Page 37 of Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child
‘Not too busy to assist my bride.’ His cool tone reinforced what Carys already knew, that this would be a duty for the older woman, not a pleasure.
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Carys said through gritted teeth and turned away, only to find her door already open. A man in a butler’s uniform bowed, waiting for her to step out.
‘Grazie,’ she murmured, dredging up her rusty Italian.
He smiled and bowed deeper. ‘Welcome, madam. It’s a pleasure to have you here.’
Delight warmed her as she realised she could understand his clear, precise Italian. It had been almost two years since she’d spoken it, but she had an ear for languages. Perhaps because she’d spent so many years honing her memory and learning by heart at school. She’d discovered that was the best way to avoid revising with reams of written notes.
Hesitantly she tried out a little more Italian as she got out of the car. She was gratified when Paulo, the butler, encouraged her faltering attempts. Soon he was telling her about the comforts of the villa awaiting her, including a lavish morning tea, and she was responding.
Carys let him usher her from the car, only to pull up short at the sight of Alessandro waiting for her.
He held Leo, still slumbering, in his arms. For a moment the sight of her son, flushed with sleep and hair tousled, snuggled up against the wide shoulder of his magnificent, handsome father, made her heart falter in its rhythm.
Then Alessandro spoke, fortunately in a voice pitched only for her ears. ‘If you’ve finished practising your charm on my staff we can go in.’
Confused, Carys met his searing dark scrutiny.
‘Now we’re marrying, you need to forget about winning other men’s smiles.’ His grim tone made it clear he wasn’t joking. ‘My wife needs to be above reproach.’
‘You think I was flirting?’ Amazement coloured her voice. She could scarcely credit it. Alessandro sounded almost… jealous.
The idea was preposterous. But the glitter of disapproval in his eyes intrigued her.
She imagined things. Alessandro had wanted her sexually in Melbourne only because she was convenient and shamingly willing. But that was past. Now he saw her solely as Leo’s mother. He hadn’t touched her since he’d discovered his son. Clearly he wanted her for Leo not himself.
Carys thanked her lucky stars for that. It gave her distance. Safety. For if he ever decided to seduce her again, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to resist.
‘I think it’s time we went in and settled our son,’ he said, ignoring her blurted question. He breached the distance between them, consuming her personal space till she found it almost impossible to draw a steady breath. ‘You’ll be tired after the journey and you need rest before this afternoon.’
‘This afternoon?’ Bemused, Carys shook her head.
‘Livia has arranged a designer to fit you for your wedding dress.’ His lips curved up in a tight smile that could have signalled either pleasure or stoic acceptance. ‘We marry at the end of the week.’
CHAPTER NINE
FOUR hours later Carys waited, palms damp with trepidation, for the haute couture designer who’d been brought in to produce her wedding gown.
The fact that Alessandro’s name could procure a top designer to dress her in such a short time only reinforced his enormous wealth and the huge gulf between them. Carys had never had anything made to order in her life.
The few high-fashion gurus she’d met while working had been condescending creatures. Perhaps because they took one look at her: average height, average face, unfashionably rounded figure, and knew she was no clothes horse.
At least this one already knew the worst. Alessandro had insisted on having her measurements taken in Melbourne and sent through to Milan, with a rather unflattering photo.
Carys glanced at her watch. Maybe the designer wouldn’t show. Maybe they’d decided the challenge of passing her off as anything approaching chic was too hard.
She grimaced as she paced the salon, wishing the appointment was somewhere less imposing. The luxurious formality of the reception rooms stifled. Carefully she avoided the gilt-edged antique mirrors and stiff, silk-upholstered chairs. She felt like an ugly duckling, plucked out of her comfortable little pond and plonked in a palace.
If only she’d been allowed to buy a ready-made dress.
Despite her nerves, her lips twitched as she remembered Alessandro’s look of astonishment when she suggested it. Only a big formal wedding would do for the Conte Mattani and his bride. No quick civil ceremony was permitted.
So now she had to face a temperamental artiste, no doubt disappointed the bride wouldn’t live up to their designs. Carys stood straighter, preparing for the worst.
