It had struck her, too, that last night’s sleeping arrangements had set an exceedingly happy precedent for the rest of their stay in London. He could spend the next two nights in his dressing room as well!
As she sat in her armchair now, she kicked off her shoes. At least, she kicked off the right one. The left one she removed a little more gingerly, though she hadn’t felt a single twinge all day.
Damiano was watching her. He said, ‘The doctor phoned earlier to say he’ll drop by to give you your injection before dinner. So how’s it been today? Any better?’
‘A lot better. And, fortunately, I didn’t have to do a great deal of walking.’
‘I don’t expect you did if you were sitting drinking tea all afternoon.’ He smiled. ‘And you obviously drank a great deal of tea. I thought you were due back a couple of hours ago.’
‘I was, but, like you said, I drank a great deal of tea.’
Smiling to hide her guilty look at this lie she was telling, Sofia started to stand up, intending to head for her dressing room and cut short this conversation before he could start asking questions. ‘I think I’ll go and have a bath,’ she said. But then in mid-stride she paused, wondering if it was rather obvious that she was making an escape. So she lingered a moment, casting a casually curious glance at the printed sheets on the desk in front of him.
‘What’s that you’ve got there? What were you reading?’
The sharp, dark eyes continued to watch her for a moment before turning at last to cast a glance at the papers. ‘It’s my speech for tonight. I was just glancing through it before calling Carlo in to hear me run over it.’ Carlo was the personal assistant who accompanied the Duke everywhere.
Sofia had forgotten Damiano was due to give a speech at the dinner tonight—a formal affair at London’s Guildhall where most of the other guests, apart from Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip, would be chiefs of industry and top-ranking businessmen.
She glanced over his shoulder. ‘Can I have a look?’ she asked.
‘Sure.’ With a slightly surprised smile, Damiano gathered up the papers and handed them to her. ‘Though you may not be able to make a great deal of sense of it.’
And why would that be? Sofia reflected as she took the papers. Did he consider her too silly, too hopelessly immature even to understand his wretched speech? She felt a flash of indignation. When would he stop treating her like a child? It really was a bit insulting.
But as she glanced down at the papers she realised he’d been right. It was a little hard to make sense of what was written there.
She looked up at him. ‘These are only headings and things. Where’s the actual speech?’
‘The actual speech is in my head.’ He smiled. ‘At least I hope it is. These notes are just to remind me of the various points I want to make.’
‘Is that how you always do it? I mean you don’t write the whole thing out?’
Sofia had seen him making plenty of speeches over the years, but though she was aware that he rarely glanced at his notes she’d always assumed that, nevertheless, the entire speech was written out. And as he nodded now and told her, ‘Yes, I always do it like that,’ she felt a flare of annoyance that she hadn’t even known this much about him. But how could she when he kept her so firmly locked out of his life?
And it was probably her annoyance that prompted her to put to him, as she handed the sheaf of papers back to him, ‘OK, let me hear the speech. I can listen to it for you instead of Carlo.’ And she sat down in her chair again and waited for him to begin.
For a moment it looked as though he was about to say no. He tossed the papers back onto the desk and fixed her with a narrow look. But then he shrugged. ‘OK, why not? Let’s see what you make of this.’ And he got to his feet, slipping his hands into his dressing-gown pockets, and paced the floor as he began to speak.
‘Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, my lords, ladies and gentlemen...’
Sofia watched him as he proceeded to reel the whole speech off without referring once to the notes on the desk, her eyes travelling with admiration over the tall, muscular figure that had always thrilled her with its innate power and grace. Though she was being careful to concentrate above all on what he was saying. Since she had volunteered to take Carlo’s place, she must do the job properly!
At last he had finished. He stood facing her. ‘Well?’ he said.
Sofia clapped her hands in a brief burst of applause. ‘I think it’s very good,’ she said. In fact, she’d thought it was excellent. Smooth and informative and very funny in places. Not too long. Not too short. And most professionally delivered.
