She passed on, saving him the necessity of replying.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MARCO had said Harriet had an international reputation and she was discovering how true it was. The news that she had broken ‘the Manelli barrier’ was soon all over Rome, and her services began to be much in demand.

‘I’m here as an emissary,’ Marco said to her one evening. ‘Two of my colleagues at work want to consult you and they say you’re putting them off. I’ve promised to use my influence. They seem to think I have some,’ he added drily.

‘I was being tactful,’ Harriet said. ‘Precisely because they’re your colleagues it seemed better for me to stay clear. Suppose I give them wrong advice?’

‘Is that possible?’ he murmured slyly.

‘Tell them about the necklace,’ she challenged him.

‘The less said about that necklace the better,’ he said, almost teasing. ‘May I inform my associates that my influence has been successful?’

‘I’ll bet you’ve already done so.’

He grinned and didn’t deny it.

On this level they were easy with each other, but Harriet had learned that any attempt to draw closer to him was fruitless. After that one time in the garden he’d retreated into his shell, perhaps further back than before, wary, mistrustful of her and himself. Above all, mistrustful of what might happen between them.

It was lucky that she hadn’t fallen in love with him, as she’d briefly feared. The moment when she’d sensed approaching disaster had been a warning which ‘sensible Harriet’, now in the ascendant again, had heeded. Soon the time would come for them to go their separate ways, him to find a suitable bride elsewhere, and herself into an apartment in the city.

For she’d decided to stay here. With Marco’s help she’d reclaimed her Italian heritage, and she would always be grateful to him for that. But as more people sought her expertise she realised that she was laying the groundwork for a life here that didn’t include him.

So when he asked her to accompany him on a trip to visit a client, who lived in Corzena, about two hundred miles to the north of Rome, she had no trouble in claiming that her time was occupied.

‘You can surely spare a couple of days for me,’ he said impatiently.

‘I’m busy.’

‘Doing what?’

‘I beg your pardon!’

‘It can’t be that important.’

‘That’s for me to say,’ she insisted, riled by his tone. ‘Give me that!’

He’d snatched up the pad on which she’d scribbled notes on her current work.

‘The Vatican Museum,’ he read.

‘Signor Carelli has asked me to check some references for him.’ This should have been the killer fact, since Carelli was one of the banking colleagues for whom Marco had interceded. But he wasn’t impressed.

‘He won’t mind waiting,’ he said.

She knew it was true. She was finding excuses, and she wasn’t sure exactly why, except that she felt herself subtly moving away from him, and perhaps it was best to keep it that way.

‘I’m not going to ask him to wait,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve made my plans and I’d prefer to stick to them.’

‘Fine,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘I won’t ask again. Please tell my mother I called, and that I’ll be away for the rest of the week.’

And when he’d gone it all seemed so stupid. Why had she taken such a stubborn line? Why refuse to spend a couple of days in his company?

Because the prospect was far too agreeable, that was the answer. It was a relief that he’d left, making it too late to change her mind. Not that she wanted to change her mind.

Lucia slept late next day and Harriet breakfasted alone. She was just finishing her coffee when Marco walked in. Her heart’s flicker of delight was too intense to be ignored, but she concealed it.

‘I thought you’d be on your way by now,’ she exclaimed. ‘Weren’t you leaving early?’

He’d left in the dawn and driven for twenty miles before stopping the car and getting out to stand looking over the countryside. He’d stayed there for half an hour before getting back into the car and turning it around.

‘I’ve come back because I want you to be honest with me,’ he said quietly. ‘I want the real reason you won’t come to Corzena.’

‘I’ve already told you-’

‘Yes, you have, and it’s bull. You know it and I know it. I want the other reason-’ he faced her ‘-the one you can’t bring yourself to tell me.’

Alarm and pleasure seized her equally. Had he really guessed that she’d turned coward, backing off because she feared the growing strength of her own feelings for a man who was incapable of returning them? Or did he return them, and this was his way of creating the mood for a declaration?

‘Marco-’

‘Harriet,’ he said desperately, ‘I know. Did you really think I wouldn’t guess?’

‘You’ve guessed-?’ she whispered, not daring to hope.

‘When I started to think hard it became obvious-especially after what happened the night of the party-Harriet, I may not be the most sensitive man in the world, but I think I’m sensitive enough to see this. We’ve been honest with each other from the start, why didn’t you just tell me-? No, that’s stupid, isn’t it? How could you speak bluntly about such a delicate matter?’

‘Marco, are you saying-?’

