‘I know that my uncle would be anxious to extend to you his hospitality,’ he said smoothly. ‘He’s giving a fancy-dress masked ball next week, and your presence, with your daughter, would make it complete.’
Roscoe’s snobbery warred with his desire to hasten Jenny back to England. Snobbery won.
‘That’s generous of you,’ he bawled. ‘We’d like that, wouldn’t we, pet? That’s very-well, I must say-’
Under cover of his noisy pleasure, Guido murmured to Dulcie, ‘
‘He was getting on my wick,’ Dulcie said crisply.
Roscoe had recovered himself and was wringing Guido’s hand. ‘Tell your uncle I’ll come to see him right away. Men of substance should stick together-’
‘My uncle is away just now,’ Guido improvised hastily, ‘but he will have the pleasure of your acquaintance at the ball.’ He turned swiftly to Dulcie before Roscoe could think of any more tortures for him. ‘I understand that you will be there,
‘But I-’ the hapless Fede started to say.
‘Not now,’ Guido said through gritted teeth, urging him out with more vigour than gentleness. ‘For pity’s sake, my friend, quit while you’re ahead.’
CHAPTER TEN
GUIDO had prevented Roscoe taking Jenny away, thus buying the lovers some time, but the strain of the ensuing days nearly turned Dulcie’s hair white.
He moved into the suite, taking over the second bedroom so that Jenny and Dulcie had to share the first. He spent his time exploring the city, dragging his daughter along, and proud to bursting point of having Lady Dulcie as his guide.
He demanded a full account of her dinner at the
‘Just because I’m a self-made man it doesn’t follow that I’m an ignoramus,’ he declared belligerently. ‘And I don’t want any mistakes in that direction.’
Dulcie assured him that nobody could possibly make any mistakes.
Guido telephoned her once, explaining coolly that the best masquerade outfits were to be found at a shop in the Calle Morento. She should take Jenny there and make sure she chose a Columbine costume.
‘Shouldn’t that be me?’ she asked wryly.
‘On no account. They have a wide choice and I’m sure you’ll find something suitable, but definitely not Columbine. But please tell Jenny that if all goes well she’ll be with Fede from then on.’
‘You’re planning for them to run away that night?’
‘I’m planning a little more than that, but everything has to be done just right.’
‘Do I have any part to play?’
‘Yes, and I’m sure you’ll play it superbly when the time comes.’
But you don’t trust me enough to tell me now, she thought.
‘A lot depends on your following my instructions exactly,’ Guido continued. ‘Put yourself in the assistant’s hands, she knows your requirements.’
‘I suppose you have a connection with the shop?’
‘I own it,’ he said with some surprise.
‘Of course.’
That was her only contact with him. There wasn’t another word, and she was too proud to seek him out again. Although he wanted her to stay, he hadn’t relented. She would be useful in his plan to help Jenny and Fede. That was all.
It was hard to believe that the magical web that had been spun between them during those few precious days could have been wrecked so easily: harder still to realise that the gentle jester who’d nursed and protected her was also the austere man who judged her harshly.
And unreasonably, she reminded herself. Her deception might have been greater than his, but he could have sorted it all out in a moment. Instead he’d let her mistake pass because-because of what? Something he couldn’t bear to tell her. She might guess, but it was better not to, because then the ache of ‘might-have-been’ started all over again.
She’d thought that Simon had left her unhappy, but now she could see that misery in proportion. He’d been a skunk all the time and she was well rid of him. She’d known that even while she suffered. But Guido was different. She’d fallen deeply in love with him during those few precious days alone, and now that he’d changed towards her she couldn’t dismiss it as a lucky escape. He was the one. Unlikely as it seemed there had been truth between them, concealed, perhaps, by masks, but he himself had said, ‘when people’s faces are hidden they are free to become their true selves.’
If only things had been different, how they could have enjoyed discovering their own and each other’s true selves. It could have been the work of a lifetime.
Now there was nothing, and a fearful blank facing her. She couldn’t persuade this man because she didn’t know him. And the new Guido, curt, withdrawn, unreachable, was an alarming man.
As he wanted she took Jenny to the hire shop. Roscoe insisted on accompanying them, and chose a lavishly bejewelled Henry VIII costume for himself. Dulcie beat off his efforts to dress her as Anne Boleyn, but then he insisted on Cleopatra, which she felt was almost as bad.
Jenny went through this in a dream, following Guido’s instructions as relayed by Dulcie, but without conviction. With her father’s arrival her confidence seemed to have drained away. Despite her brave words about being of age and pleasing herself she reacted to Roscoe like a rabbit trapped in headlamps. Sometimes she managed to telephone Fede, but the conversations were always hurried affairs and she usually had to hang up quickly.
‘Stand up to your father,’ Dulcie insisted one evening. ‘Tell him you’re going to marry Fede and that’s it. Or just walk out.’
‘You make it sound so easy,’ Jenny sighed.
‘It is easy.’
‘It would be for you. You’re not afraid of anyone or anything.’
I’m afraid of my future, Dulcie thought. It’s looking bleak and lonely right now.
‘Dulcie, what am I going to do? You say Guido’s going to make everything right, but how? If it doesn’t work, Dad’s going to haul me off home. I can’t see Fede, I can only call him for a minute at a time. Dad watches me like a hawk.’
‘Write Fede a letter,’ Dulcie said at once. ‘I’ll take it to him.’
‘You’d do that for me? Oh, thank you.’
‘Write it now. Will Fede be rowing tonight?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jenny said, scribbling hurriedly. ‘But I’ll give you his family’s address.’
In a couple of minutes the letter was being sealed in an envelope, and Dulcie was hurrying out, hoping to avoid Roscoe, but failing.
‘Where are you going?’ he boomed. ‘It’s time to go out to dinner.’
‘I’ll join you later. I’ve got something to do first.’
‘Don’t be late.’
She had to consult a map to find the tiny Calle Marcello, well away from the tourist haunts. Darkness was falling, lights blazed from the grocery shops that were still open, and from the rooms overhead.
She found the little alley and almost walked past no: 36. The door was dark and easy to miss. She hesitated before knocking, suddenly shy. From inside she could hear sounds of movement, cheerful voices, laughter. She knocked.
The door was opened by Guido.
For a moment they stared at each other. Dulcie found no softening in his face, only a dismay as great as her own.
‘I came to see Fede,’ she said at last. ‘Is he here?’