‘But there are just a couple of things I think you could maybe improve on.’ She offered this opinion a little warily, not at all certain how he would react. She was supposed to be totally empty-headed, after all. Some immature creature who understood nothing!
Damiano continued to watch her, hands in pockets. ‘What things specifically?’ he wanted to know.
‘Well, when you speak about the new Arts and Crafts Centre in Rino I think it would be a good idea if you were to elaborate a bit more. Maybe explain a little how the whole thing came about.’
He raised one dark eyebrow. Was he about to shoot her down in flames? But not all. Instead, he said, ‘Funny, I wondered about that myself. I think you’re right. I ought to elaborate a bit.’ He paused momentarily, an amused look in his eyes. ‘So what was the other point you wanted to make?’
Sofia felt a little bolder now after that unexpectedly positive response. She straightened in her seat. ‘The other thing,’ she told him, ‘is after you’ve finished talking about new investment... It seemed to me before you go on to the next bit, it might be a good idea to slip in a joke.’
‘A joke?’
‘Just to lighten it up a bit. I thought it could use a joke at that point.’
Damiano was clearly less convinced by this proposal. He frowned as he looked at her. ‘I don’t know that a joke would be right there.’ He crossed to the desk and glanced at the notes. ‘We’ll see,’ he said, still sounding doubtful.
Sofia shrugged to herself. Quite clearly, she was thinking, he was really only prepared to accept her suggestions when they were points he had already thought of himself. Still, it had been a novel experience and one she had rather enjoyed.
‘Apart from that,’ she told him, ‘I thought it was excellent.’
And as she said it she wondered if he would still get Carlo to come and listen. Probably, she decided. He probably trusted Carlo’s judgement more. Oh, well. She stood up. It didn’t matter a damn anyway. And she picked up her jacket and started to head towards her dressing room.
‘I think I’ll go and have that bath now and start thinking about getting changed,’ she said.
‘Right.’ Damiano was still glancing down at the notes and Sofia was almost at her dressing-room door before he spoke again. Straightening and turning to face her, he enquired in a suddenly flat tone, ‘Weren’t you planning to tell me about your visit to the Royal Ballet this afternoon?’
Sofia stopped guiltily in mid-stride. Damn, she was thinking. I might have guessed he would know. I might have realised it was madness to think I could keep anything from him.
She paused and turned to glance at him. ‘It slipped my mind,’ she said.
‘I don’t think it slipped your mind. I think you deliberately didn’t tell me.’ He continued to stand there by the walnut writing desk. ‘And I’m just curious to know why you would do that.’
Inwardly, Sofia sighed. Her visit to the ballet had been sprung on her as a total, delightful surprise. Clearly, someone at the embassy had remembered her love of ballet for suddenly, on the way back from Buckingham Palace to the embassy, her companion had announced that they were making a detour to Covent Garden where the Royal Ballet Company was in rehearsal.
‘I just stayed for a while and watched a bit of the rehearsal and spoke to some of the dancers and the director and the choreographer.’ Sofia�
��s tone was resentful. It had been a magical couple of hours. And she hadn’t told him about it because she hadn’t wanted it spoiled.
‘That must have been very interesting.’
‘It was very interesting indeed.’
She started to turn away again, but then Damiano said, ‘It seems to me there can be only one reason why you didn’t tell me. You’re nervous about broaching the subject of ballet. And that leads me to believe that you haven’t actually dealt yet with the little matter of your involvement in the Cinderella production.’ He stood looking at her, dark eyes narrowed. ‘Am I right?’
He was one hundred per cent right. Sofia had known very well that any mention of ballet would result in a resumption of that topic. And any resumption of that topic was bound to lead to a quarrel.
‘Yes,’ she said flatly. ‘As a matter of fact, you are right.’
‘Right about Cinderella?’
‘Right about everything.’ She darted him an angry look. Why did he have to be so damned smart?
‘You mean you haven’t informed them yet that you won’t be performing on stage?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Why not?’ He narrowed his eyes at her. And then he suggested, ‘Perhaps your ankle injury means that’s out of the. question anyway?’
