‘Oh, you’re so beautiful,’ she exclaimed, stroking the little girl’s golden curls and smiling at the little boy, who grinned back shyly. They were already dressed, the girl in a pale blue satin bridesmaid’s dress that was a tiny replica of her own, and the boy in a page outfit with velvet knee britches and a lace ruffled shirt.
‘Ricky is three, and named after you know who.’ Constanza rolled her eyes. ‘And this is Anita, who’s four.’
‘What lovely names. Are you really going to help me at my wedding?’ Gabriella asked them in a conspiratorial tone. Both children nodded seriously. ‘I’m counting on you,’ she said, straightening, and took their hands.
At that moment the Contessa hurried in, suitably attired in a rustling blue silk dress and coat. Several rows of large pearls hung about her neck and her ears gleamed with diamonds of the first water. She was followed closely by Sara. ‘Ah, Constanza, there you are. I was worried your plane might be held up due to that storm in Germany. I see all is arranged. Now, Gabriella,’ she said, turning towards her, ‘run downstairs, my love. Ricardo wishes to see you.’
‘But it’s bad luck for the bridegroom to see the bride on their wedding day before the ceremony,’ Constanza exclaimed, sitting up abruptly on the couch. ‘He must know that.’
‘Rubbish,’ her aunt dismissed with a wave of her bejewelled hand.
‘If it was me I wouldn’t go,’ Constanza said, jumping up and straightening the folds of the wedding gown.
‘Oh, who cares? It really doesn’t matter,’ Gabriella muttered.
‘At least take the gown off and slip something else on,’ Constanza urged.
Their eyes met and, despite her desire to remain cool and aloof, Gabriella nodded.
Slipping into the walk-in-closet, she carefully removed the gown and hung it on a hanger, where its train spread out across the thick-piled beige carpet. She swallowed and her eyes filled with tears. At any other time it would have been the gown of her dreams. She turned quickly away and slipped on a pair of sweats and a short T-shirt that revealed her midriff. Serves him right. She sniffed, raising her chin belligerently and making her way down the wide, ornate corridor painted with frescoes and gold leaf. Tough luck if he didn’t approve of her. She was damned if she was going to be everything he wanted.
He’d soon learn.
A knock on the double-panelled gilt door made Ricardo start. He’d been daydreaming for a moment.
‘Come in.’ He turned and faced the door, which a liveried servant was opening.
‘You requested my presence?’ Gabriella said with mock sweetness, thrusting her thumbs into the top of her sweats and standing at an angle, her foot drumming the floor.
Ricardo watched her, half-amused, half-irritated. She certainly did not look like a blushing bride preparing for her wedding, which was to take place within hours. He was about to make a pithy comment about her T-shirt when he realised with a touch of humour that she had done it on purpose, to provoke him. He smiled inwardly. Let the wedding take place. Then he would make very sure she never went around looking like this any more. As his wife it would be utterly inappropriate.
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