Legacy Of Shame. Diana Hamilton

and Simon were more than capable of running the business he had shares in; it had ticked over for years without the Rossi family doing any more than pocket the dividends. Besides, he was running the diverse Rossi business empire virtually single-handedly now that his father had opted to take a back seat because of failing health. It wasn’t likely he’d visit England again in a hurry.

      Covering her dripping, voluptuous nakedness with a bath-sheet, she wondered forlornly if he would ever spare her a passing thought, and decided he wouldn’t. The flock of lovely, elegant ladies whose undoubted existence Potty had guessed at would ensure that she, Venetia, the overgrown schoolgirl whose protestations of love must have embarrassed him so, would be pretty promptly erased from his memory.

      Indifferent now to how she looked, she pulled on a pair of shabby cotton jeans and the only school blouse that hadn’t been cut up for polishing rags, then mooched along to see her father.

      Potty had taken him a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice, and his bed was covered with papers and files.

      ‘Should you be working?’ she asked concernedly, twisting her long, shiny hair back behind her head, wishing she’d taken the time to plait it, because today was going to be boiling.

      ‘I’m not,’ he told her, staring at her over the top of his glasses. ‘Just getting things in some sort of coherent order to pass on to Simon when he arrives. Which should be any time now. Would you like to ask him to stay to lunch, to keep you company?’

      There was only one man’s company she wanted. Trouble was, he didn’t want hers. She shook her head mutely and her father frowned.

      ‘What’s wrong? You look drained. You’re not still worried about me? Because if you are—don’t.’

      ‘It’s the heat,’ she lied, wondering if she would ever feel happy again, fully alive and carefree. She couldn’t imagine it, somehow.

      ‘Then go and cool off in the pool, poppet. Simon can find his own way up and Carlo’s busy in the library—dictating reports, he said. So you can have a nice, relaxing morning all to yourself.’

      Returning to her room, she decided that her father’s idea wasn’t a bad one at that. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself a second time. She’d keep right out of Carlo’s way; there was no point in trying to make her peace with him. When Simon had been and gone Carlo would have his business discussion with her father and take off to the airport. Until then she would make herself scarce. The pool in the old walled courtyard would be as good a place as any to hide out.

      Her old school regulation swimsuit was now too tight in various places, and the bikinis she’d lashed out on to replace it were, on consideration, barely decent. Shrugging her square shoulders, she decided it didn’t matter. No one would see her and she’d use a towelling robe to cover up as she walked through the house.

      The water was deliciously cool, and a few punishing lengths of the pool left her feeling more relaxed as she finally turned over and floated idly on her back. If she didn’t think, if she simply concentrated on staying afloat, then she might be able to stay calm enough to say goodbye to Carlo in an hour or two, with some composure, at least.

      The knife-thrust of pain at the very idea of having to say goodbye to him at all made her clench her teeth, made her knees jerk up to her chest in a purely reflex action, sending her down to the blue tiles six feet below. And she didn’t care if she never surfaced, but she bobbed up to the top, shaking the water out of her eyes, and saw Simon silhouetted against the sun, and wished herself down at the bottom again because she didn’t want to have to talk to anyone. She was too depressed.

      ‘That looks good.’ He sounded amused, breathless, too, as if he’d been running. ‘If someone would lend me a pair of briefs, I’d join you. Unless—’ his voice thickened ‘—you’d like to see me in the nude?’

      ‘Why on earth should I want to do that?’ she retorted crossly, diving for the steps and hauling herself up, because she had to get out of here. He had spoiled what little pleasure there’d been in the morning.

      Frowning, she planted her feet on the tiled surround. On the last two occasions they’d been out together Simon had been far too pushy, his language at times too coarse for her liking. She had put up with it only because the only other option had been to stay home, miss out on all the fun, hardly ever see her friends.