Sofia shook her head. ‘No, that’s not the reason. The first performance of Cinderella is several weeks away and I’m sure my ankle will be perfectly healed by then.’ She tilted her chin and glared at him defiantly. ‘I haven’t said anything because I intend to go ahead as planned. I’m sorry, I’m not backing out just because you say so.’
‘I’m sorry but you are. And for the reasons I’ve already explained to you.’ His tone was as brittle as a piece of cracked granite. ‘I do not consider that appearing on stage in a tutu is a suitable pastime for the Duchess of San Rinaldo.’
It was the superior, authoritarian manner in which he said it, as though he were speaking to some reckless, irresponsible idiot, and in a tone of such total, indisputable finality, making it clear that there was no room for any kind of discussion, that suddenly caused something to snap inside Sofia.
She straightened as she faced him. ‘Are you aware of the way you talk to me? You talk to me as though I were some idiot five-year-old without a single grain of common sense to my name. Do you ever actually listen to yourself? Doesn’t it ever occur to you that I might deserve to be treated with a little more respect?’
As she paused, she half expected him to butt in and cut her short. But he did not. He just looked at her with a strange frown on his face, as though she had somehow taken him by surprise. And suddenly Sofia knew why. It was because she wasn’t shouting. For she had delivered her rebuke, in spite of her anger, in a perfectly controlled and calm tone of voice.
And that was the way she continued now as she told him, ‘I really don’t need to be told how to behave, you know. I’m aware of my responsibilities. I know I’m the Duchess of San Rinaldo and I’m perfectly conscious of all that that entails.’ Her eyes fixed on his face. ‘It might not be a bad thing, you know, if you were to try giving me the benefit of the doubt now and again. Try trusting my judgement.. You might be pleasantly surprised.’
She held the eyes that looked back at her full of curiosity for a moment more. Then, with perfect unruffled dignity, she turned and walked into her dressing room, closing the door quietly behind her.
A cheer went up from the crowd waiting outside the Guildhall as Sofia, wearing a stupendous fuchsia-pink gown—strapless with a tiny waist and a huge billowing skirt—stepped out of the limo behind Damiano, who was looking breathtakingly handsome in his black dinner suit. And as she responded with a wave and a dazzling smile for the photographers Sofia was having no trouble at all appearing radiantly happy. For some reason she was feeling in perfectly ebullient spirits.
Part of the reason was without doubt the effect of her dignified little speech, for speaking her mind like that had been wonderfully liberating, even though, of course, it had probably fallen on deaf ears. But Sofia didn’t care. For her, it had been a personal triumph. For the first time in her life she had stood up to him with dignity, without losing her temper, speaking rationally and calmly, and she felt as though she had crossed some crucial frontier. The hysterical child she’d once been was finally left behind.
The result was a heady sensation of self-confidence, a rush of joyful energy and a sudden sparkling good humour. Nothing in the world could put her down tonight.
The first one to taste her sparkling new mood had been Damiano. As they had been about to leave the palace he had told her, ‘I like the dress.’
And she, with a twinkling toss of her head, had replied, ‘I thought about wearing my tutu, but alas I forgot to pack it!’ And she’d enjoyed seeing the look of amused surprise on his face.
Once upon a time his bullying would have reduced her to tears. It felt terrific to be able just to toss it back in his face!
It was a sumptuous evening and a fabulous dinner, and Sofia, seated a few places along from Damiano, enjoyed herself even more than the previous evening, laughing and chatting with her neighbours, her happy mood seeming to increase with every minute.
And from time to time, when she caught Damiano looking at her—for this evening she was well aware of his glances!—she could sense as their eyes met a sudden recklessness within her. She would smile brightly back at him, letting her gaze linger for a moment, deliberately, wickedly, leading him on. For she could see quite clearly the admiration in his eyes, and the way that admiration would momentarily darken to desire. He wanted her tonight. But he would not have her. Tonight it would be his turn to be rejected at the last minute!
That gave her a wonderful, giddy sense of power. At last, the scales between them were beginning to even out.
