‘Who is that lady?’ he asked, getting in beside Elise.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.’
‘She seems to know you, if the looks she’s been giving you are anything to go by.’
It was a short journey to The Ritz, where a lavish buffet had been laid on in the grandiose suite Ben had insisted on occupying. Elise would have preferred a quiet affair, but she’d splashed out on Ben’s funeral out of a kind of guilt. Now he was dead she felt uneasy about her hostility, no matter how much he’d deserved it. She couldn’t grieve but she could give him the kind of send-off he would have wanted, suitable for a wealthy, important man, even if the wealth had often been a conjuring trick and the importance had existed only in his head.
As she entered the room a mirror told her that she looked perfect for the role of elegant widow in her neatly fitting black dress, small black hat over blonde hair, styled severely. She was an expert in the art of appearance, having once dreamed of being a clothes designer. Events had ended her training abruptly, but her skill remained.
Without conceit, Elsie knew that she was beautiful. For the last eight years she’d had nothing to do except be lovely, elegant and sexy, because that was what Ben had wanted. She had been his property and he’d expected his property to be perfect. Her life had become a round of gym sessions and beauty parlours.
Nature had given her the good looks to start with, a figure that was easy to keep slim, hair that was naturally blonde and luxuriant, eyes that were large and deep blue. The arts of the coiffeur and masseuse had been employed to great effect, until she’d turned into the perfect finished article.
She was everything the world expected-graceful, chic, always uttering the right words. Only she knew how empty she was inside. But she did not care.
There was another truth about her, but she’d lost sight of it so long ago that she’d almost forgotten it. In that hidden place there was wild feeling, death-defying emotion, passionate desire. She’d shut those away when she’d married Ben and now she could no longer find the key.
Elise made her rounds, ensuring that everyone had enough to eat and drink and the proper attention. But proper for what? She no longer had any connection with these people. Soon she would be completely free.
Just a little longer, she promised herself.
Signor Farnese was occupying himself talking with the other guests.
Networking, she thought, remembering Ben at similar gatherings.
But this was different. Ben had always been trying to attract the attention of the others, seeking to impress them. With Vincente Farnese it was the opposite. Everyone knew who he was and wanted to catch his eye. If it pleased him he acknowledged their presence, otherwise he dismissed them with a brief nod, courteous but final.
He was everything that Ben had wanted to be, she thought-a handsome, healthy animal, with a face that, despite its strength and good looks, was also shrewd and wary, giving him an edge of danger. His eyes were the darkest she had ever seen, yet an all-seeing light came from their depths. He looked as if he’d mastered life, and intended to go on mastering it.
The chief lion in the pack, she thought. So why is he here?
He was abstemious-eating nothing and making one glass of wine last for two hours-and, to her heightened imagination, there seemed something ominous even in that.
The woman Elise had noticed ate and drank with gusto. Like the man, she seemed to be waiting for something.
At last the goodbyes were said and Elise turned with a fixed smile to address her unknown guest.
‘I’m so sorry, we haven’t been introduced,’ she said politely. ‘It was so kind of you to-’
‘Don’t waste time with that stuff,’ the woman interrupted rudely. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t. Were you a friend of my husband?’
‘Friend? Hah! You could put it like that.’
‘I see.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Perhaps you were with him when he had his heart attack?’
The woman gave a squeal of laughter, full of wine.
‘No, I heard about that, but it wasn’t me. I must say I’ve got to hand it to you, cool as a cucumber in front of all these people, when you must have known what everyone was thinking.’
‘What matters is that none of them knew what
‘Oh, good for you! You’re diamond-hard, aren’t you?’
‘When I have to be,’ Elise said quietly. ‘Perhaps you should be careful.’
The waiters were clearing away. Elise stood back to let them depart, then returned to what was clearly going to be a battle. Fine. She was just in the mood.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded.
‘Mary Connish-Fontain,’ said the other woman deliberately, stressing the double barrel.
‘Is that supposed to mean something to me?’
‘It will, when I’m finished. I came here to demand justice for my son.
Out of the corner of her eye Elise was aware that Vincente Farnese had become mysteriously alert, although he never moved.
‘You had a son by my husband?’ Elise asked slowly.
‘His name’s Jerry. He’s six.’
Six. Elise had been Ben’s wife for eight years. But it wasn’t a surprise.
‘Are you saying that Ben was supporting you?’ Elise asked. ‘I don’t believe it. I’ve been through his financial affairs and there’s nothing about you or a child.’
‘There wouldn’t be. We broke up before Jerry’s birth. He-he didn’t want to hurt you.’
If Elise had believed her before, she didn’t now. Ben had never cared about hurting her.
‘I married someone else,’ Mary went on. ‘But now we’ve split up.’
‘What’s his name?’ Signor Farnese asked suddenly.
‘Alaric Connish-Fontain,’ Mary said, puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘It’s an unusual name. I recognised it at once. Your husband’s crash into bankruptcy was really spectacular. No wonder you’re looking for new fish to fry.’
‘How dare you?’ Mary snapped.
‘Forgive me. Your motives are, of course, as pure as the driven snow.’
‘How did he feel about Ben’s son?’ Elise intervened.
Mary shrugged. ‘He thought Jerry was his.’
‘But when he lost all his money Jerry suddenly became Ben’s,’ Elise said scornfully. ‘Don’t take me for a fool.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ agreed Signor Farnese.
‘You can say what you like,’ Mary snapped. ‘I want what’s right for my son. He should be Ben’s heir and I’m going to see that he is. You’ve got a posh house, so sell it, and I want half.
The last words came out as a scream, for Elise had started to laugh. She shook with mirth until she felt she might choke, while her enemy regarded her in frustration.
‘I’m telling you, sell your house,’ she repeated furiously.
‘There is no house,’ Elise said, calming herself. ‘That’s why I’m living in a hotel. Ben already sold our house. It was his way of forcing me to go to Italy with him.’
‘Then you’ve got the money. I know all about property laws-’
‘Somehow that comes as no surprise,’ the dark Italian murmured. ‘If there’s one woman I feel I could rely on to know about property laws, it’s you.’
‘So I’ve protected myself, so what? Husband and wife own the marital home jointly-’
‘True,’ Elise agreed. ‘That’s why Ben went about it in a twisty way. First he took out a huge mortgage on our London home, forging my signature when necessary. Then he bought a place in Italy. By the time I found out, it was too late. The money was already out of this country.’
‘Don’t give me that,’ Mary sneered. ‘You married Ben for his money and you’ve had eight years to put aside a
