‘You’re very pale, and you’ve been quiet the last couple of days.’
‘I just don’t enjoy flying,’ Harriet put her off.
It was true that she’d been quiet ever since the moment she’d seen her lover leave in the dawn, and lain there, aching with desolation.
She acquitted him of deliberate unkindness. She would never forget that he’d returned to the house to comfort her, how gently he’d spoken, and how much understanding he’d shown. He’d felt with her, as only a truly sensitive man could have done, and she would always love him for it.
In the moments of passion, too, he’d treated her with great tenderness. But then he’d left her alone in a way that felt nothing less than brutal.
The next day Lucia had told her excitedly of Marco’s encounter with the Baroness d’Alari, and the way he’d risked losing valuable business to defend her. That too warmed her heart, but it cooled again when she realised that he wasn’t going to tell her himself.
She could sympathise with the wariness that made him shrink from too much human contact. She could even pity him for it. But she increasingly felt that she couldn’t live with it.
A resolution had formed in her, to leave as soon as possible after the wedding. It would break her heart, but the misery would be short-lived, unlike the misery of being married to a man who would allow himself to get close to her only to withdraw as though she’d turned into an enemy.
With the decision taken she pushed it aside until after the coming weddings, determined not to spoil them for anyone else. At Rome airport she greeted Marco with cool composure, and a smile that gave away no more than did his own. This was her first trip to Venice, and she was going to enjoy it. She could be wretched later.
The Calvani family began to gather in Venice two days before the first wedding. The Rome party arrived to find Guido and Dulcie waiting for them with two motor boats to take them across the lagoon, one driven by Guido himself.
‘You’re lucky he’s not trying to take you in a gondola,’ Dulcie chuckled, referring to their early courtship when she’d thought he was a gondolier, and he’d let her go on believing it, thinking that he was luring her into his net, while actually he was the one being lured.
The Palazzo Calvani was a treasure trove of masterpieces and Harriet soon settled to explore it in the company of the count’s archivist, who had been put at her disposal.
Leo turned up next day, looking less cheerful than Harriet remembered. She and Dulcie were both fond of him, and it took them no time to divine his trouble. Settling on the big sofa, one each side of him, they went onto the attack.
‘You’ve found her at last,’ Harriet said.
He played dumb. ‘Her?’
She thumped his shoulder. ‘You know what I mean.
‘What’s her name?’ Dulcie demanded.
‘Selena. I met her in Texas. We stayed at the same ranch after she had an accident with her horse trailer.’
He fell silent.
‘And?’ they asked, in an agony of impatience.
‘We practised for the rodeo together.’
‘She fell off. So did I. Mind you, she only fell off in the practise ring, and I did it in front of a crowd of thousands. But we both fell off.’
‘So you started with something in common,’ Dulcie said wisely.
‘A marriage of true minds,’ Harriet agreed.
‘I shouldn’t think minds had much to do with it,’ Dulcie observed, recalling certain tales Guido had told her about Leo.
‘Nothing at all,’ Leo sighed like a man remembering bliss. ‘It was wonderful.’
Harriet’s lips twitched as she met Dulcie’s eyes, equally full of mirth.
‘You should have brought her here to meet us,’ she said.
‘That’s just the trouble, I don’t know where to find her.’
‘But didn’t you exchange names and addresses?’ Dulcie asked.
‘Yes, but-’ He plunged into a long account of the troubles that had separated him from his true love, finishing gloomily, ‘I might never see her again.’
A cry of, ‘Hey, Leo!’ made him drift off to join the other men. Dulcie and Harriet refused to meet each other’s eyes, but at last they couldn’t stand it, and burst out laughing.
‘Oh, we mustn’t,’ Harriet said, conscience stricken. ‘We’re terrible to laugh.’
‘I know,’ Dulcie choked. ‘But I can’t help it. Did you ever hear such a crazy story?’
Harriet shook her head. ‘Poor Leo. It could only happen to him.’
The next day they all gathered in the small side chapel of St Mark’s Basilica, for the wedding of Count Calvani to his beloved Liza. The count’s three nephews were groomsmen, and Liza was attended by the three ladies.
The reception was a strange affair. Despite her new status Liza was first and foremost a housewife who’d spent the last three months organising Dulcie and Guido’s wedding, set for next day. This was a big society occasion, with enough guests to fill the glorious St Mark’s Basilica, followed by a huge reception at the Palazzo Calvani which she insisted on overseeing in every detail.
She lingered at her own reception long enough for her devoted groom to toast her, then hurried off to the kitchens, for ‘a quick look.’ At last Count Francesco yielded to the inevitable and followed her.
‘I don’t think she appreciates her good fortune at all,’ Lucia said in bafflement. ‘She treats him really badly.’
‘That may be the secret,’ Guido said with a grin. ‘After all the women who put themselves out to catch his eye, the one he loves is the one who makes him fight for her attention.’
After that the party broke up into couples. Guido and Dulcie wandered away, arms about each other. Leo and Lucia settled down for a long comfortable talk in the moonlit garden, and Marco said abruptly to Harriet, ‘Shall we take a walk?’
Venice at night, a city of dark alleys leading to mystery, half-lights, ancient stones, shadows. The faint sound of music reached them, intermingled with the haunting cries of gondoliers echoing back and forth through the tiny canals. They strolled in silence for a while, walking apart.
‘I thought we should talk,’ he said.
‘It’s time,’ she agreed.
‘Watching that wedding service today made me do a lot of thinking. You, too, I expect.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she mused. ‘A lot.’
‘They say one wedding begets another. Don’t you realise how people are looking at us, expecting us to name the day?’
‘I had noticed the odd significant look.’
‘Tomorrow might be a good time.’
‘A time for-?’ she asked cautiously.
‘To announce a wedding date. We’ve had enough time to make a decision. My own decision is made. I did a wise thing when I came to London to find you. And you’re a natural Roman, anyone can see that. You’re even building up a clientele. When you move your business here you’ll have the basics already. We make a perfect team.’
‘Looked at like that, I suppose we do,’ she mused.
‘So can I tell my mother that it’s settled?’ he asked briskly.
This was it? This was a proposal of marriage in the softly lit alleys of Venice, with the stars glowing up above, and the atmosphere of romance all around? She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘I don’t think we should rush a decision,’ she said at last. ‘You say I’m suitable because I’m a natural Roman and because I’ve already started to build up a clientele. That’s a pretty narrow list of qualifications for a wife. Also, there’s something that’s never been mentioned between us, and perhaps it should be.’
‘I was waiting for you to speak about it,’ he said. ‘That night we spent together-came as quite a surprise.’
