THE ITALIAN DUKE’S WIFE Read online

  murdered my own brother."

  As she heard the pain in his voice it occurred to

  Jodie that Caterina must have known how he would

  react, and that her decision would have been motivated

  by her desire to inflict that pain and guilt on

  him.

  "I can never forgive myself for it — never!"

  "It was Caterina who made the decision — not you,"

  Jodie pointed out quietly. "It was her child, and her

  body. You weren’t even the father."

  "If I had been there is no way she would have been

  allowed to do what she did," Lorenzo told Jodie passionately.

  "Not even if I had to lock her up for nine

  months to make sure of it." He fell silent for a moment,

  then spoke more quietly. "My mother once told

  me that she hadn’t wanted me. She hadn’t even really

  wanted to marry my father. There had been family

  pressure, and she had decided that marriage to him

  was at least a form of escape from the strict control

  of her parents." Lorenzo’s voice was bleak.

  "I was so lucky to have two parents who loved one

  another, and me," Jodie commented softly. She

  couldn’t begin to image what it must have been like

  for a young child to be told by his mother that he

  wasn’t wanted.

  "She was little more than a child when she got married.

  Seventeen, and my father was twenty-four. He

  loved her intensely. Too much. Her lover was a racing

  driver she met through a friend. So much more exciting

  than my father. She used to take me with her

  when she went to meet him. I had no idea then of the

  truth. I thought… He showed me his car and…"

  And you liked him, Jodie recognised compassionately.

  You liked him, and then you felt you had betrayed

  your father — just as your mother had done.

  "They ran away together in the end, and my mother

  died of blood poisoning in South America, where he

  was racing. My father never got over losing her, and

  I swore then that I would never…"

  "Trust another woman?" Jodie finished for him.

  "Let my emotions control me," Lorenzo corrected

  her.

  "Do we really have to stay married for a year?" she

  asked him. "After all, you’ve got the Castillo now,

  and Caterina has left…"

  "Our arrangement was that we would remain married

  for one year," he reminded her curtly. "To change

  that now would give rise to gossip and speculation,

  and although Caterina has left she could decide to

  challenge the will if she thought she might win such

  a case. I Don’t want that."

  "Twelve months seems such a long time."

  "No longer than it was when you agreed to remain

  with me for that period."

  But then she hadn’t known what she knew now,

  had she? Then she hadn’t known that she would be

  in danger of falling in love with him, that every extra

  day she had to spend close to him would increase her

  danger. But she could hardly tell him that.

  "What will happen with the Castillo now?" Jodie

  asked, knowing that there was nothing she could say

  to explain her reluctance to stay with him that would

  not give her away.

  "I am arranging for several experts to come out and

  inspect the paintings so that we can discuss how best

  to restore them, and I also intend to put in hand the

  necessary work to convert the Castillo into a centre

  for rehabilitation and artistic excellence. I have spoken

  already with several of Florence’s master guilders

  and other craftsmen— But none of this can be of

  much interest to you," he told her tersely.

  Jodie dipped her head so that he couldn’t see how

  much his careless words had hurt her. But of course

  he didn’t see her as a part of the future he was planning.

  Why should he?

  What was the matter with him? Lorenzo derided

  himself. Just because he felt a connection with Jodie

  that he had never experienced with anyone else, a

  closeness to her, it didn’t mean anything. And it certainly

  didn’t mean that he was falling in love with

  her. He could feel himself tensing, outwardly and inwardly,

  as though he were trying to lock out his

  thoughts and feelings — and not just lock them out,

  but squeeze the very life out of them as well.

  Because he was too afraid of them to allow them

  to exist? For centuries, out of ignorance and prejudice,

  man had sought to control what it feared by

  destroying it. Was he doing the same? If he was really

  so afraid of the effect Jodie was having on him, then

  why hadn’t he seized the chance she had offered to

  get rid of her? Because he wasn’t afraid at all. Why

  should he be? What was there to fear? Jodie meant

  nothing to him, and when the time came for them to

  go their separate ways he would be able to do so

  without a single qualm or regret.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THEIR flight from Florence by executive jet, followed

  by a helicopter pick-up from Heathrow to their hotel,

  had been accomplished with so much speed and in so

  much luxury that Jodie felt as though she were taking

  part in some kind of TV extravaganza rather than real

  life. They"d been escorted from the helicopter to their

  suite with a focused concentration on their comfort

  that had bemused her and made Lorenzo look even

  more saturnine and arrogant than ever.

