Gianfranco’s suite was in the west wing of the house, and was more like an apartment, but without a kitchen. One huge bedroom and a large dressing room, two bathrooms, a comfortable sitting room and another slightly smaller bedroom. Standing in the middle of the sitting room, Kelly looked around, her mood lifting as she surveyed the fire burning brightly in the fireplace. It felt warm and welcoming. She sighed with relief and dismissed the maid.
One wall was lined with shelves and books. Old trophies were scattered around and, reading the inscriptions, Kelly realised they were for sailing. A large leather sofa and two armchairs were placed around the fireplace, and in one corner stood a writing table, in another a huge state-of-the-art television…
The main bedroom was equally inviting, with a large oak four-poster double bed, Kelly thought as she strolled into the dressing room on her way to the bathroom.
The dressing room was lined with cupboards on two sides, various chests of drawers and an ornate dressing table; all the furniture was large, but with the high ceilings everything was in proportion.
Kelly opened a wardrobe door and smiled. Anna had unpacked for her, and her clothes were lined alongside some of Gianfranco’s. It was a comforting sight.
Two hours later, showered and changed into a soft blue wool skirt and matching blouse in blue and cream, Kelly curled up in a leather armchair and began to wonder where her husband had got to.
Getting up from the chair, she restlessly walked across to one of the elegant arched windows and looked out over the courtyard, the sweeping drive lined by Cypress trees, a beautifully tended Italian-style garden and, in the distance, the terracotta roofs of a village, all surrounded by mile upon mile of undulating cultivated land. She picked out row upon row of vines to one side, and vast olive groves.
A deep heartfelt sigh escaped her and she pressed her head against the cool glass of the window-pane. It was stupid, but true: she had not the nerve to go looking for her husband. The house was huge and her first impression on entering had been of gloom—the great hall, hung with ancient oil paintings of severe-looking men and women, a massive central staircase that ended with a galleried landing with numerous corridors off it.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. Kelly, my girl, you are a married, pregnant adult woman, not a stupid adolescent, she lectured herself sternly. There was nothing stopping her going to look for her husband, and she turned on her heel. She was halfway across the room when the door opened and Gianfranco walked in.
‘Sorry I was so long.’ He slanted her a brief smile. ‘But with everything that has happened I have neglected my work of late.’
‘Sorry if I am an inconvenience,’ nerves made her snap resentfully.
Collapsing on the sofa, Gianfranco held out a hand to her. ‘Come here, my sensuous little wife,’ he said softly, catching the flash of uncertainty she could not hide. ‘No need to feel neglected, but I do have to work.’
Seated in the curve of his arm, Kelly listened as he explained.
‘Apart from when I have to go to New York, I usually spend four days here over the weekend, when I attend to estate matters. The rest of the time I spend in my office in Rome. Obviously now I am a married man I will have to rethink my working practice, as I have no intention of leaving you alone more than I can help. I can easily work from here, and curtail my visits to Rome somewhat.’
‘Why bother? I could stay in Rome with you.’ She flashed him a brilliant smile; the thought of escaping his family for half of every week held great appeal.
‘No, don’t be ridiculous.’ He clasped her shoulders and turned her around to face him. ‘You need someone with you at all times in your condition.’ His lips turned up in a self-satisfied smile. ‘Me, and when I am not around Mamma and Olivia. The situation is ideal.’
Her mouth dropped open. He had to be kidding. But before she could protest he had planted a swift kiss on her lips and got to his feet.
‘I need a shower, carissima, and then…’ his dark eyes gleamed wickedly ‘…we can both have a rest before dinner.’
IT WAS Saturday night and the guests were due to arrive in twenty minutes.
‘What do you think, Anna?’ she asked the young girl.
‘Bellissima.’ Anna grinned. ‘Very elegant.’
‘Thank you.’ Kelly smiled back. The one good thing to come out of her first two weeks at the Casa Maldini was Anna. She was friendly, could speak a little English, and was eager to help. In fact, she had just spent half an hour doing Kelly’s hair in an elaborate twist on the crown of her head with a few loose tendrils to frame her face. She watched the girl depart, then nervously she glanced once more at her reflection in the mirror. She so wanted to make a good impression on Gianfranco’s friends.
The past two weeks had not been easy. She had expected some difficulty in adjusting to her husband’s lifestyle, but she had never expected to feel so lonely. Aldo woke them in the morning at seven with coffee. Ten minutes later Gianfranco, washed and dressed, left her lying in bed while he started work, and if she was lucky she saw him at lunch. But most days it was eight in the evening before he reappeared.
Only once had he taken her out. With supreme efficiency he had whisked her into Verona and opened a bank account for her. Then he had registered her with his doctor and waited while she had a scan. On returning to the house he had dismissed her with a brief smile and told her he would see her later. By ‘later’ he meant over a very formal dinner with his mother and Olivia, or in bed.
Her lips quirked in the briefest of smiles; at least in bed she had his full attention, but it was the only place, she wryly conceded.
She had made a disturbing discovery about her husband. ‘Count Gianfranco Maldini’ the businessman was a totally different male animal from the Gianni she had fallen in love with. He was a workaholic, and he was spoilt rotten. His mother and Olivia waited on him hand and foot, as did all the staff, as if he was the Master of the Universe, and he took their adoration as his due. Their attitude to Kelly was not so friendly, though she had tried telling herself she must be mistaken when she thought she understood Olivia’s sly comments in Italian. She had tried to convince herself she was being paranoid, but yesterday was a case in point.
Gianfranco had informed her in the morning that his mother and Olivia were going to take her shopping. When Kelly had asked him to go with her instead he had pleaded pressure of work, and then added, ‘Mamma knows the right places to shop for a woman in your condition, whereas I haven’t a clue.’
Sensitivity was obviously not his strong point. Kelly knew damn fine what he had meant. Probably the only clothes he had ever bought for women were of the designer variety from exclusive boutiques. Not maternity wear.
She’d been seething with resentment by the time she had returned from the shopping trip. Carmela and Olivia had overridden anything she had suggested with the comment that they knew best the acceptable way for pregnant women to dress in Italian society. Kelly had felt about two inches tall and shut up. Consequently she’d returned to the house with three of the most enormous dresses she’d ever clapped eyes on. However hard she tried, she could not convince herself Carmela and Olivia were looking after her best interests—in fact, quite the reverse.
She had said as much to Gianfranco, and he had gone all cold on her. He had told her she was jumping to ridiculous conclusions over a few misunderstood words, and then suggested it was her hormones playing up because of her pregnancy.
Walking out of the bedroom, Kelly knew she was pinning all her hopes on tonight; she wanted to fit in and make friends, but not at the loss of her pride and self-esteem. Which was why she was wearing the dress she had bought herself in England.
Taking a deep breath, she walked into the salon. Gianfranco