dead, she was a saint.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I regret that she did not welcome you to our home with warmth.’
That was an understatement for the permafrost which had chilled Alicia to the bone. She shrugged. ‘But she was right when she told me I was an unsuitable bride for her son.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Mamma said this to you?’
‘I’m sure she said it to you, too.’
‘Davverro, but I made it plain to her that you were the only bride I wanted.’
She raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘A pity you didn’t make it plainer to me. Once I arrived in Montedaluca, I began to doubt it more with every passing day. Most people in the castello took their cue from the contessa and made me feel like an outsider. Which I was, of course. Apart from your great-aunt Luisa, and the lady you hired to teach me Italian, hardly anyone spoke to me for the six weeks I lived there—including you. You were so busy during the run-up to the wedding you had no time for me. You turned into a stranger.’ Alicia smiled coldly. ‘Which you were, of course. Until then, I didn’t even know you had a title.’
He shrugged dismissively. ‘Such things mean little now.’
‘It meant a great deal to your mother. The only time she deigned to spend with me was filled with instructions on how a future Contessa da Luca must behave.’ Alicia smiled sardonically. ‘She must have been utterly delighted when I bolted.’
He shook his head. ‘You are wrong. She was ravaged with worry.’
‘You surprise me. I thought she would have been over the moon because you were free again.’
‘But I am not free.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Having married you in the cattedrale in Montedaluca, I am bound to you for life.’
Alicia’s eyes flashed. ‘Cut the drama, Francesco. You can get a divorce easily enough. Or easier still you could just get the marriage annulled after what happened—or didn’t happen—between us.’
‘No one knows this,’ he said, his tone so harsh it startled her. ‘Unless you told your mother, or Megan?’
Alicia shivered and drew the cardigan closer. ‘How could I bear to talk about—about that to anyone?’
‘So what reason did you give your mother for leaving me?’
‘I said I’d made a huge mistake; that it was better to make a clean break right away.’ She smiled. ‘Bron, not surprisingly, wished I’d decided before the ceremony rather than after, but she sympathised totally with my refusal to return to Montedaluca. The contessa was no warmer to her than she was to me, even though Bron did her the courtesy of agreeing to hold the wedding in Montedaluca instead of Cardiff.’
‘But Signora Cross soon had her revenge,’ he said grimly.
Alicia frowned. ‘How, exactly?’
‘When my mother accompanied me to Cardiff to see her—’
‘She did what?’
Francesco’s eyes narrowed. ‘You did not know this?’
‘I most certainly did not!’
‘It was very soon after you left me, Alicia.’
She stared at him in blank astonishment.
‘You do not believe me?’ He shrugged. ‘It is the truth. Your mother swore to me that you had gone away.’
Alicia regrouped hurriedly. ‘I had. When I got back from Paris I was so—so miserable I was sent off with Megan to stay with her grandmother in Hay-on-Wye for a while to recover. Or try to.’
Francesco’s jaw tightened. ‘I was told nothing of this during the visit. Megan’s parents were there to support your mother. Also the large brother.’ He smiled grimly. ‘They were unmoved by my anguish. Your mother insisted that you never wanted to see me again.’
Alicia stared at him, shaken, feeling the warmth drain from her face.
‘You are very pale. Do you have brandy, Alicia?’ asked Francesco gently. He got up to take her by the hand and led her to the sofa.
‘No.’ She tried to smile, but her lips were stiff. ‘I’ll make some tea in a minute.’
‘Tell me what to do and I will make it,’ he commanded.
‘No. First I just need to sit and get my head round this.’
Francesco sat beside her, keeping tight hold of her hand. ‘I swear it is the truth, Alicia.’
‘I’m sure it is. It would be easy enough to disprove. But it’s a shock, just the same,’ she said huskily, her throat thickening. ‘I just wish I’d known.’
‘Piangi!’ he ordered, and held her close.
Alicia obeyed, but not for long. She blew her nose in the handkerchief Francesco produced, but when she tried to move away he held her tightly, one hand sliding under the ancient cardigan to smooth over the silk covering her shoulders.
‘No, piccola. Stay. It is easier to talk like this, no?’
Oh, yes. Half seduced by his touch, the mixed pain and pleasure of his endearment made it all too dangerously easy. But, a voice in her brain quickly reminded her, although his mother had been partly to blame for her headlong escape from matrimony it had been Francesco’s words that had actually sent his bride on the run. Words that had remained, engraved in her mind, ever since. Alicia pushed at his restraining arms until he released her, then went back to the chair. Sniffing inelegantly, she mopped away the last of her tears and smiled at him in bleak apology as she drew the cardigan closer.
‘I’m afraid I’ve ruined your handkerchief.’
‘Gran Dio, what does that matter?’ His eyes glittered like blue flames. ‘When you ran from me you ruined my life!’
Alicia met the look head on. ‘I thought I was giving it back to you, Signor Conte. I was sure you’d go back to your mamma and Montedaluca, glad to be free of your unsatisfactory bride. I’m sure the contessa was thrilled.’
‘As I have told you,’ he said harshly, ‘she was not.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Nevertheless, it is the truth. When she saw my despair, my mother confessed to much regret that she had not behaved well towards you.’
‘To a “freckled schoolgirl with red hair and a figure like a boy”,’ quoted Alicia with deadly accuracy.
Faint colour rose along Francesco’s patrician cheekbones. ‘You overheard?’
‘Except for the Italian for freckles, which I already knew, your mother took good care to speak English.’
‘So that the servants would not understand,’ he said stiffly.
‘But
