The Venetian Playboy’s Bride

‘I am not quite sure, signorina,’ the man replied. ‘If I could have your name-?’

‘I am Lady-’ she stopped, suddenly swept by the wild gambling instinct that bedevilled her family ‘-please tell him that Lady Harriet Maddox is here.’

He bowed and retired, leaving Dulcie wondering if she’d gone quite mad.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. There was a hasty step on the marble floor, a voice calling, ‘Carissima,’ and she turned to see an elderly man standing there, his look of pleasure dissolving into bafflement. Even through his lines and white hair she could see the remains of remarkable good looks.

‘Forgive me,’ she said quickly, advancing with her hands outstretched. ‘I gave you the name of my great-aunt in the hope that you would remember it as well as she remembered you.’

He stretched out his own hands and clasped hers warmly. ‘Bellisima Harriet,’ he said. ‘How well I remember her! And how kind of you to visit me.’

He kissed her on both cheeks and looked warmly into her eyes. Although he must have been at least seventy, his charm was still dazzling and Dulcie felt its full effect. But she was unable to detect the slightest resemblance to the man with whom she’d spent the last few days.

‘So you are not Lady Harriet?’ he asked. ‘You are-?”

‘I am Lady Dulcie.’

The count commanded refreshment to be served on the terrace, and led her out there with her hand tucked in his arm, and his own other hand holding it. He handed her to a seat with an air of old-world gallantry, only releasing her hand at the very last moment.

‘I’m an old man,’ he said sadly, ‘and it’s so rare for me to have the pleasure of a beautiful woman on my arm. You’ll forgive me if I make the most of it?’

He was a shameless fraud, she thought, entertained by his slightly theatrical air. But it was easy to imagine him as ‘the latter-day Casanova’.

Over coffee and cakes he demanded to know all about her family in England.

‘Dear Harriet told me about Maddox Court where she grew up,’ he recalled, ‘and about her brother William-’

‘My grandfather.’

‘Still alive I hope?’

‘No, he died fifteen years ago.’

‘Then it is your father who is now the earl?’

‘Yes. But tell me about your family, your wife and children.’

‘Alas,’ he said mournfully, ‘I’m just a lonely old bachelor, with no wife or children to comfort my old age.’

And I’m the Queen of the May, she thought, amused. You’re just like my Uncle Joe who was fighting paternity suits in his sixties.

Aloud she said, ‘You mean you live in this great place, all alone?’

‘Well, there are servants,’ he said with a sigh. ‘But what are servants when a man is lonely? I have a nephew who will one day be the count. He’s a good boy, but not a comfort to me as a son would be.’

‘A nephew?’ she echoed, speaking lightly as though this was a matter of total indifference to her.

‘Three actually. The other two live in different parts of the country, but they’re visiting me now, and I should so like it if you would come to dinner with us this evening, and meet all three of them.’

‘That would be lovely.’

‘And please bring whoever is in Venice with you. Your husband perhaps?’

‘I have no husband, and I’m here alone.’

‘You must seek a husband in Venice,’ he said at once. ‘We make the best husbands.’

‘But how do you know?’ she teased him, ‘if you’ve never tried being one.’

He laughed heartily. ‘Bravissima. A lady of wit. Now I look forward to this evening even more. My boat will call for you at eight o’clock.’ He rose and took her hand again, leading her out to the landing stage where the gleaming white Calvani boat was waiting to take her back to the hotel.

He stood watching until the boat was out of sight. Then he returned to the terrace to finish the wine. Leo and Marco found him there, looking pleased with himself.

‘What mischief are you up to?’ Leo demanded at once.

‘Merely protecting my family line,’ Francesco said with relish. ‘I’ve introduced suitable women to Guido until I’ve grown exhausted doing it. But never let it be said I’ve shirked my duty. I thought there was nobody else left, but she’ll do very well.’

‘She? Who?’ they both wanted to know.

‘A lady of birth and breeding, and moreover, related to an old flame of my own.’

Leo began to protest, ‘But half the women in Europe are related to your-’

‘Silence. Show some respect. She’s coming to dinner tonight, and he’ll meet her.’

‘But he won’t be here,’ Marco observed. ‘He called to say he won’t be home tonight.’

‘Whatever engagement he has, he will break it.’

‘Uncle, there’s something you should-’

‘Enough. I expect you all to present yourself for dinner, properly attired out of respect for our guest. Now I shall take a nap, as I wish to be at my best tonight.’

Never had paperwork seemed more boring than the mountain of it that confronted Guido when he returned to work after playing hookey to be with Dulcie. He ploughed through it grimly, comforting himself with the thought of the evening ahead, when he would see her again.

He would take her out to a restaurant a safe distance from Venice where he could pass unrecognised, although soon that would cease to matter, because he would tell her the truth about himself.

He wondered if she would blame him for his innocent deception. Surely not, when once he’d poured out his heart to her? While she was ill and dependent on him he’d restrained himself, carefully editing out all passion, and even love. He could recall a few moments when his resolution had frayed, but he’d pulled himself back into line. No words had been spoken, but he knew they had understood each other perfectly. She must love him as he loved her. It was impossible that he should be mistaken about her.

Lost in his happy dream he didn’t at first hear the ring of his mobile phone and had to snatch it up hastily.

‘Where the devil are you?’ his uncle barked.

‘In my office, working hard,’ Guido said with a conscious attempt to sound virtuous.

It was wasted. ‘You’ve got time for all those knick-knacks you call a business, and time to fool around, but no time for your old uncle.’

‘That’s not fair-’

‘I’ve hardly seen you this last week.’

‘You’ve had Leo and Marco, you didn’t need me.’

‘Well, I need you tonight. We’re having a dinner party for a very special guest.’

‘Uncle please, not tonight, I’ve made plans-’

‘Nonsense, of course you haven’t. It’s all arranged. A beautiful lady is coming to dinner, and she’s looking forward to meeting you.’

Guido groaned. Another prospective wife. Would his uncle never learn? And how could he sit through this evening knowing that his heart had already chosen his future wife.

‘Uncle, let me explain-’

Francesco’s voice grew mournful. ‘There’s no need to explain. I’m an old man and I ask for very little. If even that little is too much, well, I suppose I understand.’

Guido ground his teeth as he always did when Francesco went into ‘forlorn mode’, because he knew he was going to give in. He was fond of his uncle and couldn’t bear to hurt him. His blissful evening began to recede.

‘All right, I’ll try to make it,’ he said.

‘You’re a good boy. I don’t want to be a trouble. Of course when a man gets to my age he always is a trouble-’

‘Uncle will you cut it out?’ Guido yelled. ‘I’ll be there, I swear it.’

‘All evening?’

‘All evening.’