Eventually the meal was over and it was time for the speeches. Sofia sat back in her seat as the steward announced, ‘His Grace the Duke of San Rinaldo!’
She watched with a strange mixture of pride and detachment as Damiano rose to his feet to a round of applause and a subdued collective sigh of female admiration and proceeded, with perfect poise, to launch into his speech. It was going to be a truly satisfying experience to put such an assured, desirable man in his place!
Sofia had been right about one thing. It was a very good speech. Her fellow diners were clearly as impressed with it as she had been. And when he came to the bit she had said ought to be expanded she felt a puff of satisfaction that it definitely worked better now. Mentally, she gave herself a pat on the back.
He was continuing, eyes roaming at ease round the audience. He’s good at this, Sofia thought. He has them in the palm of his hand. And it was just as she was thinking this that suddenly he glanced at her and she realised he was coming to the bit she’d said needed a joke. No doubt he was about to prove to her how wrong she’d been about that!
But she was in for a surprise. As the audience suddenly burst out laughing, he glanced at her again and, barely visibly, winked. In spite of her supposed detachment, Sofia’s heart squeezed with pleasure. Good heavens! He’d taken her advice after all!
It was as they were driving back to the embassy in the limousine afterwards that Damiano turned to look at her with a smile and challenged her, ‘So who says I don’t respect your judgement? After tonight you’ll never be able to accuse me of that again!’
‘Won’t I?’ Sofia wasn’t totally convinced about that. ‘How do I know it was me you actually listened to?’ she put to him.
Damiano looked back at her in surprise. ‘What do you mean how do you know? It was your idea, wasn’t it, to add a joke at that point?’
‘Yes, but you didn’t like the idea when I suggested it to you: She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Did you read the speech to Carlo as well?’
‘No, I did not. My, but you’re suspicious! I simply thought about it and decided you were absolutely right.’ He frowned at her for a moment and then, quite unexpectedly, he reached out for
her hand and took it in his. ‘From now on I must make a point of trying out my speeches on you first. I can see you have a talent I wasn’t aware of.’
Trying hard to ignore the way her flesh had jumped at the touch of his, Sofia tossed him a light smile. ‘I’m glad to have been of service.’ And privately she reflected, He’s trying to butter me up. For she had glimpsed again that dark look his eyes. Tonight he definitely had seduction on his mind. She glanced down at their clasped hands and deliberately did not remove hers. Let him believe, right till the last minute, that his seduction was working. Then she would deliver his ego a nice slap in the face.
And it was for that reason alone and definitely no other, she told herself, that she allowed him to hold her hand all the way back to the embassy.
‘So how do you feel? Do you fancy a nightcap before we turn in?’
Sofia and Damiano were back at the embassy, stepping into their sitting room with the softly illuminated bedroom beyond. Sofia smiled at him and sat down on the arm of one of the armchairs. ‘What kind of a nightcap did you have in mind?’ she asked, kicking off her shoes.
Damiano was slipping off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. ‘Anything you like. Brandy. Horlicks.’ He cast her an amused glance. ‘The brandy we’ve got here. If you want something hot, we’ll have to send down.’
‘Horlicks?’ Sofia wrinkled her nose at him. He really did take her for a child! But though, normally, that would have annoyed her, nothing could annoy her tonight. She leaned languidly against the back of her chair and told him, ‘I’ll have a brandy. A much more fitting beverage for the Duchess of San Rinaldo.’
She saw him smile. ‘I couldn’t agree more. I’m going to have one as well.’ Then, unbuttoning his collar and untying his bow-tie, letting the ends hang loose against his shirt front, he crossed to the small table where a selection of bottles was laid out.
Sofia watched him as he poured two measures into two crystal balloon glasses, aware that beneath his lashes he was watching her too as she continued to lean languidly back in her chair. She could feel his eyes on her naked shoulders, on her cleavage, and she knew very well that the way she was sitting her breasts were spilling generously over the top of the boned bodice. Well, he could look, but not touch. He could desire, but he would not have. The first move he made she would slap him firmly down.
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