Australia's Most Eligible Bachelor / The Bridesmaid's Secret: Australia's Most Eligible Bachelor
formed me. But then they would have done their best to form Leila. Perhaps my father, whoever he may be, made some sort of a contribution?” she suggested with some irony. “There are many mysteries in life, aren’t there? A lot of them I would think unsolved.”
His expression had turned brooding. “I agree. It’s possible that whoever your father was he didn’t know Leila was pregnant.”
“So where did she get the money to run away? My grandparents didn’t have anything. She didn’t rob a bank. Someone gave it to her.”
“Someone who might have been appalled by the whole situation. It could be a real grief, Miranda. Anyway, we won’t talk about it any more. It’s your birthday.”
“Do you think Leila will remember?” she asked with a twist of bitterness.
“If she does she won’t flail herself.” His answer was full of contempt. “Promise me you’ll put Leila out of your mind. I’m planning a long festive weekend. Promise?”
She threw up her shining head. “I promise,” she said.
“Then drink up and we’ll go to bed.”
If only! If only! If only!
Chapter Three
THERE followed the most glorious day of her life. The word dazzling should be kept for the rarest occasions, Miranda thought. A private mini-bus was waiting at Marco Polo airport to take them to their water taxi, which again had to be private, because they had it all to themselves. What it is to be rich! Miranda mused, all but mesmerised by this whirl of luxury and dream trips to fabled locations. With her particular mind set, another thought inevitably struck her. One would need to be sprightly when visiting Venice, with all the getting in and out of water craft. She had to think of the elderly, and people with back and knee problems. Mercifully, at the grand old age of twenty-one, her body was wonderfully flexible.
In a haze of unbounded pleasure and excitement she moved ahead of Corin into the cabin, and from there into the sunshine at the rear of the vaporetto. There was so much to take in. So much to capture the imagination. The triumph of Venice, a city built on water! At times like this she would have given almost anything to be an artist. She could scarcely believe she, Miranda Thornton, raised by ordinary country folk, the people who had loved her the most, yet who had kept secret from her the fact she had been abandoned by her mother as an infant, was now entering upon the most glorious street in the world. A street that had been immortalised by some of history’s truly great artists. Canaletto immediately sprang to mind. And the great English painter J. M. W. Turner. She had adored Turner’s work on her gallery trips with Zara, who was very knowledgeable about art. Turner had really spoken to her. Then there was the American John Singer Sargent, who had painted many scenes of Venice. And why not?
The sheer grandeur was breathtaking: the splendid frontages of the magnificent palaces—Venetian Byzantine, Gothic, Renaissance—that lined either bank of the famous waterway with a hot sun beating down. She felt as though she was absorbing the palpable sense of history—of a city founded in the fifth century—through her pores, though it was near impossible to absorb the totality of the scene, so much splendour was on show.
The water was an indescribable blue-green. Not sparkling, like the waters of home, but with a kind of lustre like oil spreading out over the surface of the great canal, thus picking up marvellous reflections. She wondered what Venice would look like at night. And she was here! It made one have faith in miracles.
“Well?” asked Corin, studying her enchantingly pretty face. From the moment he had met her he had found her fascinating—not just her highly distinctive looks, but her manner, her speech, the sense of purpose that even at seventeen had emanated from her. He and Zara had visited Venice, a favourite city of their mother’s, many times before, but this time with Miranda, brand-new to the fabled Serenissima, he found his own pleasure expanding by the minute.
She turned to him eagerly with a spontaneous smile, turquoise eyes glittering. “It’s beyond—way beyond—my expectations. The extraordinary light!”
“The golden glow of Venice,” he said.
“The colour of the water is indescribable!”
“From a height it shimmers,” he told her. “Anyone familiar with our waters in Australia speaks about the dazzling blue sparkle, but the Grand Canal—indeed all the waters of Europe—have a different palette and a different character.” He studied her flawless white skin with the luminosity of alabaster. “Are you wearing sun block?”
She shook her head almost guiltily. “No.” She had meant to put some on. Not that she had needed it so far in London.
He tut-tutted. “And you a doctor in the making. It’s very hot, and it will get hotter as the day wears on. It’s a different heat from ours, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. Come back inside. Don’t worry. We’ll see everything. Take a gondola ride. The gondolas can reach the narrowest and most shallow canals. It’s the best way to get around. These days it costs an arm and a leg, but you learn the city from both sides of the canal. There’s a tremendous amount to see, but we have to make the best choices to fit in with our time. We might manage a visit to the island of Murano.”
“World-renowned for its glass-making. I do know that.” She had a girlfriend whose parents had brought her back a beautiful necklace and earrings set from Murano.
He nodded. “For centuries they were the only craftsmen in the whole of Europe who knew the secret of making mirrors. They held on to the technique for all that time.”
“I’m not surprised.” She laughed. “It would have brought in a great deal of money as well as prestige.”
“Exactly. There’s a very fine museum on the island called Palazzo Guistinian. Thousands of pieces cover the entire history of glassmaking from the ancient Egyptians to the present day.”
“Wasn’t there some Bond movie when they sent a cabinet toppling?” She frowned, trying to remember. Was it an older movie, with a marvellously handsome Roger Moore?
“Wouldn’t be a bit surprised,” he said wryly. “They sent a palazzo toppling into the Grand Canal for the first one featuring the new James Bond, Daniel Craig. If you like I can arrange a water taxi so we can go over on our own. Only a short trip.”
“That would be wonderful, Corin. But I must admit I’m a bit worried about how much money you must be spending.” A fortune already, in her reckoning.
“Don’t feel guilty. I’ve got it. One of the perks of being a Rylance.”
She watched him closely. He had only been standing in the sun a short time, but she could have sworn his golden tan had deepened. “It’s sad and strange, isn’t it, that you and Zara, brought up with such wealth, haven’t had a happy life?”
“And you all of twenty-one!” He gave her a smile.
“Okay, okay!” She drew in a quick breath. “But please let me tell you I’ll never forget this birthday if I live another eighty years.” It came out with enormous gratitude and a tiny quiver of sob.
Instantly, he enfolded her in a brief hug, as if she was his favourite cousin. “So why do you think I brought you?” he said.
Her suite overlooked a great breadth of the luminous waterscape, looking towards the island of San Giorgio. She could see its magnificent church, San Giorgio Maggiore with its Renaissance façade, gleaming white in the sun, and the imposing campanile—the bell tower. The bedroom’s décor was like no other she had ever seen. Sumptuous, seductive, otherworldly in its way, with antique furniture, fine art, fragrances on the air—and she thought a delicious touch of spookiness. But then she did have a great deal of imagination.
As she stood there, marvelling, Corin turned to face her for a moment, with amused and indulgent dark eyes. “I don’t like to drag you away, but I must. A quick lunch, then as much as we can comfortably fit