‘I’ll make it easy for you by saying it myself.’ He took a deep breath, evidently having difficulty, and she waited, her heart beating eagerly. At last he said, ‘You don’t want to be alone with me. You’re afraid of what I’ll do.’

‘Wh-what?’

‘That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t trust me, to behave decently. But you can, I swear it.’

She was coming out of her happy daze to a chilly reality. ‘I see,’ she managed to say, hoping desperately that her face didn’t show her cruel disappointment.

‘This is business,’ he went on, ‘and my client is an important one. The bank tends to indulge his wishes, and his present wish is to meet you.’

‘That’s blackmail!’

‘Yes, I suppose it is, and that’s just why you can trust me. Having more or less coerced you into this trip the last thing I’d do would be put you in an awkward situation.’ He regarded her steadily. ‘I hope you understand me.’

She wanted to laugh, perhaps hysterically. ‘I think I do. You’re promising to be the perfect gentleman, no midnight taps on my door-’

‘I doubt our rooms will even be on the same floor. Our host is very old-fashioned. Nothing will happen, Harriet, you have my word of honour.’

She wanted to throw something at him and scream, I don’t want your word of honour. I don’t want you to be the perfect gentleman. I want you to kiss me as you did that night, and this time I don’t want you to stop. Oh, you idiot!

But instead she said coolly, ‘I suppose, that makes everything all right.’

‘I hoped it would. This is really important, he’s a very big client-’

‘Then we must keep him happy,’ she said brightly. ‘Business comes first, after all.’

He smiled at her. ‘You say that to the manner born.’

‘You think I might be a credit to you?’

He put his hands on her shoulders, smiling into her eyes in a way that made her hold her breath. If only-

‘You already are a credit to me,’ he said warmly. ‘I’m proud of you and I want to show you off. Get some clothes together quickly, while I go and see if my mother’s awake.’

As she packed she heard murmurs coming from Lucia’s room, and went in to bid her goodbye. ‘I’m sorry to rush off without notice-’

‘Nonsense. Go on and have a wonderful time, cara.’

It was a lovely day and their drive lay through beautiful countryside. Gradually her mood improved from the sheer pleasure of being with him. Marco drove fast but easily and with confidence, as he did everything.

‘Tell me about this man,’ she said.

‘Elvino Lucci is one of the richest men in Italy. He started with nothing and he’s built up to where he is through sheer hard work and brilliance. He’s been my mentor for years.’

‘I can’t picture you with a mentor, somehow. I don’t think you’d let him get a word in edgeways.’

‘Everyone needs a mentor,’ he said seriously. ‘Not just at the start but maybe for always, to give you a sense of perspective. I learned a lot from him when I was just starting, and he still has things to teach me.’

‘A great financial brain, then?’

‘The greatest. He believed in keeping his attention focused and never taking his eye off the ball.’

‘You mean there’s been nothing in his life but financial wheeling and dealing?’

‘He married and has a family, but he’s been a widower for ten years.’

‘I’ll bet he married an heiress.’

‘No, his own secretary.’

‘Oh, well, nothing like securing cheap labour.’

Marco laughed. ‘You may find him a little stiff and puritanical, but you’ll like him when you get to know each other.’

‘But why does he want to meet me?’ she asked lightly. ‘Am I being tested for suitability? If he gives me the thumbs down, am I out?’

‘Don’t be absurd. I think he’s just lonely.’

‘Lonely? With all that money?’

‘Harriet please don’t say that kind of thing in front him? I know it’s a joke, but he wouldn’t understand.’

‘Hey, you recognised a joke. Better not let him suspect that, or you might not be his white-headed boy any more.’

Diplomatically he didn’t answer this.

When they stopped for lunch Marco called Elvino Lucci to apologise for being late. Harriet could just make out the man’s voice.

‘You, late? That must be a first! Only something special would make Marco Calvani break the habits of a lifetime!’

‘It was,’ Marco said.

‘Well, I’m longing to meet her. I’m storing up a little surprise myself.’

They reached Corzena in the late afternoon. It was an old town built on a hill at the edge of a lake, with the villa on the lower part, near the shore. Huge wrought-iron gates swung open at their approach, and soon the house was in sight. There on the steps, waiting to greet them, was a tall man with white hair and a distinguished face. Beside him stood a very young woman who bore a strong resemblance to a sugar-coated doll. She had a mass of blonde hair, dressed high and wide, and sprayed into a confection like candyfloss. Her eyes were large and ingenuous.