On that draining thought she levered herself tiredly away from the door and walked further into the lovely room. Apart from the gilded four-poster bed the furnishings and decorations were a dreamy medley of white and creams, gauzy drapes fluttering at the tall windows that looked out over the sun-drenched landscape, over the silver olive groves and purple hills.
She would have to prepare herself, put on the camouflage of warpaint and chic designer armour, and as if on cue Rosa came bouncing in after a decidedly hysterical rap on the door.
‘Il padrone has arrived! So unexpected—everyone’s running round in circles! Did you know? Why didn’t you tell us to make ready? Come, I will help you dress, make yourself beautiful for him!’
Cat forced a thin smile. Rosa, assigned as her personal maid on her arrival here two months ago, had become her dresser, her nanny, her arbiter of correct behaviour and her friend. Unlike the other members of staff Rosa wasn’t painfully deferential and she didn’t whisper behind her hands when she thought she was out of earshot. And no, Aldo hadn’t said anything about finally deigning to visit her the last time he’d phoned her.
‘You have already bathed?’ Rosa didn’t wait for an answer, bustling towards the huge hanging cupboard that almost filled one wall, tutting disapprovingly as her eyes fell on the untouched breakfast tray. ‘You must eat, signora. You lose too much weight already.’ She pulled out one of the fitted drawers and handed Cat her selection of underwear, filmy, lacy pale cream briefs and bra, her kind eyes softening. ‘I understand how you feel about losing your baby; it was a terrible thing to happen, but an accident of nature and nothing to blame yourself for. There will be other babies for you.’
Nothing to blame herself for? She knew differently. Removing her wrap and dressing in the understated chic of the smoky-grey sleeveless shirt-shift Rosa had put out for her, Cat shivered as the cool silk whispered against her body. She’d been assured at the private clinic where she’d been taken on that dreadful night that the early miscarriage had been nature’s way of coping when everything was not as it should be.
She had said nothing to oppose the well-meaning platitudes but she’d known that if she hadn’t been so tense and anxious she wouldn’t have lost her baby.
Aldo had politely and coolly distanced himself from her when he’d heard of the coming baby. Overjoyed at the news of her pregnancy, of course, and very solicitous.
Too solicitous, she’d felt smothered. Her eager explorations of the beautiful old city with her husband as her attentive guide had been firmly vetoed and he’d given orders to his staff at their Florence home that she was to rest, take a little gentle exercise in the cool of the day with Beppe, an ancient retainer who could walk no faster than a snail, as her companion.
And Aldo himself had been away more often than he’d been at home, catching up on the business responsibilities he’d neglected since their marriage, or so he’d said, and worst of all moving out to another bedroom.
‘You are carrying my child,’ he told her gently when she’d protested. ‘If I share your bed I will make love to you; I will not be able to help myself. And our loving is fierce, truly passionate. Yes? I will do nothing to harm you or the tiny life you carry.’
In view of the way he’d ordered everyone to treat her as if she were made from the finest of brittle spun glass, she might have believed him. She might have lovingly teased him about being over-protective if Iolanda Cardinale hadn’t dripped all that poison into her ears.
She’d refused to believe a word of what the hateful woman had said but the change in Aldo’s attitude towards her when he’d learned of her pregnancy had forced her to acknowledge that Iolanda could have been telling the truth. Her tortured thoughts, her aching anxiety had to be responsible for that miscarriage.
Dutifully seating herself in front of the long mirror in its ornate gilded frame, she watched Rosa working on her hair, brushing it back from her face and securing it neatly in a French pleat.
It had been the first grand dinner party Aldo had thrown on their return from honeymoon, she remembered with a stab of the usual pain. Mainly for the benefit of business associates and friends who hadn’t been able to attend the wedding and be introduced to his new bride at the lavish reception.
Iolanda, as Aldo’s executive PA, had been there, oozing the understated chic Italians were so good at. Her svelte, cool loveliness had made Cat feel gaudy and overdressed in her swirly skirted, bootlace-strapped confection in her favourite shade of vibrant scarlet.
Wandering out onto the terrace to catch a breath of the cool evening air, Iolanda had joined her. As the only unpartnered guest at the gathering Cat had made a point of drawing Iolanda into the conversation around the dinner table so she wouldn’t feel left out. So her smile was wide as she acknowledged the other woman.
‘I would like to talk to you,’ Iolanda said.
‘That’s nice! It’s getting rather stuffy inside, isn’t it?’ Perhaps, being on her own, the other woman was feeling a bit out of things now that dinner was over and the guests circulating, forming chattering groups. ‘Shall we find somewhere to sit? There are seats—’
‘No.’ The other woman cut across her, a note of impatience in her drawl. ‘This will only take moments. In view of the situation I thought we ought to be properly introduced.’
‘I thought we had been.’ Cat smiled, puzzled, wondering if she’d missed something. Iolanda shook her head slowly, her smooth, raven-dark hair gleaming in the overflow of light from the main salon, her answering smile slight, tight and superior.
‘Not really. You are Aldo’s wife. I am Aldo’s mistress. Ordinarily, we would of course know of each other’s existence but we would not meet. Discretion in such matters is important—that is understood. But as Aldo and I work so closely together our occasional meetings cannot be avoided. I thought we should understand our positions. Suspicions and speculations only make life uncomfortable, as I’m sure you would grow to learn when you have done your duty and given him an heir and he begins to spend more time away from you than with you and you wonder why.’
Again that hateful, superior little smile that left Cat speechless with a mixture of rage and disbelief at what she was hearing. ‘That being said, I would strongly advise you against making a fuss about a situation which a man in Aldo’s position regards as being absolutely normal. An hysterical fuss would only serve to estrange him from you entirely and do you no good at all.’
‘There—all done.’ Rosa stepped back, surveying the neat outcome of her ministrations with satisfaction. ‘I’ll leave you to do your make-up. Be sure you cover up those dark circles round your eyes and put some colour on your cheeks!’
Cat watched her reflection with no enthusiasm at all. She no longer looked like herself. Her exuberant hair had been flattened and tamed, her mouth drooped and her eyes looked haunted.
She’d been stunned, knocked speechless by what Iolanda had said, but she hadn’t believed a word of it. She’d refused to let herself believe it. The woman was obviously a raving idiot! Iolanda wanted Aldo for herself and was out to make mischief.
Having every intention of telling Aldo of his assistant’s crazed lies, she’d changed her mind when as soon as the last guest had departed he’d swept her up in his arms and carried her up the sweeping staircase.
‘I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep my hands off you!’ he breathed rawly. ‘All evening long I’ve wanted to rip your
