno momento,’ she called back, combing her hair back from her face with shaking fingers and struggling to re-
fasten the clip.
‘Do you want to search me?’ she began as she opened the door, then stopped, her face warming with embarrassment as she saw it was not Domenica but the Contessa waiting outside. ‘Oh—I—I’m sorry.’
‘There is no need.’ The Contessa’s eyes were red, but she was back in control. ‘My son has asked me to say that he wishes to leave as soon as possible.’
‘Yes,’ Maddie said, swallowing. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘And I sent my maid away so that I could speak privately to you,’ the older woman added. ‘I have an apology to make to you, signorina. I thought you must know the true nature of your future father-in-law, but were prepared to overlook this because of his wealth and position. Therefore, in my eyes, you were one of them.’
She paused. ‘Having met you, I no longer believe this, and accept that you had a right to know the reason for your involvement, and that you should hear it from me.’
‘My relationship with Mr Sylvester has never been easy,’ Maddie admitted. ‘And now it’s going to be more difficult than ever. I—I accept that too.
‘But, on the other hand, I’ve always told myself that I was marrying Jeremy, not his father, and I know my fiancé is just another innocent party in all this.’ She gave a determinedly bright smile. ‘We can work things out. I’m sure of it.’
There was a brief silence, then: ‘Your loyalty is commendable,’ said the Contessa, adding wryly, ‘and so is Domenica’s in a different way. She has always been ferociously devoted to me.’
‘I only saw the ferocious bit.’ Maddie hesitated. ‘Is she like that with all outsiders, or just me?’
‘Her grandmother was said to have the sight—the ability to see into the future,’ said Floria Valieri. ‘It seems she predicted that a fair-haired woman from across the sea would bring about the end of the House of the Wolf. Domenica was convinced from the first that it was you.’
Maddie shook her head. ‘She’s quite wrong. I’m sure I won’t be the last blonde foreigner to cross Andrea’s path.’
She forced another smile. ‘I know I made a lot of threats at the start and meant them, but that’s all over now.’ She took a breath. ‘And I promise that I shan’t make trouble for him when I get back to London. So you mustn’t worry about that.’
‘I am grateful for the reassurance.’ The Contessa gave her a meditative look. ‘Tuttavia, signorina, I fear it may be too late and the damage may already be done.’
She gave a brief, harsh sigh. ‘So be it. And now we must not keep Andrea waiting any longer.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE WAS IN the hall, pacing restlessly, his face strained and brooding. He came across to his mother, took her hands and kissed them, and then her cheek.
‘And now I deal with what remains to be done, Mammina.’ He looked down at her searchingly. ‘I proceed as we agreed? You have not changed your mind?’
‘Justice will be done,’ said the Contessa. ‘That is what matters. And our decision is made.’
He bent his head in affirmation, and Maddie felt a faint shiver pass through her.
He is Crime. I am Punishment.
She’d thought Andrea didn’t know what he’d taken on with Nigel Sylvester. She now saw that the boot was on the other foot.
As they left the villa to walk back to the car, Maddie glanced back and saw a familiar face peering at her from a front window, her clenched fist extended.
‘What does this mean?’ She demonstrated.
Andrea frowned. ‘It is the mano cornuto,’ he said brusquely. ‘Protection against the evil eye. I suppose it is Domenica?’
‘Yes, but I think she’s being a little over-cautious.’ She tried to speak lightly. ‘After all, she’s never going to see me again.’
‘I am sorry she ever saw you at all,’ was the harsh return. ‘I put her in charge of you because my mother taught her to speak English, and I thought it would make matters easier. I see now that it was a mistake.’
‘Your mother’s English is wonderful,’ she ventured.
‘She learned languages as part of her training. She is also fluent in French, and can speak some German.’
She was silent for a moment, then said with constraint, ‘If the letter does what you want, do you think she will sing again?’
He shrugged. ‘Non lo so. Who can tell?’
Which closed another conversational avenue, thought Maddie, her throat tightening. But why should that matter when Jeremy was only a relatively short drive away from her and they would be going home together? As soon as I see him, she told herself restlessly, as soon as he takes me in his arms, everything will be all right again. Besides, I can stand up to his father now, which will make our future together so much easier.
I know it.
And she kept whispering these three words under her breath like a mantra as they drove swiftly and silently back to Casa Lupo.
At the house, a strange car was waiting at one side of the drive, its driver leaning against the bonnet and smoking a cigarette.
Eustacio was standing on the steps, his expression frankly anxious, as he watched his employer’s car come to a halt. As Andrea left the vehicle, he was greeted by a flood of Italian, and he paused for a clearly soothing word before allowing Maddie to precede him into the house.
