Sweet Revenge by Anne Mather

wishing he would stop looking at her. There was a kind of insolence about his gaze which was not unlike the kind of glances Francesca had given her. She felt her temper rising at this realization. What right had he to treat her so carelessly?
    'Senhor ,' she said, breaking the uneasy silence which had fallen, 'will you please tell me what it is you have to say and let me go!'
    'Patience,' replied the Conde sardonically, and turning away approached the cocktail bar where Eduardo had left a shaker full of liquid and a crystal glass waiting for him.
    Toni contemplated ignoring him altogether and leaving the room, but that would be very rude, and she was not used to behaving in such a manner. On the other hand, she was not used to this kind of sustained battle of nerves, and she wished there was a chair nearby, for she was afraid her legs might not remain firm. She had already had one sample of the kind of anger the Conde possessed that day in Lisbon, and she had no wish to arouse him again, as much for her own sake as Paul's.
    The Conde poured two drinks, extracting a glass from Below the serving surface. Then he added two squares of ice to each, and turning came across and handed one to Toni.
    Then he passed her, closed the lounge door with a firm click, and came back to her. Toni did not touch her drink.
    The Conde swallowed half of his, and then said: 'The drink is not to your liking, senhorita?'
    Toni compressed her lips for a moment. 'I don't drink at this hour of the day, Senhor Conde.'
    He looked amused. 'Do you not, senhorita ? Why?'
    Toni was speechless. Why didn't she? Should she explain that in the social sphere she moved in drinks were not a natural accompaniment to living? Instead, she said: 'I do not drink very much at all, Senhor Conde.'
    He smiled sarcastically. 'Then you are indeed unique in Paul's small circle of friends,' he said, shrugging his broad shoulders. Toni noticed the movement. Although his shoulders were broad, his hips were narrow, and there was not an ounce of spare flesh on his body. Her eyes were drawn to his scar, and she wondered how it came to be there, then flushed as she realized she was staring. 'Does this—' he flicked a hand at his scar —does this disturb you?' His eyes narrowed. 'I have grown so used to living with it I forget its appearance can offend people.'
    Toni shook her head. 'No, it does not disturb me, Senhor Conde,' she replied, bending her head.
    He seemed sceptical of her reply. In any event, he moved further away from her, turning so that side of his face was hidden. 'So, senhorita ,' he went on, 'you are Paul's fiancee. That is very interesting. Can you then tell me what you were doing wandering alone about the streets of Lisbon, in apparent need of an escort?'
    Toni flushed, again. 'Paul - Paul was - he was making arrangements for hiring the car to bring us here,' she finished quickly.
    'I see.' He finished his drink, and crossing to the cocktail bar poured himself another. Then he faced her again. 'No doubt, as you are Paul's fiancee, you are aware of his reasons for bringing you here.'
    Toni stiffened. 'What reasons, senhor?'
    'Come now, I do not believe Paul has not revealed his motives for coming here to you.
    Toni bit her lip. 'Senhor Conde, it is almost lunch time and I wish to change before then. Surely this catechism should be addressed to Paul, not to myself.'
    He felt in his pocket and produced a slim gold cigarette case. He extracted a cigarette without offering her one, and after it was lit, he said: 'On the contrary, I think it is necessary that I make the position clear to you.'
    Toni, despite her nervousness, was longing for a cigarette, and was rapidly losing patience. 'What position?' She omitted to give him his title, and if he noticed it he made no demur.
    'This, senhorita, ' he said icily. 'That my mother is an old woman, with an old woman's fancies. At the moment, she is of the opinion that Paul is her - how shall I put it? - blue-eyed boy, that is