The Italian's Rightful Bride. Lucy Gordon

blouse. In her ears she wore solid gold earrings.

      She was dissatisfied with her hair, which she’d meant to trim back to shoulder-length, then forgotten. She had to settle for brushing it vigorously and hoping it wouldn’t look too tousled.

      Lily and Claire, who were sharing a room, joined her in the corridor. Lily especially was looking forward to the coming evening, as her low-cut dress proclaimed.

      ‘Just get him!’ she exclaimed. ‘Wow! Is he fit or what?’

      Joanna pretended to be shocked.

      ‘Are you talking about His Excellency, Prince Gustavo Montegiano?’ she asked. ‘Come, come! Where’s your respect for rank?’

      ‘He can pull rank on me any time he likes,’ Lily said, contriving to give the words a lascivious meaning. ‘Come on, now, you’ve got to admit he’s wow! Those eyes. Those muscles.’

      ‘Don’t you ever think about anything but men?’ Sally asked, appearing with Hal, and falling into step beside them as they descended the stairs.

      ‘Yes, but I spend too much time with the ones who’ve been dead for centuries,’ Lily pointed out. ‘Living fellers tend to look very good after that.’

      ‘I’m living,’ Hal said. Where Lily was concerned he existed in a permanent state of hope.

      ‘Down, Fido!’ Lily said.

      ‘What happened to his wife?’ Sally asked.

      ‘They’re divorced,’ Joanna explained, keeping her voice low. ‘But please don’t talk about that.’

      ‘Discretion is my middle name,’ Lily said untruthfully. ‘But honestly, was she crazy? Can you imagine any woman having that, and not clinging on for dear life?’

      ‘Can we talk about something else?’ Joanna asked tensely.

      ‘Perhaps he’s not as gorgeous as he looks,’ Claire put in.

      ‘And perhaps pigs fly,’ Lily scoffed.

      ‘No, I mean as a person,’ Claire said. ‘He might have a nasty temper—’

      ‘He’d still be as sexy as hell!’ Lily pointed out.

      ‘Will you two hush?’ Joanna said frantically. ‘Not another word, in my hearing or out of it. Honestly, I can’t take you anywhere.’

      She remembered the dining room well. In this grandiose room she and Gustavo had been toasted on the night of their engagement. Now it had a livelier air.

      It was a good evening with plenty of laughter. Carlo was there, also the children, with Laura. They had spent the last couple of hours riding. Renata was already skilled and Billy was learning.

      ‘So that’s where you were,’ Gustavo said to Renata. ‘I looked for you.’

      Joanna watched the little girl, remembering the harsh things that, according to Billy, she had said about her father. Surely they could not be true?

      Renata maintained a cool demeanour towards Gustavo, but when he wasn’t looking at her she would fix her eyes on him with something that might have been longing. If he glanced back at her, she hurriedly turned away.

      Gustavo wanted to hear all about the dig.

      ‘I suppose it’s too soon to have discovered anything significant,’ he said.

      ‘Much too soon,’ Joanna said. ‘We’re still in what Hal calls the “getting-dirty-with-nothing-to-show-for-it” stage.’

      In this way she tossed the ball to Hal, who, being naturally talkative, seized it. He then monopolised the conversation, although once he did say, ‘You should really talk to the chief. She’s a terrible slave-driver. We’re all scared of her.’

      Everyone laughed and Joanna said, ‘So I should hope.’

      She stayed mostly quiet, letting the others talk. Sometimes Gustavo darted a curious glance at her, but he seldom spoke to her, although she was sitting at right angles to him, at the head of the table.

      After the meal Laura announced that it was time for the children to go to bed. Billy and Renata said their goodbyes politely. Renata allowed her father to kiss her cheek but she didn’t kiss him back. Nor did he try to make her. He simply stood still while she left the room without a backward glance at him.

      The sight of this big, impressive man seemingly beaten into submission by a child’s hostility made something catch at Joanna’s throat. She turned away, feeling as though she was invading his privacy.

      Suddenly the evening had lost its savour for her, and, as though she had X-ray vision, she divined that it was the same with him. He talked and smiled, but a snub from a little girl had quenched a light inside him.

      He did his duty to the last minute, escorting them up the stairs and saying goodnight as though he had all the time in the world. But she knew that secretly he was longing to escape, and her heart ached for him when first one person, then another had ‘just one more thing’ to say.

      But at last it was all over, everyone had gone to their rooms and the corridor was quiet. Joanna noticed a faint beam of light coming from under Billy’s door, and went in.

      ‘You should be asleep, not reading,’ she said.

      ‘Honestly, Mum, how can anyone sleep with that racket going on outside?’ he said, sounding aggrieved. ‘Why do people always say goodnight at the tops of their voices?’

      ‘All right,’ she said, recognising some justice in this, without actually being fooled by it. ‘They’ve all gone now, so put the book away.’

      ‘OK, Mum.’

      They hugged each other and she slipped out into the long, wide corridor. The lights had been turned low and it was a moment before she realised that she wasn’t alone. Gustavo stood a few yards away, his hand resting on the handle of Renata’s door.

      It was on the far side, and a slight bend in the corridor meant that she could plainly make him out, even in the gloom. She saw him try the handle, then again, until he was forced to accept that the door was locked.

      For a long moment he stood there. Then he spoke and Joanna thought he said, ‘Please, my darling.’