She smiled. ‘Thank you—that would be lovely. And Matteo will probably ask if I’ve seen it.’
For a moment something changed in Luca’s eyes, but she didn’t know what. Not that she should care, of course, what he felt or thought. He was nothing to do with her any more. They were being forced into each other’s unwilling company simply out of mutual compassion for Matteo—that was all.
I need to remember that.
They went back indoors. It was cooler inside—noticeably so. A manservant was there, and Luca greeted him in a familiar fashion as Bianca took the chair being held for her and Luca sat himself down too. The oval table was now adorned with avariety of platters whose delicate decoration matched the walls and carpet.
‘My mother found this service hidden away and was delighted with it. She styled the room around it. The original wall coverings were too faded to save, unfortunately, but the carpet, which was originally in a bedroom, was mended where it had become worn, and the ceiling was re-stencilled. It became her favourite room in thepalazzo.’
‘I can see why,’ Bianca said warmly, casting another appreciative glance around her.
It was strange to think of Luca with a mother—or a father, come to that. Or a home at all. In London he’d been a high-flying ex-pat, his apartment ultramodern and anonymous.
He was just passing through—and picking me up in passing too. Then letting me go again. I never meant anything to him…
She felt a knot start to form inside her at old, painful memories. Determinedly, she unknotted it. That was then, and this was now—and there was no connection between them. No connection between herself and Luca, either, apart from Matteo.
Luca glanced at the manservant. ‘Thank you—we’ll look after ourselves now,’ he said, and the man took his leave.
Bianca reached for the crested silver serving spoons and helped herself to a slice of cold poached salmon, and then a liberal helping of salad. Luca poured them both a glass of white wine. Today she accepted it—she felt she needed it.
It was disquieting to see Luca here in his ancestral environment. All the silver was crested with the same device as on the gold signet ring on his finger—some mythical heraldic figure—and the two guardian stone beasts at the front door had brought home to her just how very different the world he came from was from the one she came from.
No wonder it never entered his head that I might ever be a part of it. To him it was absurd—unthinkable. An Italianaristocrat, with a centuries-old palazzo, and a girl like me off a council estate in the East End? Of course I was nothing more to him than a novelty! How could I ever have been anything else to him?
The pang that came was familiar, but the thought that came with it was not.
I wanted too much from him. More than our affair allowed me.
She started to eat. The salmon was delicious, perfectly poached, the salads fresh and light, the wine crisp and cold.
For a while they said nothing, then Luca spoke.
‘You’re not wearing the ring I bought you,’ he said.
Was that annoyance in his voice?
Bianca looked across at him. ‘Of course not. If the jeweller could tell that it looks like a miniature version of the D’Alabruschi betrothal ring, I assumed your staff here might well notice it too! That’s the last thing you need. As it is, I’m just a guest you’re showing your stately home to and that’s all.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry I chose that particular ring. Obviously I had no idea—’ She broke off. Took a breath. ‘You should have stopped me…bought a different one.’
‘I didn’t know the jeweller would recognise it, or, indeed, recognise me. And besides—’
It was Luca who broke off now. Then resumed. ‘Besides, it suits you. Emeralds always will,’ he added dryly. He paused again, minutely this time. ‘Of course you’ll be able to buy your own soon.’
‘Oh, yes—going on a jewellery acquisition spree is the first thing I’ll do the moment my uncle is dead and buried!’ Bianca retorted sarcastically.
Luca’s brows snapped together in a frown. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
She subsided. ‘No, I’m sorry.’ She took a breath. ‘It must be…odd…for you to see me with your godfather…as his niece.’
He looked at her. ‘Yes,’ he said. He paused a moment, his expression changing, then added, ‘But I wish you well, Bianca. I hope you know that.’
She met his eyes. ‘Do you? But it doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s a long time since our paths crossed.’ She took another breath. ‘And seeing you here, in this place, surrounded by all this… I can see more clearly than I could then. Of course what I wanted was impossible—unthinkable!’
She resumed eating. The silence seemed awkward suddenly.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, Bianca.’
Her eyes flew up. He was frowning again, but there was a shadowing in his eyes she had not seen before…something in his voice she hadn’t heard before.