  The stunningly beautiful seventeenth-century

  Cotswold stone hotel had originally been a private

  house. Now owned by a consortium of wealthy entrepreneurs,

  who had originally bought and remodelled

  it as an exclusive private members" country

  club, it catered for the wealthy and demanding. Its

  Michelin-starred restaurant was fabled and notoriously

  selective about its clientele, its spa was a favourite

  haunt of the A-list celebrity set, and it was

  the favourite venue for private events in that same

  set. A coterie of very wealthy clients were said to

  have set up a private gambling club there, in which

  fortunes were lost and made, and the world"s style

  critics had declared it the place they would most like

  to be.

  From the welcoming hallway, with its antiques and

  air of a country seat home, to the decor of their suite,

  complete with vases of exactly the same flowers she

  had had at their wedding and the latest Italian busi-

  ness magazines, everything breathed exclusivity and

  attention to detail.

  This truly was a different world, Jodie thought, as

  their personal butler assured her that her clothes

  would be unpacked and pressed within an hour.

  "I’ve arranged for us to have a hire car delivered

  here today, so that I can familiarise myself with the

  area ahead of the wedding," Lorenzo remarked.

  "John’s parents are holding an open house party

  tonight. The whole village is invited."

  "We shall be attending?"

&n
bsp; Did she really want to? Somehow the heat that had

  scorched her pride and driven her to long to be able

  to stand tall amongst those who knew her with a new

  man at her side had cooled to an indifference that

  made her wonder why she was here at all.

  John, Louise, and the pain they had caused her, had

  lost their power over her emotions. The life she had

  known and lived before she had met Lorenzo felt so

  distant from her now. Already she was making new

  friends in Florence; she was developing new interests,

  a wider outlook on life. She could not see herself

  coming back here at the end of her year of marriage

  to Lorenzo. But what would she do? Stay in Florence?

  No, that would be too painful.

  Painful? Why? But of course she already knew the

  answer to that question. She had suspected it the night

  he had told her about the history of Castillo’s hidden

  paintings. And she had known it the evening she had

  sat in the Castillo garden and listened to him telling

  her about his childhood, his feelings.

  "I’m not sure that this is a good idea any more,"

  she told Lorenzo uncomfortably.

  "Why not? Because You’re afraid of what you

  might learn about your own feelings?"

  "No! There isn’t anything to learn about them. I

  already know how I feel." How true that was!

  She still loved this blind fool of a man who had so

  stupidly chosen another woman over her, Lorenzo

  thought angrily.

  "You are afraid that when you see this ex-fiance.of

  yours you will be so overcome that you won’t be able

  to stop yourself from running to him and begging him

  to take you back?" he suggested grimly.

  "that’s ridiculous," Jodie objected. "Apart from

  anything else, I’m a married woman now."

  "And You’re na..ve enough to believe your wedding

  ring will prove an effective barrier to your emotions?"

  "It doesn’t have to. I Don’t have any emotions for

  John any more. He means nothing to me now. that’s

  why I Don’t want to go."

  Her voice rang with conviction, and Lorenzo felt

  his heart slam into his ribs, urging him to ask the

  question it so badly wanted answered. Ignoring it, he

  flicked back the sleeve of his jacket without allowing

  her to reply and told her curtly, "It’s almost lunchtime.

  I suggest we have something to eat, then we can collect

  the car and I can familiarise myself with this evening"s

  route."

  The Cotswolds lay drowsing under the warmth of the

  summer sunshine, its villages filled with coachloads

  of tourists. And, as she did every summer, Jodie wondered

  what those drovers who had once brought their

  sheep to market along these traditional roads would

  have thought if they could be transported to modern

  times.

  The small market town of Lower Uffington, where

  Jodie had grown up, was slightly off the normal tourist

  track, fortunately, and Jodie felt her stomach muscles

  start to clench with tension as she sat stiffly in

  the passenger seat of the hired Bentley. Lorenzo negotiated

  the narrow lanes as they dipped down between

  familiar grey stone walls and passed the sign

  that marked the boundary to the town.

  Up ahead of them lay the pretty town square, with

  its traditional wool merchants" houses lining its narrow

  streets, beyond which the road started to rise towards

  the Cotswold uplands where sheep still grazed,

  as they had done for so many centuries. Its wool market

  had made the town prosperous, and that prosperity

  was still evident in its buildings.

  Her own little cottage was hidden out of sight down

  a narrow lane, its garden tucking its feet into the small

  river that ran behind the main street. A pang of mingled

  pain and nostalgia gripped her, but it wasn’t so

  severe as she had dreaded. Anywhere could be home

  if it was shared with the person you loved, she realised.

  A small sign indicated the opening between two

  houses that led to the yard belonging to John’s father"s

  building business, and Jodie exhaled sharply as

  she saw John’s car parked at the side of the road close

  to it.

