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The Venetian's Proposal

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Год написания книги
2018
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Nicola flushed painfully.

Watching her colour rise, he apologised. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made a remark like that.’

As lightly as possible, she said, ‘That’s all right. And it wasn’t really so bad. At least Jeff and I were together…’

Then, wistfully, ‘Though it would have been nice if we’d ever been able to move into a place of our own…’

‘So you never succeeded in getting away?’

She shook her head. ‘I’d managed to get an office job, but Jeff was unlucky. The company he’d joined made massive cutbacks, and he was one of the first to be made redundant, so we were still trying to save up when the accident happened.’

‘Earlier you mentioned that after the accident you went to live with your friend Sandy?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m surprised you didn’t remain at home.’

‘Our parents were killed in the same accident. The three of them were coming to pick me up from work when a lorry went out of control and hit them. We were all going on a family holiday.’

‘So you were left with no one.’

‘Sandy was very kind.’

‘How did you cope with your freedom?’

She looked up startled. ‘I suppose the answer’s not too well. Though I never thought of it as freedom… It just seemed more like loneliness. I missed Jeff so much…’

‘Having lived together for most of your lives, I suppose you were bound to. What was he like?’

‘Very much like you.’ She spoke without thinking.

The look in Dominic’s eyes was swiftly veiled, yet she felt certain that he was far from pleased by the comparison.

Coolly, he said, ‘Well, as you obviously loved him a great deal, I should feel flattered… Though I’m not convinced you know me well enough yet to compare us.’

‘I—I meant in looks,’ she stammered. ‘Like you, he was tall, dark, and handsome…’

‘A hackneyed phrase that can cover a multitude of sins,’ Dominic observed mockingly. ‘However, do go on.’

But as she described her late husband, visualising his face as she spoke and superimposing his features on the man sitting opposite, she knew her impression that they were alike was totally false.

The only similarity was the height and colouring.

Jeff had been over six foot, but compared to this man’s broad chest and mature width of shoulder he had been… The thought that came to mind was weedy…

Feeling dreadfully disloyal, she pushed it away.

Both had hair that was a true black and wanted to curl, but while this man’s was cut short and tamed Jeff’s had been a boyish riot of tight ringlets.

He had still been boyish in many ways, his hands big-knuckled and bony, as though he hadn’t yet grown into them, his face thin and sensitive-looking, with fine features and the air of a dreamer.

This man was anything but boyish. His hands were strong and well-shaped, with blunt fingers and neatly trimmed nails; his face was lean, with patrician features and an air of toughness and authority.

Jeff, by nature, had been kind and gentle and considerate.

Of Dominic’s nature she knew nothing.

Yet looking at him now, and recalling the way he had adjusted her stole, she felt oddly certain that, like a lot of powerful men, he might well be tender and protective.

She missed that. The tenderness. The caring.

Watching her face, noting the wistful expression, and misinterpreting it, Dominic said, ‘It’s about time we changed the subject. You’re starting to look sad, and talking about your husband can’t be easy.’

‘A short while ago, it wouldn’t have been possible,’ she admitted. ‘But I think I’m finally coming to terms with his loss.’

That was the truth. Tonight, though there had been tricky bits, on the whole it had been relatively painless to talk about Jeff.

There were so many happy memories, and he would always have a very special place in her heart. But, as though a heavy load had been lifted, she no longer felt that crippling weight of grief she had carried for the past three years.

Watching her expression, Dominic said gravely, ‘Welcome back to the world. What plans have you for the immediate future?’

‘Short-term, I shall stay in Venice for a month or so. Make this holiday a new beginning. You see, I…’

His grey eyes were fixed on her face, intent, waiting.

On the point of telling him about John and her reason for travelling to Venice, she hesitated. Then, deciding she had done more than enough soul-baring for one night, changed her mind. ‘I haven’t taken a holiday since I joined Westlake, so I decided it was time I took a break.’

Their waiter appeared to ask if they wanted anything further and, after consulting Nicola, Dominic ordered coffee with cream for her, espresso for himself, and two brandies.

It arrived quite quickly, accompanied by a silver filigree plate of chocolates.

When the waiter had moved away on silent feet, Dominic asked, ‘Have you ever been to Venice before?’

‘No, though I’ve always wanted to. I’ve often visualised the warmth and colour, the wonderful old buildings, water everywhere, and crowds of people…’

‘That about sums it up,’ he said with a smile. ‘Though the crowds are usually there only in the summer and at carnival time, and mostly in the touristy areas.’

‘Then you don’t find them a problem?’

‘Not personally. There are many parts of Venice that hardly ever see a tourist—quiet backwaters, picturesque or decaying, depending on your point of view, where the ordinary Venetians live.’

‘Have you lived there long?’

‘All my life, apart from three years at Oxford and a year spent travelling. As I said, my father was from the States, but my mother’s family have lived in Venice since the time of the Doges, when Italy was a great seafaring nation and one of the most prosperous settlements in Europe. Now, five hundred years past its heyday, Venice is still one of the most spectacular cities in the world.’

Noting that his voice held both enthusiasm and pride, she said, making it a statement rather than a question, ‘And you like living there.’

‘Yes, I do. For one thing it never becomes stale. There’s always so much atmosphere, whether it’s sunny, or rain-lashed, or there’s a fog rolling in off the Adriatic. And in the evening Piazza San Marco is the perfect place for lovers. Something about the ambience makes couples of all ages sit and hold hands…’
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