She turned to Tonio. ‘Our guest is clearly shocked. Fetch her some brandy.’
Flora shook her head. ‘I want nothing. Except to get out of here.’
The Contessa leaned back in her chair, studying Flora from under lowered lids. ‘No doubt you are eager to go back to the castello—to confront Marco on his return and beg him to tell you that none of this is true. If so, you will be disappointed—and even more humiliated than you are now.’
She paused. ‘But there is an alternative.’ She snapped her fingers and Tonio hurried to pass her a narrow folder from a nearby table. ‘This is a plane ticket to England on a flight that leaves this evening. If you wish to take advantage of it my nephew will drive you to the airport. I shall inform Marco myself that you have learned the truth and returned to London. Once you have gone the whole matter can finally be laid to rest.’
She held out the ticket. ‘Take it, signorina. Learn sense at last. There is nothing left for you here.’
Flora’s instinct was to tear the folder into small pieces and throw them at the Contessa. But she couldn’t afford to do that, and she knew it. She’d been offered an escape route and she needed to take it, whatever the cost to her pride.
Except she no longer had any pride. Realising how cruelly and cynically she’d been manipulated had left her self-esteem in tatters. She felt bone-weary, and sick at heart. And too anguished even to cry.
She said tonelessly, ‘My clothes—belongings—are still at the castello.’
‘No, they are here,’ the Contessa told her. ‘I thought you would see where your best interests lay. I told Ninetta to pack your things and have them brought here. You can leave as soon as you wish.’
Flora lifted her chin. ‘The sooner, the better, I think. Don’t you?’
‘Then—addio, signorina.’ The thin lips stretched in a chill smile. ‘We shall not, I think, meet again. Your involvement in this affair was an unfortunate necessity which is now over.’
‘Signorina Flora.’ Tonio was at the door, holding it open for her.
As she reached it Flora turned, looking back at Ottavia, studying her frankly voluptuous figure in the pink dress. ‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘What happened to the baby?’
Something fleeting came and went in Ottavia’s face, but her voice was haughty. ‘I did not choose to have it. Do you think that a Baressi would give birth to an illegitimate child?’
‘After today,’ Flora said quietly, ‘I would say the Baressis are capable of anything.’
And, she thought, as the stunned numbness began to wear off and pain tore at her, so are the Valantes. Oh, Marco—Marco…
She drew a deep, shaky breath, then, without another word or backward glance, she walked through the dark hall and out towards the harsh dazzle of sunshine.
The drive to the airport seemed endless. She sat beside Tonio in a kind of frozen stupor, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her fingers ached, her eyes blind as she stared through the windscreen ahead of her.
‘You are not very amusing, cara,’ her companion commented after a few miles.
‘I seem to have mislaid my sense of humour.’
He clicked his tongue in reproof. ‘You must not brood, you know, because your little holiday in the sun has been cut short. We could not allow you to cling to your illusions any longer, and one day you will be grateful to us.’
‘Possibly,’ Flora rejoined shortly. ‘But forgive me if I’m not overwhelmed with gratitude at the moment.’
Tonio laughed softly. ‘You are not very lucky with your men, are you, carissima? Your fidanzato betrays you and your lover takes you for revenge. It is not a happy situation for you.’
‘It hasn’t exactly been a joyous time for your cousin Ottavia either,’ Flora came back at him sharply as she remembered the fleeting moment of pain and vulnerability that had surfaced among the spite and hysteria.
And she realised with shock that she had barely spared a thought for Chris’s behaviour in all this.
‘Oh, Ottavia will survive,’ he said with insouciance. ‘She has the Baressi name and money behind her, after all, and there has been no open scandal. My aunt is a careful woman.’
Flora bit her lip. ‘I believe you.’
Tonio lowered his voice confidentially. ‘I think she hopes that even now she can persuade Marco to remember the ties between our families and resume his engagement to Ottavia.’
Flora turned her head slowly and stared at him. ‘You actually think that—after everything that’s happened?’
‘Why not?’ He shrugged. ‘It was not a love match the first time. Marco, you see, does not really care about women. Oh, he likes them as decoration, to be seen with in public, and he enjoys their bodies. But that is all.’
He shrugged again. ‘It was time for him to marry, and one woman is very like another to him. That must have been the only reason for his engagement to Ottavia. She is beautiful, certainly, but so demanding.’
She said stonily, ‘Then you won’t be offering to console her?’
He laughed. ‘She has never tempted me. But you, carissima, are a different proposition,’ he added, giving her a sidelong glance. ‘We could always change your air ticket to a later date. Italy has many beauties and I would be happy to be your guide. What do you think?’
‘You really don’t want to know what I think.’ She was suddenly aware that his hand was straying in the direction of her knee, and stiffened. ‘And if you lay one finger on me, signore, I’ll break your jaw.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, it is your loss, not mine. But then, you are a loser all round, Signorina Flora,’ he added with a sly smile.
They completed the rest of the journey in silence. When they arrived at the airport Tonio reached into his jacket and produced an envelope which he extended to her.
‘What is this?’ Flora made no attempt to take it.
‘A further gift from my aunt.’ He peeled back a corner of the flap, revealing the substantial wad of banknotes inside. ‘She is aware that Marco would have been generous with you on parting and does not wish you to suffer financially from her intervention. She offers this as compensation.’
‘She’s very thoughtful.’ Flora opened the passenger door. ‘But I’m not for sale.’
Tonio got out as well, and retrieved her bag from the boot. ‘Oh, I think you were sold, Flora mia,’ he said softly. ‘And for thirty pieces of silver. Ciao, baby.’
As she walked to the glass doors leading to the main concourse she heard him drive away. And then—and only then—she allowed one slow, scalding tear to escape down the curve of her cheek.
‘You look terrible,’ said Hester, in a tone that mingled brutal candour with concern.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Flora retorted.
‘I’m being serious.’ Hester poured coffee from the percolator and handed a cup to Flora. ‘Ever since you got back from that Italian trip you’ve looked like death on a stick. You barely ate enough at dinner tonight to keep a fly alive—and not for the first time. If you lose much more weight you’ll disappear altogether. And don’t think I can’t hear you pacing up and down your room every night, when you should be asleep.’
Flora gave her a troubled look. ‘Oh, Hes, am I keeping you awake? I’m so sorry. Maybe it’s time I started looking for another place of my own.’
‘No,