Claire, and even to her own hypercritical ear, she could have been listening to herself. Both of them had husky voices, with a distinctive little catch that Guy Warren, in a fit of frustrated rage, had once termed misleading because it was so sexy.
Harriet waited a minute longer, then thrust open the door, and before she could change her mind, said, ‘All right, Rosa, I’ll do it. I’m probably mad, and I’m sure to regret it, but as Mother said, it’s an adventure. As long as your grandmother isn’t harmed in any way by the switch, I’ll pretend to be her loving granddaughter for a day or two. But this is a one-off, Rosa. Afterward you’ll just have to tell her about the baby.’
CHAPTER TWO
HARRIET’S TENSION INCREASED as the purring Maserati turned off on a narrow road which wound up a hill in dizzying curves. Leonardo Fortinari drove his petrified passenger through an entrance flanked by stone pillars into the steep, tiered gardens of the Villa Castiglione, and stopped at the foot of well-worn steps leading to a balustraded terrace adorned with small, time-worn statues and stone urns spilling flowers. After a glance at her taut face he touched a hand fleetingly to her denim-clad knee.
‘Courage, Rosa.’
To her secret consternation his touch seared through the denim like a brand. Harriet sat very still to disguise her reaction, her eyes fixed on the two-story building. The house was as familiar from a photograph as Leo Fortinari, but unlike the man beside her it was smaller than expected, old and very beautiful, built of venerable gold stone, with an arcaded loggia on three sides.
‘Before we go in,’ said Leo curtly, ‘do nothing this time, Rosa, to upset Nonna in any way. She is valiant, as always, but she has not been in good health lately. She was insistent you came back to see her again because she believes her time is short. Do nothing to shorten it. Understood?’
Annoyed by his dictatorial tone Harriet gave him a disdainful look. ‘Nothing’s changed, then. You still believe the worst of me.’ This was Rosa’s firm belief, and so far Leo Fortinari was doing nothing to contradict it.
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘Do you blame me?’
Harriet said nothing. If in doubt, say nothing and look mysterious, had been Rosa’s instructions. Sensible ones, probably. If anything about this entire situation could be described as remotely sensible. Harriet got out of the car before Leo could touch her again in assistance, slung the strap of Rosa’s expensive leather bag over her shoulder and followed him inside.
A small, beaming woman came bustling towards them across the cool, marble-floored hall, greeting Leo in a flood of whispered Italian in a strong local accent Harriet had to concentrate hard to understand.
‘Welcome, Miss Rosa,’ she added in an undertone. ‘You must be tired. I shall bring coffee before I take you to your room. The signora is sleeping. You will see her later.’
‘You remember Silvia, of course,’ said Leo, as the woman went off.
‘No. She’s new since I was last here.’
And thank heaven for that, thought Harriet, as he ushered her into a room Rosa had described in such painstaking detail that the abundance of pictures, gilt-framed mirrors and carved furniture was reassuringly familiar. Making no attempt to hide her nerves, she sat down on a sofa upholstered in faded ruby velvet, desperate to get the meeting with the signora over with. Though if Leo hadn’t spotted the switch, she comforted herself, perhaps no one else would, either. Like Rosa, she had no telltale distinguishing marks. And to make Harriet word-perfect in her role, Rosa had brought dozens of photographs and letters to the Foster house, recounting every detail of her family she could think of as Harriet took reams of notes which she read over and over in bed every night until she knew them by heart.
‘How quiet you are,’ said Leo, giving her a leisurely scrutiny as he pulled up a chair. ‘You have changed with maturity, Rosa. You are thinner, also your hair curls.’
‘Clever hairdresser,’ she said, unruffled, prepared for this. ‘Do you approve?’
Leo’s jaw tightened. ‘You know very well that you are beautiful, Rosa.’
Harriet’s eyes fell before his cold, assessing gaze, then she looked up with a smile, thanking Silvia as the woman came in to set down a large tray with coffee and tiny sweet biscuits, before rushing off to rejoin the women preparing tomorrow’s feast in the kitchen.
‘I had forgotten that faint, charming accent, Rosa,’ he said, watching her as she poured.
Rosa had told Harriet Leo liked his coffee black, but she looked him in the eye and offered him cream. ‘Since I was banished I haven’t needed Italian much. Though it comes in useful in my job.’ Which, was entirely true.
‘So you have forgotten I like my coffee black and sweet,’ commented Leo. A black eyebrow arched. ‘What else have you forgotten, Rosa?’
‘As much as I possibly could,’ she said tartly. ‘Will you have a biscuit?’
Leo shook his head, and leaned back, watching her through the steam from his cup. ‘So. How do you like working at the Hermitage?’
‘More than I expected to when I started,’ said Harriet, quoting Rosa.
His eyes held hers relentlessly. ‘You had different ambitions once.’
‘Modelling, you mean.’ Harriet shrugged. ‘Just teenage daydreams. I’ve recovered from those. Every last one of them,’ she added deliberately.
‘Have you, indeed?’ The black-lashed eyes narrowed. ‘You were beautiful enough for modelling. Even more so now time has wrought certain changes,’ he added, eyeing her up and down with a look which seemed to register everything from the exact shade of her lipstick to the size of her shoes.
Harriet turned away to refill her coffee cup, wishing Leo Fortinari would remove his disturbing presence and take himself off to his famous vineyards, which she had learned were several kilometres away from the Villa Castiglione.
‘How are Mirella and Dante?’ she asked politely.
‘Dante is my right hand since my father’s retirement. Mirella, as you know, is married now. She is already expecting her first child.’ Leo leaned forward to replace his cup on the tray. ‘So is Tony’s wife, I hear.’
Harriet nodded. ‘Any moment now, which is why they couldn’t come for Nonna’s birthday.’
‘I hope everything goes well for her. Mirella, thankfully, is in the best of health.’ His eyes narrowed to a taunting gleam. ‘You did not come to her wedding.’
He was baiting her, thought Harriet angrily. ‘For obvious reasons,’ she retorted, staring him down.
‘You mean you were afraid to come?’
She shrugged. ‘If you like.’
‘Would you have come if Nonna had invited you personally before this?’ he asked, leaning nearer. ‘Or were you afraid of meeting old friends?’
‘Stop bullying the child,’ said a voice from the doorway.
Leo rose to his feet, and Harriet followed suit quickly, her heart in her throat. The woman advancing
