As expected, the PR team had advised that Goldie should not be kept out of the celebrations, to avoid any negative speculation. Well, that was their official standpoint, but Nicole had a feeling that Rigo didn’t want her mother tempted to do any more anonymous interviews before his Fournier deal was put through. The last thing they needed was more scandal.
The secret location for their wedding had been leaked in the past week, but Rigo had assured her that an increased security presence would deter any would-be paparazzi gatecrashers. Truth be told, it didn’t worry her too much. Anna was staying put in Paris until Nicole returned to collect her for their honeymoon.
Forty-eight hours apart seemed like a lifetime right now, but she knew she had done the right thing. Rigo had told her his parents were waiting impatiently to meet their first grandchild, having just returned from the Indian Ocean that morning. He hadn’t spoken of his father much, but she’d got the impression that his family dynamic was one of ease. She just hoped that she gave a better impression to them than she had given to his brother on their first meeting.
Nicole walked down the sweeping staircase, taking in the throng of guests in the chateau’s large reception area. She stood alone at the bottom, looking around for a familiar face and cursing her fiancé. She recognised some of the faces from their engagement party, but without Rigo to smooth the way she felt small and insignificant. Technically, she was the hostess—she should be commanding the event. And yet she wanted nothing more than to run back up the stairs and hide.
A man stood in the centre of the gathering, his presence seeming to make the guests flock around him. His resemblance to her future husband was remarkable—the only difference being the mop of grey waves that crowned his head and his slightly age-weathered features. A small, elegantly dressed woman stood by his side. Valerio Marchesi stepped close to the woman and smiled, dropping a familiar kiss on her cheek before she took him into a warm embrace.
Nicole forced herself to walk the few steps across the room, noting Rigo’s brother tense as he spotted her.
‘I wonder if my brother has decided to bolt,’ he said wryly, looking down at her with moderate disapproval. ‘It would be an awful pity to leave you jilted, Nicole.’
The older brunette stepped forward, taking her in from head to toe. ‘You must be my future daughter-in-law,’ she said, her voice heavily accented. ‘I must apologise that you’re being left to introduce yourself alone. I can imagine this is quite intimidating.’
‘Rigo has likely been delayed at the office,’ she said, her voice shaking slightly with nerves. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’
Rigo’s mother made no move to embrace her nor did she formally introduce herself. His father was deep in conversation and made no move to greet her. Nicole stood in awkward silence, not quite knowing what move to make next.
Her relief when the main door opened was palpable, and the small gathering turned as Rigo entered. He was commandeered instantly by a group of friends near the doorway.
‘My son likes to make an entrance.’ A deep male voice boomed next to her. ‘My apologies for not greeting you straight away. These buffoons still think I hold some power in the fashion industry.’ The man chuckled, the scent of red wine on his breath as he leaned forward. ‘I’m Amerigo Marchesi Senior. You’ve met my wife, Renata?’
He embraced Nicole with the force of a bear, dropping a warm kiss on each cheek before motioning for his wife to do the same.
Nicole noted the tightness around Rigo’s mother’s mouth as she leaned forward to embrace her. She got the distinct impression that the woman already disliked her. Wonderful.
‘We are quite eager to meet little Anna, aren’t we, tesoro?’ Amerigo smiled.
Renata raised a brow, unimpressed. ‘Rigo has been very tight-lipped about it all. We were only told this week, as a matter of fact. Our only grandchild and we haven’t even seen a photograph.’ Renata pursed her lips, looking across to where her son stood.
Nicole saw a telltale tremor in Renata’s lower lip for a brief moment before the woman covered it up by taking a sip from her wine glass. She was hurt at being kept out of the loop. Nicole felt a pang of sympathy for the woman.
She opened her purse, taking out the photograph of Anna that she carried with her for good luck. She held the glossy image out to the older woman, noting how her eyes softened as she accepted it and cradled it in her hands.
‘She has the Marchesi eyes,’ she whispered with awe. ‘I can hardly believe that she is real—she looks like a little doll.’
‘She is very like Rigo,’ Nicole agreed, missing her daughter intensely.
‘Ah, but she has hair like her mother.’ Amerigo smiled, taking her hand in his own. ‘You will make a beautiful bride, Nicole. And I wish you both great happiness.’
Nicole felt her throat tighten at the man’s words. He was nothing like she had imagined. Neither of them were. She shook her head as Renata made to return the picture. ‘No, please keep it. I have plenty more.’
As Amerigo moved away to go and greet his son Renata took her hand, gesturing for them to move to the side of the room together. Nicole waited for the disapproval, the scorn that she expected as the woman who had brought scandal on this ancient family. She was completely taken by surprise when Renata leaned forward and hugged her—a real embrace, unlike the formal one before. She relaxed her shoulders, feeling the warmth seep into her bones.
The older woman pulled back a fraction. ‘I’m sorry if I’m giving you mixed signals, my dear. But I wasn’t sure...’
What she had been about to say was drowned out by a familiar high-pitched voice. Nicole’s mother was making her way towards them across the hall. ‘I simply must introduce myself to the mother of the groom.’ Goldie fawned over Renata, laying an exaggerated kiss on each of her cheeks. ‘Isn’t this all just so heartbreakingly romantic?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Renata said demurely, taking a discreet look down at the photograph in her hand and smiling. ‘I’m looking forward to having them both in Tuscany once this has all died down. I can’t wait to get my hands on this little piccolina.’
Nicole saw the light die in Goldie’s eyes as they narrowed in on the photograph. ‘Oh, how delightful. May I see?’
Before Nicole could intervene, Goldie had reached out and grabbed it from Renata’s hands.
‘So nice of you to make plans with the grandparents, Nicole.’ Goldie’s lips pursed as she stared at Anna’s picture. ‘I’m not privileged enough to meet the little princess, you see,’ she said darkly.
‘Mum, why don’t we go outside?’ Nicole stepped forward, taking hold of her mother’s elbow gently.
Goldie shrugged her off. ‘I thought she’d have nice tanned skin, like her father,’ she mused, looking closely at the picture. ‘Thank goodness she didn’t get his nose, though.’
‘I’ll take that back, thank you.’ Renata reached out and plucked the photograph from Goldie’s hands just as Rigo appeared beside them.
‘Is everything all right here, ladies?’
‘Oh, here he is—the knight in shining armour,’ Goldie spat. ‘I’ve just had the privilege of meeting your mother, Signor Marchesi.’
She exaggerated the r’s with a roll of her tongue and Nicole suddenly realised her mother was roaring drunk.
‘Mum, perhaps you should go and drink some water,’ Nicole suggested weakly, seeing that her mother’s mood had shifted for the worse.
‘Oh, shut up, Nicole,’ Goldie said, pushing her hand away with vehemence. ‘Look at you—pretending to be all sweetness and sophistication.’