Grandfather hasn’t said I have to actually get married again, only produce the Bell heir.’
‘Incredible.’ Eleni still looked dazed. ‘I thought Niccolo was being unreasonable a year ago when he was so against my wanting to marry an Englishman, but your grandfather’s behaviour is positively archaic!’
Dani had been present on the day that Eleni told her brother she intended marrying Brad and living in England with him—moral support, Eleni had called it!—and could clearly remember Niccolo D’Alessandro’s icy disapproval that his sister should be contemplating marrying anyone who was not a Venetian.
She also remembered the way Niccolo had looked so coldly down his arrogant nose at her that day, as if he suspected her of being responsible for Eleni’s stubborn refusal to back down. Not true, of course, but Dani had known there was no point in even trying to defend herself against such prejudice.
As Eleni and Brad’s wedding was due to take place next weekend it was obvious who had won that particular battle—and that was yet another thing Niccolo D’Alessandro would no doubt blame Dani for!
‘I know that, and you know that, but my grandfather has never claimed to be a reasonable man,’ Dani said.
‘But—’
‘Can we please not talk about this anymore today, Eleni?’ Dani cut in. ‘I’ve thought of nothing else for the last week, and it just gives me a headache.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ Eleni frowned. ‘You should have talked to me about it before, Dani,’ she admonished her friend. ‘I can’t believe your mother and father would really lose Wiverley Hall and the stables if you haven’t—’
‘Eleni, please! Can we talk about your wedding next week instead?’ Then Dani shuddered as a thought occurred to her. ‘Has Niccolo arrived yet?’ she asked tentatively.
Eleni, diverted by Dani’s obvious aversion to seeing her brother again, shook her head. ‘I’ve never understood why you and Niccolo have never become friends.’
‘Probably because we are both of the opinion that the less we see of each other the better,’ Dani retorted.
‘But you’re the two people I love most in the world—apart from Brad, of course—and I can feel the antagonism start to rise the moment the two of you are in the same room together!’ Eleni wailed.
Niccolo D’Alessandro was thirty-seven now, to Dani’s almost twenty-four, and the crush Dani had once had on the arrogant Venetian had—as Eleni so rightly pointed out—developed into antagonism on both sides. Out of dislike and disapproval on Niccolo’s side—especially after Dani’s brief marriage and divorce—and out of pure self-defence on hers.
She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘We just don’t like each other.’
‘But why don’t you?’ Eleni pressed, frustrated. ‘I know I’m his sister, but you have to admit that Niccolo is the epitome of “tall, dark, and handsome”, and he has such a dangerous sexual aura about him he should come with a public health warning. And you’re absolutely gorgeous—’
‘So you already said,’ Dani teased. ‘None of which alters the fact that your brother makes me break out in a rash every time I see him, and that I seem to have the same effect on him.’
‘It’s a total mystery to me,’ Eleni continued. ‘Niccolo is usually so stiffly correct, so—so Venetian, that I simply don’t understand his behaviour whenever he’s around you.’
Dani chuckled softly. ‘One of life’s mysteries you’re just going to have to live with, I’m afraid.’ She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Now, I really will have to go; I have another appointment in town later this morning.’
‘But I haven’t told you about our plans for the honeymoon yet,’ Eleni protested.
‘And I would really rather you didn’t. Besides, I really don’t have any more time.’
‘Don’t forget we have the final fitting for your brides-maid’s dress in the morning,’ her friend reminded her.
‘As if!’ Dani slung her capacious bag over her shoulder. She was wearing her usual work clothes: fitted black trousers and, today, a cashmere sweater the same deep green as her eyes. ‘Although I doubt anyone will even notice what I’m wearing once you appear in that delectable froth of white lace.’
‘I have every intention of introducing you to all my eligible male cousins next Saturday, you know,’ Eleni promised.
Dani shook her head. ‘Introduce away, Eleni, but I can assure you I won’t fall for any of them.’ Especially if they were anything like the arrogantly forceful Niccolo D’Alessandro!
‘Maybe not at the wedding next weekend, but how about at my masquerade party here next summer?’
Dani knew that was part of the reason that Eleni had fallen in love with this particular house. Her friend had taken one look at the spacious garden with its numerous trees and shrubs and instantly decided that the following August she would throw a real Venetian masquerade party there. In fact, her friend was almost as excited about the party next summer as she was about her wedding next week!
‘Not then, either,’ Dani said dryly.
‘But everyone falls in love during the Venetian Festival,’ her friend protested. ‘I remember my Aunt Carlotta telling me that she once spent the whole evening at one of the festivals flirting with her own husband—my Uncle Bartolomeo—without even realising it!’
Dani grinned. ‘I bet he was surprised!’
‘From the becoming blush on my aunt’s cheeks when she told me about it afterwards I would say they both were!’
‘Eleni!’ Dani chided laughingly.
‘You’ll see at the party next year,’ her friend promised. ‘The festival is a way for everyone to misbe have without anyone needing to feel guilty about it.’
‘Even your brother?’ Dani taunted.
‘Well…perhaps not Niccolo,’ Eleni conceded. ‘But the party is months away, Dani, and if you haven’t solved the problem with your grandfather’s will by then, an evening of anonymity could be the answer.’
‘No, Eleni,’ Dani said, easily able to guess what her friend was about to suggest, and having no intention of being seduced into the shrubbery by one of Eleni’s male cousins in order to become pregnant. ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking, and the answer is most definitely no,’ she repeated firmly.
‘But—’
‘No, Eleni.’
‘It was just an idea.’ Her friend shrugged ruefully.
‘Well, it was a lousy one—oh!’ Having intended making her way out of the house to her car in the driveway, Dani instead found herself crashing painfully into something very hard and unyielding.
A man’s chest, she realised, once the pain in her jarred chin had abated to a mild throb.
Niccolo D’Alessandro’s