In the hall, she paused, staring at the wall of panelling, the final barrier, and heard Andrea just behind her say very quietly, ‘Maddalena.’
She had a crazy, terrifying impulse to turn and fling herself into his arms, to beg him to hold her and keep her safe forever, and found herself fighting it with every atom of resolve she possessed.
‘My name is Maddie,’ she said. ‘Maddie Lang. And I’d like to see my fiancé, please.’
Watching him
open the door into the salone, Maddie’s heart was thudding painfully and she was conscious of a slight feeling of nausea.
She thought, Jeremy’s waiting for me but I don’t want to go in there. I don’t want to face him, yet I must. I must...
Then adjured herself sharply for being a fool, because this was the moment she’d been waiting for over all these long days and nights. This and nothing else...
It had to be.
Head high, she marched past Andrea into the room and stopped dead, her hand flying to her mouth, because the man rising from a chair beside the fireplace was not Jeremy at all but a complete stranger, of more than medium height and corpulent with thinning grey hair and a florid face.
He said, ‘You’ll be Miss Lang. For a supposed kidnap victim you seem to be kept on a pretty loose rein. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?’
Andrea said evenly, ‘If we had known of your arrival, signore, the inconvenience could have been avoided.’
The newcomer looked him up and down. ‘I’m here to make a delivery to a Count Valieri, while you, young lady, pack your things. We’re catching an evening flight from Genoa.’
Maddie stiffened, but Andrea was intervening courteously. ‘I think your name is Simpson, signore. May I welcome you to my home?’
‘We don’t have time for that,’ the older man said sharply. ‘My instructions are to do the business and leave with the girl.’ He turned to Maddie. ‘Hurry up, dear. You’ve caused enough trouble without making us miss that plane.’
She said in a shaking voice, ‘How dare you talk to me like that? And where is Jeremy, my fiancé? Why isn’t he here?’
He pursed his lips. ‘You think my client would allow him to walk into another extortionist trap? Oh, no, sweetheart. Your little escapade has cost quite enough.
‘And I’ve been retained to collect you, safe and unharmed as promised by your kidnapper and return you to London.’
He opened a briefcase beside his chair and extracted an envelope. ‘As for the so-called Count, he gets this in exchange for you. And I want a receipt.’
Andrea’s smile was icy. ‘I hope you will not object if I check the contents of the envelope before I release Signorina Lang into your custody.’
He took the envelope from the other’s reluctant grasp and walked to the window at the far end of the room, standing with his back turned as he scanned its contents.
Maddie stared at the fireplace where a small fire was burning, wishing the cheerful flames could melt the block of ice inside her.
She thought, Supposing—supposing it doesn’t say what they want? What he’s expecting? What will happen then?
And remembered Floria Valieri’s words, ‘Justice will be done.’
But he came back looking cool and unruffled, the envelope in his hand.
‘Your client has kept his word,’ he said. ‘I shall keep mine. I will arrange for Signorina Lang’s clothes and other possessions to be packed and brought down immediately.’
‘I think,’ Maddie said coldly and quietly, ‘that is for me to decide, so please both of you stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here.’ She turned to the older man. ‘I shall not be travelling with you, Mr Simpson, tonight or at any other time. Explain to your client that I arrived alone and I shall go back alone when I choose to do so, using my own return ticket.’
‘Those aren’t my client’s instructions.’
‘You’re paid to do his bidding,’ said Maddie. ‘I, however, am not.’ She added crisply, ‘And if he wished me to comply, he should have sent a messenger with a different attitude. Tell him that as well.’
‘But he’ll be waiting...’
‘And I’ve been waiting too,’ Maddie returned. ‘For quite a long time, considering I expected to be out of here in forty-eight hours at most. Maybe you should also mention that.’
Mr Simpson turned on Andrea. He seemed to be swelling visibly. ‘This breaks the agreement.’
Andrea shrugged. ‘How can that be?’ he drawled. ‘I have released Signorina Lang. She is no longer under my control—or that of anyone else, it seems. Nor can I force her to return with you.’ He paused meditatively. ‘You could, I suppose, drag her to your car, but I would not recommend it.’
‘Nor would I,’ said Maddie.
‘I’m beginning to think you’re in this with him,’ Mr Simpson said glaring at her. ‘Maybe I should take that envelope back.’
‘Then think again, because you will not get it.’ Andrea’s tone was ice. ‘Let us not stray into the realms of fantasy, signore. The signorina and I met for the first time on the night she was brought here and she has been held against her will ever since. Only two days ago, she risked her safety and her health by trying to escape. She will rejoin her future husband when she chooses to do so.’