  "What is it?" Lorenzo demanded.

  "Nothing."

  And that was the truth. The sight of John’s car,

  which in the early days of their break-up would have

  filled her with aching pain and loss, now didn’t affect

  her at all — apart from a slight feeling of relief once

  they had driven past it, in case John himself should

  have appeared and seen her.

  At the end of the town, set in its own pretty green,

  was the church, small and squat, its stained glass windows

  picked out by the sunlight. Preparations were

  obviously already in hand for tomorrow"s wedding,

  Jodie recognised as she saw bunches of white flowers

  tied up with white ribbon and netting ornamenting the

  old-fashioned gate.

  John’s family, like her own, had been here for

  many generations. John’s parents were relatively well

  to do, and their converted farmhouse with its large

  garden was just outside the town.

  "Can we stop?" Jodie asked Lorenzo.

  "If you wish." He swung the car round into the

  small car park, and brought it to a halt.

  There was one thing she did want to do, Jodie acknowledged.

  One very personal visit she had to make.

  "there’s no need to come with me," she told

  Lorenzo as she reached to open the car door. "I shan’t

  be very long."

  "I may as well. I need to stretch my legs," Lorenzo

  answered her.

  She could see him frowning when she headed for

  the church. And his frown deepened when, instead of

  using the main gate, with its floral decorations, she

  chose to make a small detour and open a much

  smaller gate which led across the immaculate green

  and then behind the church to the graveyard.

  No one else seemed to be around, but even if there

  had been, and she had seen someone she knew, Jodie

  would not have allowed herself to be detained. She

  had known when she stood in the church in Florence,

  making her vows to Lorenzo, that this was something

  she wanted to do.

  She took the familiar narrow path that wove its way

  between large mossed grey tombstones, so ancient

  that their engraving had almost worn away, heading

  deeper into the graveyard until she came to the place

  she wanted.

  There, set into the mown grass beneath a canopy

  of soft leaves, was the small plaque that marked a

  shared grave.

  "My parents," she told Lorenzo simply.

  Tears blurred her eyes, and her hand shook slightly

  as she reached into her handbag and carefully withdrew

  the small box in which she had stored the petals

  from her wedding bouquet. Taking them out, she scattered

  them tenderly on her parents" grave.

  When she turned to
look at Lorenzo a huge lump

  formed in her throat. His head was bowed in prayer.

  "It’s silly, I know, but I wanted them to know…"

  She stopped and bit her lip.

  "Do you want to go inside the church?" Lorenzo

  asked.

  Jodie shook her head. "No. They’ll be getting it

  ready for the wedding and I Don’t want…"

  "You Don’t want what? To confront the friend who

  stole your fiance.? I thought that was why we are

  here?"

  "John’s an adult. No one forced him to break his

  engagement to me for Louise." Her head had begun

  to ache slightly. "Can we go back to the car?"

  Lorenzo shrugged. "If that is what you want."

  What she wanted was for Lorenzo to love her as

  she had discovered she loved him. What she wanted

  was to be back in Florence with him, living her life

  with him, creating a future with him.

  "I’m getting a headache," she told him instead.

  "It is probably anxiety. What exactly are you hoping

  for tonight, Jodie?"

  You. I’m hoping for you to look at me and love me.

  "I’m not hoping for anything."

  "No? You’re not hoping secretly that John will see

  you and recognise that it is you he wants after all?"

  "that’s not going to happen."

  "But you want it to?"

  "No."

  They were back at the car, and Jodie was so engrossed

  in rejecting Lorenzo’s suggestion that she

  didn’t notice the woman looking sharply at her until

  a familiar voice announced in surprise, "Jodie? Good

  heavens! I thought you were still away."

  Lucy Hartley — whose husband worked for John’s

  father!

  Somehow or other Jodie managed to produce the

  necessary smile. "It’s just a flying visit," she explained.

  "I wanted to show my…my husband—"

  "Your husband? You’re married?"

  To Jodie’s relief, Lorenzo stepped forward and extended

  his hand. Quickly Jodie performed the introductions,

  watching Lucy’s eyes widen as she did so.

  "You’ll be going to John’s parents" open house

  party this evening, will you?" she enquired.

  "We certainly hope to do so," Lorenzo answered

  smoothly, before Jodie could say anything. "If we

  won’t be encroaching. Jodie has told me so much

  about her home and her friends, and I’m looking forward

  to meeting them."

  "Oh, no. I’m sure that Sheila and Bill will be only

  too delighted." Lucy was beaming. "I’ll certainly tell