‘My mother’s a very clever woman. She knew better than to make a fuss. When she caught me sidling in she glanced up and said, “Oh, there you are. Don’t make a noise, your father’s asleep.” We had a talk later but there were no hysterics. By then she was used to me doing stupid things.’
‘But would getting married be the path to freedom? Husbands can be very restrictive.’
She chuckled. ‘I didn’t think of that at the time. I just pictured him doing things my way. Luckily I saw the truth before too late.’
‘Yes, husbands have this maddening habit of wanting their own way.’
‘Oh, I learnt the lesson.’
‘So you still don’t have a husband?’
‘No husband, no nothing.’ She added casually, ‘These days it’s the way to be.’
‘You’re a true woman of your age. At one time an unmarried girl would wonder why no man wanted her. Now she wonders what’s the best way to keep them off.’
‘Right,’ she responded in the same teasing voice. ‘Sometimes you have to be really ingenious. And sometimes just ruthless.’
‘You talk like an expert. Or like a woman who’s been kicked in the teeth and is going to do some kicking back.’ He saw her wry face and said quickly, ‘I’m sorry, I had no right to say that. None of my business.’
‘It’s all right. If we all minded our own business there’d be precious little of interest to talk about.’
‘I’ve got a feeling I should be nervous about what you’re going to say next.’
‘I could ask about Sicily, couldn’t I? Is that where you keep a secret wife, or perhaps two secret wives? Now that would really be interesting.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you but there’s no wife, secret or otherwise. I was born in Sicily, but I left it years ago, and I’ve never been back. The life just didn’t suit me. Like you, I went exploring the world, and I ended up with a family who owned vineyards. Vines, wine-making, I loved it from the start. They were wonderful to me, practically adopted me, and finally left the vineyards to me.’
And he’d turned them into a top money-making business, she thought. That was clear from the way he dressed and the way others reacted to him.
They were reaching the end of the street. As they turned the corner Charlotte stopped, astonished and thrilled by the sight that met her eyes.
‘The Trevi Fountain,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve always wanted to see it. It’s so huge, so magnificent….’
This was no mere fountain. A highly decorated palace wall rose behind it, at the centre of which was a triumphal arch, framing the magnificent, half-naked figure of Oceanus, mythical god of water, ruling over the showers that cascaded into the pool below. Everywhere was flooded with light, giving the water a dazzling glitter against the night.
‘I’ve read about it,’ she murmured, ‘and seen pictures, but—’
‘But nothing prepares you,’ he agreed. ‘Some things have to be experienced before they become real.’
Nearby was a café with tables out on the street. Here they could sit and watch the humming life about them.
‘Nice to see people having a good time,’ she murmured.
‘Does that mean your life is unhappy now?’
‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. ‘But it does tend to be a bit too serious. Legal documents, history books. Not exactly filled with fun. And sometimes you need to remind yourself about fun.’
He regarded her curiously, thinking that a woman with her looks could have all the fun she wanted with all the men she wanted. So there was a mystery here. But he was too astute to voice the thought.
‘But Italy should remind you of fun,’ he said. ‘It’s not all cathedrals and sober history.’
‘I know. You’ve only got to stroll the streets of Rome in the twilight, and see—well, lots of things.’
His grin and the way he nodded spoke volumes about his own life. Doubtless it was full of ‘twilight activities’, she thought. And they would be fun. She didn’t doubt that either.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘my favourite Italian was—’
She named a historical character with a legendary reputation for wickedness.
‘He wasn’t as bad as people think,’ Lucio observed. ‘He was actually quite a serious man who—’
‘Don’t say that,’ she interrupted him quickly. ‘You’ll spoil him for me. If he’s not wicked he’s not interesting.’
He regarded her curiously. ‘There aren’t many people who’d see it that way.’
‘But it’s true.’
‘Certainly it’s true, but we’re not supposed to say so.’
‘Well, I’m always doing things I’m not supposed to. That’s why I’m the black sheep of the family.’
‘Because you eloped at seventeen?’
She chuckled. ‘There were a few more things than that. There was the politician who came to hold a meeting in New York, all virtue and pomposity, except that he’d spent the previous night in a place where he shouldn’t have been. I’d seen him leaving and I couldn’t resist getting up at the meeting and asking him about it.’
‘Shame on you!’ he said theatrically.
‘Yes, I have no sense of propriety, so I’m told.’
‘So you’re wicked and interesting, eh?’
‘Certainly wicked. You know, everyone has their own talents. My sister Ellie is a talented dancer, my sister Alex is a talented vet—’
‘And you’re a talented linguist.’
‘Oh, that! That’s just earning a living. No, my real talent, the thing at which I’m practically a genius, is getting my own way.’
‘Now you really interest me.’
‘It can always be done, if you know how to go about it.’
‘Cunning?’
‘Certainly. Cunning, devious, manipulative, wicked—whatever it takes.’
‘Is that the real reason you broke off your career to go travelling?’
‘In one sense. I wanted to find another world, and I’m finding it. That’s the way to live. Know what you want, and don’t stop until you get it.’ She raised her glass to him. ‘I guess there’s probably a lot of interesting wickedness in your own life.’
He assumed a shocked air.
‘Me? No time for it. I’m far too busy earning a respectable living, I assure you.’
‘Right. I’ll believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.’
He grinned. ‘You do me an injustice.’
‘No, I don’t. Any man who proclaims himself respectable needs to be treated with suspicion.’
‘I protest—’
‘Don’t bother because I won’t believe a word you say.’
They plunged into a light-hearted argument with much vigour on both sides, but also much laughter. When she looked at her watch she was amazed to see how much time had passed. She had a strange sense of being mentally at one with him. Almost like a brother.
But the next moment he turned his head so that she saw his profile against the glittering light from the fountain. Not brotherly, she thought. Disconcertingly attractive in a way that