signorina.’
‘Good-bye.’ Emma walked resolutely across to the elevator, but she felt supremely conscious that his eyes followed her, and felt a leap of something like excitement inside her at the possible prospect of seeing him again.
It was not until she gained the sanctity of her own room that she remembered her earlier decision to tell Celeste that evening that she was leaving in the morning. Emma faltered, and walked across to her dressing table mirror, drawn by a desire to see her reflection, to study it appraisingly, and just how stupidly she was behaving. What would a man like that want with an idiot teenager like herself? If she had been madly beautiful like Celeste, there might have been some reason for her to feel this mad surge of happiness, but she had nothing in particular to commend her. Her hair was blonde, it was true, but it was disappointingly straight and at the moment hung over her shoulders in silky strands; her complexion was fair, but would soon tan in the hot sun; and her eyes which she had always considered her best feature, large and wide-spaced and most definitely green, had lashes which were nowhere near as long as that man’s. And finally she came to the pink gown; it really did do nothing for her whatsoever, and she decided that whatever happened, first thing in the morning she would visit one of those small markets, that abounded in the tiny alleyways among the canals, and buy some material and cottons and run herself up a couple of dresses in colours which she knew suited her. A vivid red, perhaps, and that gorgeous shade of kingfisher blue.
But first of all there was Celeste, and somehow now the desire to escape from Venice at the first opportunity seemed to have lost its appeal.
CELESTE did not come up to the suite until well into the early hours of the morning, and when she did she was humming softly and smugly to herself as though well pleased with the evening’s happenings. Emma had sat up reading until midnight, and then she had gone to bed to lie awake wondering what on earth Celeste was doing. Surely the Contessa did not keep these hours at her age.
Emma slid out of bed, and wrapped a quilted dressing-gown about her slim body. Then she quietly opened the door of her bedroom and entered the lounge of the suite. Celeste had just lit a cigarette, and was standing smoking, a lazy smile on her face.
She started, almost guiltily Emma thought, at her stepdaughter’s appearance, and said:
‘Emma! What in heaven’s name are you doing, creeping around at this hour of the morning?’
Emma shrugged her shoulders, and advanced into the room. ‘I … I couldn’t sleep,’ she said casually. ‘Celeste, I’m thinking of going home tomorrow … or I mean today, actually.’
Celeste’s expression altered considerably. ‘Home? You mean to England?’
‘Yes.’ Emma hugged herself nervously. ‘I … I don’t know what lies you’ve been telling about our relationship, but I’m certainly not prepared to deceive that sweet old lady by any more of it …’
Celeste stared incredulously at her, and then she laughed scornfully. ‘That sweet old lady, as you called her, happens to care more about money than my deficiencies,’ she snapped. ‘Has it dawned on your naïve intelligence that the reason I’m here is to grab myself a title, and in the subsequent process restore the Cesare family fortunes?’
Emma flushed. ‘I’ve been working it out,’ she admitted slowly. ‘But it can’t be as simple as that, Celeste, or you wouldn’t have bothered to bring me along, would you?’
Celeste smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. ‘To a degree you have a point. The Contessa is money-conscious, I admit, but like all Italians, the family means a lot to her, and if I had arrived here without my dear stepdaughter, I venture to suppose she would be curious as to the reasons.’
‘You could have told the truth: that I have a job in London.’
‘Oh, no, darling. Perhaps with your small-minded approach to life it hasn’t occurred to you to wonder exactly how much Clifford left me, but I can assure you the Contessa knows my bank balance down to the last farthing, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘What has that to do with it?’ asked Emma wearily. ‘Lots of girls whose parents have money work for a living, why shouldn’t I!’
Celeste shrugged. ‘You just might,’ she murmured reflectively, ‘but with several million dollars in cash and securities, I think it’s unlikely, to say the least.’
‘Several million dollars!’ Emma was incredulous.
‘Of course. You didn’t imagine I married Clifford and put up with his pawing for peanuts, did you?’
Emma was nauseated. ‘Celeste,’ she said, almost inaudibly.
‘So? Emma, be sensible! What possible harm can there be in allowing an old lady to imagine that you and I are on the best of terms, just to satisfy her … how shall I put it … proprieties?’
Hearing it put like that Emma was temporarily bereft of reasons. If it was true that the Contessa was only interested in Celeste for her money, wasn’t it reasonable that Celeste should have the chance to acquire her title, if that was what was so important to her? After all, Celeste was the type of person to get what she wanted despite any opposition.
Emma shook her head. ‘The whole situation is disgusting. If this is what money brings you, I’m glad I don’t have any.’
‘Why, darling? Wouldn’t you like to be a Contessa?’
‘Not particularly. I’d rather marry a man I loved than some middle-aged playboy who has gambled away all his own fortune and now wants to start on someone else’s.’
Celeste laughed. ‘Oh, Emma, you couldn’t be more wrong as far as the Count Vidal Cesare is concerned. He’s far from middle-aged, and he’s very attractive. Not that that mattered, as you will have gathered, but it’s nice to know the father of my children won’t need aphrodisiacs to stimulate his natural desires.’
Emma turned away. ‘Celeste!’ she exclaimed, ‘that’s a horrible thing to say.’
‘You’re far too sensitive, darling,’ retorted Celeste carelessly. ‘If you stay long with me you’ll soon shed that sensitive skin of yours and toughen up a bit. Grow up, darling, surely you’re well aware that the reason the Contessa wants me and not some older and possibly richer woman is because I can produce the heir that she so ardently desires for her grandson. See?’
Emma shrugged. ‘Well, that settles it. I’d rather stay on the outside, if you don’t mind. I’ll go back home, and you get on with your life without me. You’ve managed very well so far; don’t think you’ll need to feel any further responsibility for me. Like you, I can survive in my own sphere.’
Celeste’s voice was suddenly hard. ‘You’re staying.’
‘I think not.’ Emma was firm.
‘Then think again, Emma. The Contessa has taken a liking to you and I have no intention of allowing you to return to England leaving me with a host of unexplainable details to contend with. No, darling, you’re staying, and if you intend making any speeches, don’t! You may not believe this right now, but I could make life pretty unpleasant
