The Doctor and the Debutante. Anne Fraser
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of her bag. ‘Can I see it?’ Before she could stop him he had reached in and plucked it out of bag. Resisting the impulse to grab it out of his hands, she nodded when he raised a questioning eyebrow.
Flushed with embarrassment, she waited while he flicked through her drawings. With a bit of luck he wouldn’t recognise himself. It wasn’t as if her sketch bore much relation to the real thing. It wasn’t much good and it certainly didn’t do credit to the real man.
But when he paused at the last page and grinned she knew her hopes had been in vain.
‘I didn’t know I looked like that,’ he said seriously, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.
Double damn. She peered over her shoulder. Her sketch was out of proportion, the figure listing to one side. Never mind. It wasn’t as if she wanted to make a career as an artist.
‘You don’t. You’re much better…’ Just in time, Alice bit back the rest of the words. ‘I mean I’m not very good at drawing,’ she said. ‘It’s only a hobby.’ She took the pad from him and replaced it in her bag.
‘What is it you do when you are not drawing?’ he asked her.
Now there was the rub. She was reluctant to tell him that she acted as a social secretary for her father, his hostess whenever he was between girlfriends, that apart from her studies she didn’t actually do anything except run Granville House and attend lunches and dinners. Not that any of that was easy. Moreover, she had promised herself that she would be plain Alice while she was here and she saw no need to tell this stranger who she really was.
‘I’m a student in London. Studying History of Art.’ That much she could tell him.
‘Then you are a visitor in my city. You like it so far?’ He smiled at her and her heart did a little somersault.
‘I love it. It’s so beautiful. The history, the art—’ she wasn’t going to mention the pastry shops ‘—the lifestyle. I can tell you after a pretty miserable, wet summer in England it is heaven to feel the sun.’
Dante’s eyebrows shot up and her heart did another flip-flop. She needed to get control of herself. It must be the Tuscan sun that was affecting her.
‘What did you see?’
‘Everything in the tourist guide. The Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi, the church of Santa Maria Novella. I’ve walked until my feet ache.’
‘What is this History of Art that you are studying?’ He crossed his long legs in front of him and settled back against his seat.
‘Oh, you kind of learn about the history of art.’ She flushed again. Talk about stating the obvious. But this man was addling her brain and making her tongue-tied. ‘I mean it’s learning about artists—like Michelangelo, for example, how he became a sculptor, all the art he did and why that’s considered important.’
There was a pause and Dante frowned. ‘What do you do with this degree when you are finished studying?’
Good question and not one that she wanted to answer. People in her position weren’t expected to do proper jobs. Modelling was okay, as long as it wasn’t glamour, so was PR, as was fundraising. Even these were considered to be ways of passing the time until marriage and children came along. Her role was to run her father’s house and carry out all the duties and responsibilities that went with her title.
She realised Dante was still waiting for an answer to his question.
‘Actually, when I was a little girl I dreamt of becoming a teacher.’
‘So, why didn’t you?’
Why hadn’t she? Because she’d always known that her life had been mapped out in an entirely different direction. One over which she had no control.
‘It was just a childish dream. Nothing more.’
Brown eyes locked onto hers. ‘It is good to dream, no?’ He was studying her as if she puzzled him.
No, it wasn’t good to dream. Not for her. It only made real life more difficult.
‘We all have to live in the real world, don’t we?’ she replied lightly.
‘Have you been out to the country?’ Alice was relieved when he changed the subject.
She shook her head. She had been too absorbed sightseeing and exploring all the touristy attractions Florence had to offer to venture further afield.
‘If you have not been in the countryside, then you have not seen Tuscany properly. Maybe I will show you.’
Alice wiped the palms of her hands on her trousers. He was only being polite. He would probably forget about her the moment he left her.
‘You said you live in the mountains,’ she asked. ‘But you work in Florence?’
Again that expressive shrug of the shoulders. ‘I work here, at this hospital, but my home is about forty-five kilometres that way, near where Sofia lives.’ He gestured behind him. ‘How long do you have left here in Tuscany?’ he continued.
‘Another week. I’ll be sorry to leave.’
‘You are staying in Florence?’
Alice nodded. ‘A friend of my father’s has a home here. He’s happy for me to use it while I’m visiting.’
‘You are here on your own?’ Dante seemed a little shocked.
‘Yes, but I don’t mind. In fact I kind of like it.’
Dante looked disbelieving.
‘Would you like to meet me in the Piazza della Signoria tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘You can’t leave without seeing the real Tuscany and I would like to show you more of my country.’
Alice shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. Part of her wanted to spend more time with him. Another part knew it was a crazy idea. What could she and this man possibly have in common?
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
He looked at her with languid eyes. ‘I think it is a very good idea.’
One thing she could say about him, he didn’t give up easily.
‘I was in London once for a month and a family there looked after me,’ he said. ‘I would like to show the same hospitality to our visitors. To you. And you helped Sofia when you didn’t need to. You could have walked away like everyone else, but you didn’t.’
Alice flushed. Despite what she had just told herself, it was disappointing that he felt it was his duty to show her around.
Whatever his reasons, seeing him again was too risky. He was different from any man she had ever met and never before had a man made her pulse race the way Dante did. The last thing she was looking for was a holiday romance. She smiled. She was getting way ahead of herself. Someone like him was bound to have a girlfriend, although she’d already noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
The doors to the department opened and a distracted couple rushed in. Instinctively Alice knew these were Sofia’s parents, not least because the little girl was almost a carbon copy of her mother.
Dante jumped to his feet. ‘Please meet me there at three o’clock tomorrow, I am working until two,’ he told Alice as he went to intercept the distressed couple. After talking to them for a few moments, he led them towards the lift. Alice guessed he was taking them to see their little girl. Alice stared after his retreating back. The arrogance of the man! He hadn’t even waited to hear her reply.
Alice was a nervous wreck by the time three o’clock the next day came. She had braided her hair, noticing that over the last week the sun had lightened it to almost the colour of corn which in turn emphasised the unusually light green colour of her eyes. She had dressed simply, in a crisp white blouse and light trousers. Apart from a slick of pale lipstick