‘And what guarantee does he have of that?’ Mr Simpson demanded.
‘My sworn promise,’ Andrea said quietly. ‘Which once again he will have to trust.’ He crossed to the door and opened it. ‘Addio, signore. I cannot pretend it has been a pleasure.’
Mr Simpson hesitated, as if searching for a reply, then contented himself with grabbing his briefcase and storming out. A moment or two later, his car was heard to roar off down the drive.
Maddie said roundly, ‘What an obnoxious little toad.’
Andrea closed the door and walked back to where she was standing. ‘Even so, that was not wise, Maddalena.’
She stared at him. ‘You think I should have gone with him?’
‘You have told me many times that you only wished to be free,’ he countered harshly. ‘To prove it you ran away. Now it is over, and you have the chance to leave and every reason to do so, but instead you stay. Why?’
The enormity of the question and its implications made her reel inwardly, grasping at straws to answer him. Didn’t he know? Hadn’t he sensed her emotional turmoil? Guessed the reason for her inner confusion?
‘I—I suppose I was a bit thrown.’ Her voice was uneven. ‘I was so sure that it would be Jeremy here today. That he would come for me himself. I—I was counting on it.’
Which was certainly the truth.
He said flatly, ‘I am sorry your faith was not rewarded.’
She swallowed. ‘But I’ll go tomorrow, if Camillo can be spared to drive me to Genoa. I’ll find a hotel there, until I can get a plane home.’
Unless you ask me to stay...
‘That will not be necessary. I shall make arrangements for you to be on the next convenient flight tomorrow.’ He held out the envelope. ‘As this is the reason for your recent ordeal, you should read it.’
He added quietly, ‘It will confirm everything you learned earlier today. So take it, Maddalena, per favore.’
The single sheet was hand-written, the pen in places almost gouging narrow channels in the expensive paper.
Maddie found she was holding it with her fingertips, as if to avoid contamination as she scanned the closely written lines, beginning ‘I, Nigel Walton Sylvester...’
He admitted everything, without excuse or apology. The money had been taken from dormant foreign accounts to finance his private share deals. These high-risk investments had been unsuccessful, and he had not been able to conceal what he had done by repaying the money.
He had realised Tommaso Marchetti’s investigation into irregularities in the Milan branch would lead to his disgrace and an inevitable jail sentence. Determined to save himself at all costs when the other man refused to help cover up his illegal activities, he had deliberately laid a false trail, implicating his former friend as the real thief.
In court, it would have been a matter of one man’s word against another’s and he was confident that the evidence he had fabricated would lead to a conviction, when the case came to trial.
In the event, because of the prison stabbing, this belief was never tested.
But he now declared that Tommaso Marchetti was innocent of all the charges brought against him.
This was followed by hi
s signature and the date.
Maddie drew a deep breath as she handed the letter back. ‘Your father was his friend,’ she said. ‘Yet he doesn’t say one word of regret or remorse about his death.’
‘The letter was written under protest, Maddalena, not out of decency. He wished only to stop me making public the evidence I already possessed.’
‘When—when did he learn about that?’
He shrugged. ‘Forgive me, but I do not remember.’
‘No?’ She smiled bitterly. ‘I bet it was when you discovered that he wouldn’t lift a finger to get me back, and you needed to exert some real pressure.’
‘Non importa. He has confessed, and my father has been vindicated at last. That is what matters.’
‘But it can’t end there,’ Maddie protested. ‘You have his confession. You must intend to use it.’
‘We wished for reparation,’ Andrea said simply. ‘He has made it. Also, he has had to refuse the great honour intended for him. For such a man that is punishment enough, I think. So now, I will take the action agreed with my mother.’
He tore the letter across, walked to the fireplace and dropped the pieces on to the flickering flames.
‘Oh God,’ Maddie said appalled, and would have made a grab for them if he hadn’t restrained her. ‘What have you done? Have you gone completely mad? You’ve destroyed your most valuable piece of evidence.’
‘But how will he ever know?’ Andrea asked quietly. ‘Unless you tell him.’
She said slowly, ‘“Justice will be done.”’ She sighed. ‘I understand now what your mother meant.’ She paused. ‘It—it’s been quite a day. I think I’ll go to my room for a while.’
‘As you wish.’ He crossed the room and opened the door for her. ‘Can you remember your way, or shall I send for Luisa?’
‘I can manage.’ She glanced at him under her lashes. ‘By now I could probably find your hidden doors, if I was pushed.’
‘Or those you have seen, at least.’ His smile was swift and polite.
Treating her, she thought, as if she was a guest—nothing more. And a guest who had outstayed her welcome. But then what else had she really expected...?
