Mistresses: The Italian's Inexperienced Mistress / Emerald Mistress. LYNNE GRAHAM
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ancestral mansion?’
A few minutes later she came to a halt a hundred yards from the large shell of the Regency house where her mother had been born. Its ruinous state had embittered Isabel Massey, who had never got over the conviction that fate had dealt her a very poor hand. In comparison, Gwenna regarded that part of her family’s history with rueful acceptance, for the truth was that her Massey ancestors had been hopeless social climbers who had never been able to afford to maintain the white elephant they had built.
‘What’s the inside like?’
‘A wreck. It had to be boarded up years ago for safety.’
‘This is only a flying visit,’ Angelo murmured on the walk back to the nursery. ‘I should mention that your father has been called to a meeting this afternoon.’
Gwenna tensed. ‘Am I allowed to ask what the meeting is about?’
‘The fact that he hasn’t given a truthful account of his property holdings.’
Her cheeks flamed, surprise and anger assailing her. ‘That’s an out-and-out lie!’
Angelo regarded her with impassive cool. ‘I don’t like people who waste my time.’
‘But Dad hasn’t been wasting your time and he hasn’t lied to you either!’ Her china-blue eyes sparking, Gwenna curled her hands into protective fists by her side. ‘You can’t assume he’s deceived you just because he made the mistake of helping himself to cash at Furnridge Leather.’
‘I’m not. Your father was told that he had to make a full disclosure of his assets.’
‘And he has done so.’
‘While carefully omitting details of the other London apartment he owns.’
‘He only has one, for goodness’ sake!’
‘He’s fortunate to own a second, as there is still a shortfall in the amount he has to repay.’
Gwenna sucked in a steadying breath. ‘You’ve got it wrong.’
‘I’m afraid not. My information about the second town property is from an impeccable source.’ Angelo watched the fraught look of sudden uncertainty and dismay tauten her fine bone structure. She could not hide her sorrow. He could have told her that her loyalty and affection were wasted on so undeserving a cause. Donald Hamilton had an unbroken record of lying, cheating and robbing those foolish enough to place their trust in him.
Worrying at her lower lip, Gwenna turned her head away because her eyes were stinging with tears. Like it or not, there was something horribly convincing about Angelo’s supreme confidence. ‘If you’re right, I really don’t know what to say.’
‘Our deal will still stand. Your father will sign over the agreed assets and we will draw a line below this matter.’
Gwenna swallowed convulsively. ‘In the circumstances that’s very generous of you.’
Angelo smiled. His smile would have chilled an iceberg. Events were moving exactly to plan. He was well aware that Donald Hamilton had committed at least one other offence, which would eventually surface. When it did, a court case and a custodial sentence would be a virtual certainty. By the time Angelo had finished, his quarry would have lost everything he valued.
‘My father is not a bad man, just a foolish one. I don’t know what’s got into him … maybe it’s some kind of mid-life crisis,’ Gwenna reasoned in desperation. ‘I honestly can’t explain why he’s done what he’s done, or why he seems to be acting like his own worst enemy right now. But I can tell you that he’s been an absolutely marvellous father to me. He’s done so much work in the community as well.’
Angelo found himself focusing on the sincere glow of conviction in her damp eyes. She was like a distress beacon radiating emotion. She was not putting on a show for his benefit. He was fascinated by the feelings she could not hide. His bed partners always had a hard glossy shell that matched his renowned self-containment. Full of ideals and optimism as she was, she was ridiculously vulnerable. In a few months’ time, possibly even sooner, she would be sadder and wiser. A faint stab of regret assailed him that that should be the case. Perturbed by that unwelcome jab of seeming sensitivity, he crushed it dead.
‘I’ve organised accommodation for you.’ Angelo turned to a subject of greater interest to him.
Gwenna froze, silky brown lashes screening her gaze to conceal her reaction to the sudden impact of that announcement. ‘What sort of accommodation and where?’
‘A penthouse in London … I like lofty spaces.’
‘I don’t … is there a garden? Piglet will need a garden,’ Gwenna told him tightly.
‘Piglet?’ Angelo queried.
‘My dog.’
‘I’ll pick up the bill for his stay in a pet hotel,’ Angelo imparted in a dry tone of dismissal.
‘No. He has to stay with me. He pines and refuses to eat when I’m not around,’ Gwenna responded with unhidden anxiety. ‘I know it might sound silly to someone who’s not sentimental about pets … but he’s a very emotional dog.’
Angelo settled his black gaze on the ugly little dog messily digging up the border behind her back. The dog with a foolish owner twisted round its short but crooked tail. No way was he prepared to share house-room even briefly with her pet. ‘He goes to the hotel. My staff will choose the very best available.’
‘But if I’m not there he won’t eat—’
‘Nonsense.’
‘It’s not nonsense—’
‘I’m not into animals indoors,’ Angelo pronounced with finality.
Gwenna breathed in very deep and reminded herself that it was two years since Piglet had starved himself to skin and bone while she was on holiday. The following year, Toby had helped her to get the little dog a pet passport so that he could travel with his mistress. But now it was very much to be hoped that he had got over such excessive reliance on her for his sense of security. She could feel her eyes prickling at the prospect of life without Piglet and would have died sooner than betray her weakness. Angelo Riccardi would be fed up with her within the space of a week, she told herself comfortingly. She would bore him to death.
‘Do I have any say about anything?’ she enquired flatly.
Angelo thought hard about that. If he had had a chain attached to her ankle, he would have been set on removing links to restrict her freedom even more. It was an unfamiliar attitude to a male accustomed to easy conquest and it annoyed him. ‘Your accommodation?’
Gwenna went for that assurance at speed because she saw no reason why she should be anything other than difficult. After all, she was in no hurry to fulfil the agreement he had enforced. ‘I want to live somewhere with a garden,’ she told him with complete truth. ‘I’ll go mad if I’m in the city and shut in between four walls.’
‘There’s a pool with a roof that rolls back.’
‘I want a garden … even a condemned man gets one last request.’
‘You’re not facing a firing squad.’ Angelo treated her to a fulminating appraisal. A garden? What the hell did she want with a garden? That was not a reasonable request. That would take more time to organise and waiting for her was killing him by inches. Ever since he had first seen her, a parade of disturbingly erotic images had kept up a constant assault on his concentration. He was tired of that mental invasion and unlikely ever to be a convert to the art of patience.
‘How soon will you come to me?’ Angelo prompted levelly.
Unnerved by that bold question, Gwenna made the mistake of looking directly at him. She clashed with stunning tawny eyes hot with hunger and her face flamed at what he let her see there. Her entire skin surface prickled and