surprise.
‘Are you saying that Ben was supporting you?’ Elise asked. ‘I don’t believe it. I’ve been through his financial affairs and there’s nothing about you or a child.’
‘There wouldn’t be. We broke up before Jerry’s birth. He—he didn’t want to hurt you.’
If Elise had believed her before, she didn’t now. Ben had never cared about hurting her.
‘I married someone else,’ Mary went on. ‘But now we’ve split up.’
‘What’s his name?’ Signor Farnese asked suddenly.
‘Alaric Connish-Fontain,’ Mary said, puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘It’s an unusual name. I recognised it at once. Your husband’s crash into bankruptcy was really spectacular. No wonder you’re looking for new fish to fry.’
‘How dare you?’ Mary snapped.
‘Forgive me. Your motives are, of course, as pure as the driven snow.’
‘How did he feel about Ben’s son?’ Elise intervened.
Mary shrugged. ‘He thought Jerry was his.’
‘But when he lost all his money Jerry suddenly became Ben’s,’ Elise said scornfully. ‘Don’t take me for a fool.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ agreed Signor Farnese.
‘You can say what you like,’ Mary snapped. ‘I want what’s right for my son. He should be Ben’s heir and I’m going to see that he is. You’ve got a posh house, so sell it, and I want half. What are you smiling for?’
The last words came out as a scream, for Elise had started to laugh. She shook with mirth until she felt she might choke, while her enemy regarded her in frustration.
‘I’m telling you, sell your house,’ she repeated furiously.
‘There is no house,’ Elise said, calming herself. ‘That’s why I’m living in a hotel. Ben already sold our house. It was his way of forcing me to go to Italy with him.’
‘Then you’ve got the money. I know all about property laws—’
‘Somehow that comes as no surprise,’ the dark Italian murmured. ‘If there’s one woman I feel I could rely on to know about property laws, it’s you.’
‘So I’ve protected myself, so what? Husband and wife own the marital home jointly—’
‘True,’ Elise agreed. ‘That’s why Ben went about it in a twisty way. First he took out a huge mortgage on our London home, forging my signature when necessary. Then he bought a place in Italy. By the time I found out, it was too late. The money was already out of this country.’
‘Don’t give me that,’ Mary sneered. ‘You married Ben for his money and you’ve had eight years to put aside a nest egg for yourself.’
Sick loathing rose in Elise and for a blinding moment she nearly blurted out the truth—that she’d cared nothing for Ben’s money, had married him only to head off a threat to her beloved father, who could have gone to gaol with the evidence in Ben’s possession.
But she forced herself to stay silent. The years of her dreadful marriage had taught her self-control.
‘There’s no nest egg,’ she said. ‘You can believe that or not, as you like.’
‘And yet you’ve got enough to live here.’ Mary’s gesture took in their luxurious surroundings.
‘No, I haven’t. I’m moving out to somewhere cheaper as soon as possible.’
‘Wherever you go, I’ll be on your tail.’
A change came over Vincente Farnese. Mary couldn’t see his face clearly but Elise could, and she thought it was like seeing someone become possessed by the devil. Whatever idea had flashed across his brain made his eyes glint and a wicked smile touch his mouth.
A devil, but a humorous devil, she thought.
‘I shouldn’t do that if I were you,’ he advised, facing Mary full on. ‘She has a heart of stone and a brain of ice. She’ll outwit you every time.’
‘You make her sound like a cold-hearted bitch,’ Mary sneered. ‘I guess you know her really well.’
‘You’re right. I’ve learned exactly how ruthless she can be.’
Bemused, Elise regarded him.
A knowing look came into Mary’s eyes. She’d misunderstood, as he’d meant her to.
‘Got her claws into you too, has she?’ she demanded coarsely. ‘I know all about her. Ben told me how she chased him for his money, then did the dirty on him when they were married.’
‘That’s a lie!’ Elise burst out. ‘I never chased Ben. He came chasing after me, all the way to Rome—’
‘Just as you meant him to. You knew how to make him come grovelling. As for you—’ she pointed a finger at Vincente ‘—I’ll bet your wife doesn’t know you’re here.’
‘I have no wife,’ he retorted. ‘I’ve never been tempted into the married state and at times like this I’m deeply glad of it. Tell me, ladies, is there a woman in the world who sincerely regrets the man she’s put behind her—for one reason or another?’
Mary gave a contemptuous snort. ‘Had your fill of you, has she? And now she doesn’t care who she hurts. I don’t suppose she ever has.’
‘That’s true,’ he said softly. ‘You don’t know how true that is.’
‘So what are you doing here now? Think there’s something here for you? Haven’t you learned your lesson?’
Vincente shrugged and spoke with a sigh that Elise guessed was as false as his regretful manner. She had to hand it to him for a magnificent if dishonest performance.
‘There are some women who can affect a man like that,’ he mourned. ‘So that he forgets everything he knows about her and still lives in hope.’
‘But I’m not a man,’ Mary snapped. ‘I’m not giving up until I get what’s right.’
‘But this isn’t the way,’ he said smoothly. ‘Arm yourself with a DNA test and Mrs Carlton won’t be able to argue.’
‘Ah, but he’s dead,’ Mary said quickly. ‘It’s too late for a test.’
‘The hospital where he died will have blood samples,’ Elise pointed out. ‘They can be tested and then we’ll know for certain.’
Strangely, this prospect did not seem to ease Mary’s mind.
‘You don’t need a test,’ she said edgily. ‘Jerry’s Ben’s son, no doubt of it. We can sort something out between us, then I’ll go—’
‘You’ll go now if you know what’s good for you,’ Elise snapped.
‘I wasn’t born yesterday. If you’re still here in ten seconds—’
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing,’ Elise flung at her in cold fury. She was possessed by the joy and satisfaction of losing her temper. It was glorious.
‘You’ll be hearing from my lawyer—’
‘Get out!’
Whether it was something she saw in Elise’s face, or whether it was Vincente urging her towards the door, Mary suddenly couldn’t get out fast enough.
‘I’ll be back,’ she threatened. ‘You may think you’ve got away with it—’
‘But she won’t,’ Vincente assured her. ‘There’s