her.
Conversation was kept to general topics, and conducted in English.
The Signora tried a few times to switch to Italian, but was forestalled by the Count, who silkily reminded her that she was overlooking the presence of their guest, so that she was forced to subside, glaring.
The meal was almost over when Paolo dropped his bombshell.
‘Mamma—the ring that my grandmother left me, which you keep in the safe at the appartamento. You will give it to me when we return to Rome, if you please?’
The ensuing silence was electric. Laura kept her eyes fixed on her plate. Oh, God, she wailed inwardly. What possessed him to say that—and why didn’t he warn me?
Whatever she herself might think of the Signora, and no matter what disagreement over the future Paolo might be engaged in with her, the older woman was still his mother—and he was deliberately taunting her. Pushing his supposed relationship to new limits.
She thought, biting her lip, This is so wrong…
‘It is a valuable piece of jewellery,’ the Signora said at last, her voice shaking a little. ‘It needs to be kept in security. But of course, figlio mio, it is for you to decide.’
‘And I have done so.’ Paolo sent her a bland smile. ‘It is time it was in my keeping.’
Laura put down her spoon, unable to eat another mouthful. Across the candle flames, she sent Paolo a condemnatory look.
After that the conversation flagged, and she was thankful when the Count suggested that they have coffee in the salotto.
It was served black and very strong in small cups.
‘Grappa for the signorina.’ Guillermo proffered a tiny glass of colourless liquid, and she glanced across at Paolo, whose expression was so smug she could have slapped him.
‘What is grappa?’ she asked.
‘A kind of brandy,’ he said. ‘Good for the digestion.’
For medicinal purposes only, Laura thought, raising the glass to her lips. She took one cautious sip, and nearly choked, eyes streaming.
‘My God,’ she said when she could speak, accepting the glass of mineral water that Alessio handed her. ‘How strong is that?’
‘About ninety-per-cent proof,’ he told her, amused. ‘You have never drunk it before?’
‘No,’ she said with feeling. ‘I would definitely have remembered.’
The Count looked at his cousin. ‘Paolo, you have neglected Laura’s education.’
Paolo stopped mopping his face long enough to leer. ‘Al contrario, my dear Alessio, I’ve been concentrating on the things that matter.’
Alessio gave him a thoughtful look, but made no comment, while Laura sat, her face burning, wishing the floor would open.
The Signora, who had been sitting like a stone statue in a corner of the sofa, abruptly announced her intention of watching television, which, Laura discovered, was housed in a large carved cabinet in the corner of the room. It was some kind of current affairs programme, which she was unable to follow, so her interest soon waned.
Instead, she watched the chess game now in progress between the two men. She was no expert, but it was soon obvious that Paolo had got himself into an impossible position.
‘I feel too ill to play,’ he said peevishly as he resigned. ‘I shall tell Emilia to make a tisana and bring it to my bedroom.’
He pushed back his chair and got up, kissing Laura on the cheek.
‘Goodnight, carissima. If I sleep now, I shall be well tomorrow, so that we can spend some time alone together, and I can show you my beautiful country. Starting maybe with Assisi, hmm?’
Laura forced a smile, and murmured that it would be wonderful.
He kissed his mother’s hand, ignored the basilisk glance she sent him, and disappeared.
Alessio moved the pieces back to the starting point and looked up at Laura. ‘Would you like to challenge the winner?’ he asked.
‘After the way you dealt with Paolo, I don’t think so.’ Her tone was rueful. ‘You need my young brother. He was school chess champion when he was six.’
‘Your
Conversation was kept to general topics, and conducted in English.
The Signora tried a few times to switch to Italian, but was forestalled by the Count, who silkily reminded her that she was overlooking the presence of their guest, so that she was forced to subside, glaring.
The meal was almost over when Paolo dropped his bombshell.
‘Mamma—the ring that my grandmother left me, which you keep in the safe at the appartamento. You will give it to me when we return to Rome, if you please?’
The ensuing silence was electric. Laura kept her eyes fixed on her plate. Oh, God, she wailed inwardly. What possessed him to say that—and why didn’t he warn me?
Whatever she herself might think of the Signora, and no matter what disagreement over the future Paolo might be engaged in with her, the older woman was still his mother—and he was deliberately taunting her. Pushing his supposed relationship to new limits.
She thought, biting her lip, This is so wrong…
‘It is a valuable piece of jewellery,’ the Signora said at last, her voice shaking a little. ‘It needs to be kept in security. But of course, figlio mio, it is for you to decide.’
‘And I have done so.’ Paolo sent her a bland smile. ‘It is time it was in my keeping.’
Laura put down her spoon, unable to eat another mouthful. Across the candle flames, she sent Paolo a condemnatory look.
After that the conversation flagged, and she was thankful when the Count suggested that they have coffee in the salotto.
It was served black and very strong in small cups.
‘Grappa for the signorina.’ Guillermo proffered a tiny glass of colourless liquid, and she glanced across at Paolo, whose expression was so smug she could have slapped him.
‘What is grappa?’ she asked.
‘A kind of brandy,’ he said. ‘Good for the digestion.’
For medicinal purposes only, Laura thought, raising the glass to her lips. She took one cautious sip, and nearly choked, eyes streaming.
‘My God,’ she said when she could speak, accepting the glass of mineral water that Alessio handed her. ‘How strong is that?’
‘About ninety-per-cent proof,’ he told her, amused. ‘You have never drunk it before?’
‘No,’ she said with feeling. ‘I would definitely have remembered.’
The Count looked at his cousin. ‘Paolo, you have neglected Laura’s education.’
Paolo stopped mopping his face long enough to leer. ‘Al contrario, my dear Alessio, I’ve been concentrating on the things that matter.’
Alessio gave him a thoughtful look, but made no comment, while Laura sat, her face burning, wishing the floor would open.
The Signora, who had been sitting like a stone statue in a corner of the sofa, abruptly announced her intention of watching television, which, Laura discovered, was housed in a large carved cabinet in the corner of the room. It was some kind of current affairs programme, which she was unable to follow, so her interest soon waned.
Instead, she watched the chess game now in progress between the two men. She was no expert, but it was soon obvious that Paolo had got himself into an impossible position.
‘I feel too ill to play,’ he said peevishly as he resigned. ‘I shall tell Emilia to make a tisana and bring it to my bedroom.’
He pushed back his chair and got up, kissing Laura on the cheek.
‘Goodnight, carissima. If I sleep now, I shall be well tomorrow, so that we can spend some time alone together, and I can show you my beautiful country. Starting maybe with Assisi, hmm?’
Laura forced a smile, and murmured that it would be wonderful.
He kissed his mother’s hand, ignored the basilisk glance she sent him, and disappeared.
Alessio moved the pieces back to the starting point and looked up at Laura. ‘Would you like to challenge the winner?’ he asked.
‘After the way you dealt with Paolo, I don’t think so.’ Her tone was rueful. ‘You need my young brother. He was school chess champion when he was six.’
‘Your
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