Sara Craven Tribute Collection

Rocello was not a large town, but its central square, overlooked by a fine Gothic church, was an imposing one.

Flora arranged to meet the taciturn Roberto by the church in two hours, which would give her time to make her purchases and, hopefully, do a little sightseeing too.

Ninetta had been right about the shops, she soon discovered. There were some delectable boutiques hidden away among the winding side streets, and she soon found a dress she liked—one of her favourite slip styles, with narrow straps and a fluid drift of a skirt, in white, with a stylised flower in crystal beads on the bodice.

A few doors away she came upon a local silversmith, and bought a pair of pretty earrings for Mel, and an elegant chain with twisted links for Hes.

In a small gallery near the square there was a small framed painting of the castello, and, after some heart-searching, she decided to buy it. In the days ahead it might help convince her that this had not been all a fantastic dream, she thought wryly.

It was going to be a very hot day, and Flora was quite glad to seek shelter in the shadowy interior of the church, which was famous for its frescoes painted, it was said, by a pupil of Giotto.

But, even so, she still had some time to while away before her appointment with Roberto. She stationed herself under the striped awning of one of the pavement cafés opposite the church, so that she could spot him as soon as he arrived.

She ordered a cappuccino and sat nibbling some of the little almond biscuits that came with it, idly watching the tourists, who were milling around with their cameras.

‘Signorina Graham. I thought there could not be two women with that glorious shade of hair.’

Flora looked up in surprise to find Tonio Baressi smiling down at her.

‘Oh,’ she said slowly. ‘Good morning.’

He drew out the chair opposite with a flourish. ‘May I join you?’

‘You seem to have done so already, signore.’ Flora stole a surreptitious glance at her watch, hoping that Roberto might be early.

If Tonio noticed the tart note in her voice he gave no sign, merely signalling imperiously to the waiter.

‘So Marco has gone to Milan and left you to your own devices,’ he said, when his espresso arrived. He clicked his tongue. ‘But how unchivalrous.’

‘He has work to do,’ Flora said shortly. My first time in Rocello, she thought, and I have to run into him.

He laughed. ‘Whereas you are strictly for his leisure moments, eh? He is very fortunate to have found a woman so understanding of his—other obligations.’

Flora made a business of collecting together her packages. ‘You must excuse me,’ she said brightly. ‘I’d like to have a look inside the church before my driver comes.’

‘But surely I saw you coming out of the church a short while ago? You must find those frescoes particularly fascinating.’ He was still smiling, but his eyes had narrowed. ‘Or did Marco warn you to shun my company?’

‘Of course not. How ridiculous.’ She bit her lip in vexation, and a certain unease. How long had he been watching her, she wondered, and why?

‘I am relieved to hear it. Please—have another cappuccino. I insist.’

She thanked him with a forced smile and sat back, trying to look relaxed, while scanning the passing crowd for Roberto.

‘I hope you have enjoyed your stay at San Silvestro,’ Tonio went on after a pause. ‘It is unfortunate that all good things must end, no?’

She gave him a composed look. ‘Actually, I still have some holiday left.’

‘Yes, but it is hardly the same for you now that Marco has remembered his responsibilities to Altimazza. He can hardly be expected to commute to Milan on a daily basis. And the castello can be a lonely place.’

Her smile was taut. ‘Please don’t concern yourself about me, Signor Baressi. It really isn’t necessary.’

‘Call me Tonio, I beg. I assure you that I only wish to be your friend.’

‘Thank you.’ She reached for her bag and extracted enough money to pay for her own coffee. ‘That’s kind of you, but now I must be going.’

He said, almost idly, ‘If you are expecting Roberto, he has gone back to San Silvestro. I told him I would bring you back to the castello myself.’

Flora’s lips parted in a gasp of sheer outrage. ‘Then you had no right to do any such thing,’ she exclaimed heatedly. ‘And I prefer to make my own way back. I’ll find a taxi…’

His grin was unrepentant. ‘You fear I shall make advances to you?’ He shook his head. ‘I shall not. I offer friendship only. Something you may welcome before long,’ he added softly. ‘So let us have no more nonsense about taxis. It will be my pleasure to drive you.’

Flora lifted her chin. She said crisply, ‘In that case I’d like to leave straight away. Roberto is going to find himself in real trouble with Alfredo for deserting me like this. He could even be sacked.’

He shrugged. ‘He will easily find another job.’

Tonio also drove a sports car, but a considerably flashier example than the one Marco had used in London. He also considered himself a far better driver than he actually was, and Flora found herself cringing more than once.

When the coast road was suddenly abandoned, and they turned inland, she stiffened. ‘This isn’t the way to San Silvestro.’

‘A small detour.’ He was totally at ease. ‘To the other side of the headland. My aunt, the Contessa Baressi, has expressed a wish to meet you. I know you would not wish to disappoint her.’

She said curtly, ‘I would have preferred to be consulted in advance. And if Marco wishes me to know his godmother, then he’s quite capable of arranging it.’

‘Marco,’ he said, ‘is in Milan.’

‘Yes, but he’ll be back this evening. I can mention her invitation then…’

‘My aunt wishes to see you now,’ he said softly. ‘And her requests are invariably granted. Even by Marco.’ He paused. ‘The two families have always been very close. And he and the Contessa have a very special relationship.’

‘All the more reason,’ she said, ‘for him to be there.’

‘Unfortunately, the Contessa intends to return to Rome very shortly. She was anxious to make time for you before her departure.’

He turned the car through a stone gateway, following a wide curving driveway up to the house.

It was a large, formal structure, built of local stone over three storeys.

The grounds were neat and well-kept, and an ornate fountain played before the main entrance, but for Flora it lacked the wilder appeal of the castello. Or was that simply because she was there under a kind of duress?

She sat very straight in her seat as Tonio brought the car to a halt.

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Will you make some excuse to your aunt and take me back to San Silvestro?’

‘Impossible, mia cara. She does not take disappointment well.’

He came round and opened her door. His hand gripped her arm, his smile openly triumphant as he observed her pallor—her startled eyes.

He said softly, ‘Avanti. Let’s go.’