think I’m a fool for telling you what you don’t want to know?’
‘Not you,’ he snapped. ‘Me! To be taken in by that woman and her cheap tricks—I must be the biggest fool in creation.’
Her anger faded. His self-blame took her by surprise.
His back was still turned to her, but the angle of the window caught his face. It was only a faint reflection, but she managed to see that he had closed his eyes.
He was more easily hurt than she’d suspected. And his way of coping was to retreat deep inside himself.
But perhaps a little sympathy could still reach him. Gently she touched his arm.
‘I know this is hard for you,’ she began.
‘Nothing I can’t cope with,’ he said firmly, drawing away from her. ‘It’s time I was going. You know where I’m staying?’
‘Yes.’ She named the hotel.
‘Send my bill there and I’ll go as soon as it’s paid. Sorry to have troubled you.’
He gave her a brief nod and departed, leaving her feeling snubbed. One brief expression of sympathy had been enough to make him flee her. But then, she reflected, he hadn’t become a successful businessman by allowing people to get close. For his wife he’d made an exception, and it had been a shattering mistake.
Ellie got back to work, setting out his bill then working out a response to the lawyer’s letter. It took her a few minutes to write a conventional reply, but when she read it through she couldn’t be satisfied. Something told her that Signor Fellani would dislike the restrained wording.
Yet is there any way to phrase this that wouldn’t annoy him? she wondered. He seems to spend his whole life on the verge of a furious temper. Still, I suppose I can hardly blame him now.
She rephrased the letter and considered it critically.
I should have done this while he was here, she mused. Then I could have got his agreement to it. Perhaps I’d better go and see him now, and get this settled.
She went to find Rita.
‘I have to leave. I need to talk to Signor Fellani again. My goodness! Look at the weather.’
‘Snowing fit to bust,’ Rita agreed, glancing out of the window. ‘I don’t envy you driving in that.’
‘Nor do I. But it has to be done.’
She hurried outside to where her car was parked, and turned onto the route that led to the hotel. It was about a mile away, and the last hundred yards took her along the River Thames. Driving slowly because of the snow, she glanced at the pavement, and tensed at what she saw.
He was there by the wall, staring out over the river. A pause in the traffic gave her time to study him as he stood, wrapped in some private world, oblivious to his surroundings, unaware of the snow engulfing him.
She found a space to park, then hurried across the road to Leonizio.
‘Signore!’ she called. ‘I was on my way to your hotel. It’s lucky I happened to notice you here.’
He regarded her, and she had a strange sensation that he didn’t recognise her through the snow.
‘It’s me,’ she said. ‘Your lawyer. We have business to discuss. My car’s waiting over there.’
‘Then we’d better go before you catch your death of cold.’
‘Or you catch yours,’ she retorted. ‘You’re soaking.’
‘Don’t bother about me. Let’s go.’
She led him across the road to where two cars were parked, one shabby, one new and clearly expensive. He headed for the shabby one.
‘Not that one,’ Ellie called, opening the door of the luxury vehicle. ‘Over here.’
‘This?’ he demanded in disbelief. ‘This is yours?’
Obviously he felt that the decrepit little wreck was more her style, she thought, trying not to be offended.
‘I like to own a nice car,’ she said coolly. ‘Get in.’
He did so, and sat in silence while she took the wheel and drove to the hotel. As she pulled into the car park he said, ‘You’re shivering. You got wet.’
‘I’ll be all right when I get home. But first I must come in and show you the letter I wrote to your wife’s lawyer.’
The Handrin Hotel was famed for its luxury, and as she entered it she could understand why. The man who could afford to stay here was hugely successful.
They took the elevator up to his opulent suite on the top floor. Now she could see him more clearly and was even more dismayed by his condition.
‘I’m not the only one who’s wet,’ she said. ‘You were standing too long in that snow. Your hair’s soaking. Better dry it at once, and change your clothes.’
‘Giving me orders?’ he asked wryly.
‘Protecting your interests, which is what I’m employed to do. Now get going.’
He vanished, reappearing ten minutes later in dry clothes. He handed her a towel and with relief she undid her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders so that she could dry it. When he joined her on the sofa she handed him the bill, and the letter she planned to write to his wife’s lawyer.
‘I suppose I’ll have to agree to it,’ he said at last. ‘It doesn’t say what I really think, but it might be better not to say that too frankly.’
‘You’d really like to commit murder, wouldn’t you?’ she said.
He regarded her with wry appreciation.
‘A woman who understands me. You’re perfectly right, but don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid. You won’t have to defend me in court.’
His grin contained a rare glimpse of real humour which she gladly returned, enjoying the sensation of suddenly connecting with him in both thoughts and feelings.
‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I’d be up to that task.’
‘Oh, I think you’d be up to anything you set your mind to. Can I offer you a drink?’
Ellie knew she should refuse; she should get this meeting over and done with as quickly as possible. But she still had to get his agreement to send the letter. And she was freezing. A hot drink would be very welcome.
‘I’d love a cup of tea, please.’
He called Room Service and placed an order. While they waited she watched while he read through the papers again.
‘How do you feel about the answer I planned to send to your wife’s lawyer?’ she said.
‘It’s a damned sight too polite. But you haven’t sent it yet?’
‘No. I thought we should talk first.’
‘And what are you going to advise me to do?’
‘Go ahead with the divorce as quickly as possible.’
‘So that she can marry the father and make the child legitimate? Her lawyer said that in his letter, didn’t he? And he told you to persuade me to ‘see sense’.
‘I wish he hadn’t said that—’
‘But that’s how lawyers think,’ he said bitterly. ‘Let my treacherous wife have her way, no matter what it does to me. That’s seeing sense, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t be unfair. I don’t see everything like that.’
‘I think you do. After all, you’re a lawyer.’
‘Yours, not hers.