An Engagement Of Convenience. CATHERINE GEORGE

She’s new since I was last here.’

      And thank heaven for that, thought Harriet, as he ushered her into a room Rosa had described in such painstaking detail that the abundance of pictures, gilt-framed mirrors and carved furniture was reassuringly familiar. Making no attempt to hide her nerves, she sat down on a sofa upholstered in faded ruby velvet, desperate to get the meeting with the signora over with. Though if Leo hadn’t spotted the switch, she comforted herself, perhaps no one else would, either. Like Rosa, she had no telltale distinguishing marks. And to make Harriet word-perfect in her role, Rosa had brought dozens of photographs and letters to the Foster house, recounting every detail of her family she could think of as Harriet took reams of notes which she read over and over in bed every night until she knew them by heart.

      ‘How quiet you are,’ said Leo, giving her a leisurely scrutiny as he pulled up a chair. ‘You have changed with maturity, Rosa. You are thinner, also your hair curls.’

      ‘Clever hairdresser,’ she said, unruffled, prepared for this. ‘Do you approve?’

      Leo’s jaw tightened. ‘You know very well that you are beautiful, Rosa.’

      Harriet’s eyes fell before his cold, assessing gaze, then she looked up with a smile, thanking Silvia as the woman came in to set down a large tray with coffee and tiny sweet biscuits, before rushing off to rejoin the women preparing tomorrow’s feast in the kitchen.

      ‘I had forgotten that faint, charming accent, Rosa,’ he said, watching her as she poured.

      Rosa had told Harriet Leo liked his coffee black, but she looked him in the eye and offered him cream. ‘Since I was banished I haven’t needed Italian much. Though it comes in useful in my job.’ Which, was entirely true.

      ‘So you have forgotten I like my coffee black and sweet,’ commented Leo. A black eyebrow arched. ‘What else have you forgotten, Rosa?’

      ‘As much as I possibly could,’ she said tartly. ‘Will you have a biscuit?’

      Leo shook his head, and leaned back, watching her through the steam from his cup. ‘So. How do you like working at the Hermitage?’

      ‘More than I expected to when I started,’ said Harriet, quoting Rosa.

      His eyes held hers relentlessly. ‘You had different ambitions once.’

      ‘Modelling, you mean.’ Harriet shrugged. ‘Just teenage daydreams. I’ve recovered from those. Every last one of them,’ she added deliberately.

      ‘Have you, indeed?’ The black-lashed eyes narrowed. ‘You were beautiful enough for modelling. Even more so now time has wrought certain changes,’ he added, eyeing her up and down with a look which seemed to register everything from the exact shade of her lipstick to the size of her shoes.

      Harriet turned away to refill her coffee cup, wishing Leo Fortinari would remove his disturbing presence and take himself off to his famous vineyards, which she had learned were several kilometres away from the Villa Castiglione.

      ‘How are Mirella and Dante?’ she asked politely.

      ‘Dante is my right hand since my father’s retirement. Mirella, as you know, is married now. She is already expecting her first child.’ Leo leaned forward to replace his cup on the tray. ‘So is Tony’s wife, I hear.’

      Harriet nodded. ‘Any moment now, which is why they couldn’t come for Nonna’s birthday.’

      ‘I hope everything goes well for her. Mirella, thankfully, is in the best of health.’ His eyes narrowed to a taunting gleam. ‘You did not come to her wedding.’

      He was baiting her, thought Harriet angrily. ‘For obvious reasons,’ she retorted, staring him down.

      ‘You mean you were afraid to come?’

      She shrugged. ‘If you like.’

      ‘Would you have come if Nonna had invited you personally before this?’ he asked, leaning nearer. ‘Or were you afraid of meeting old friends?’

      ‘Stop bullying the child,’ said a voice from the doorway.

      Leo rose to his feet, and Harriet followed suit quickly, her heart in her throat. The woman advancing towards her was dressed in a dark blue linen suit of exquisite cut. Her once dark hair was streaked with white, but faultlessly arranged, her face skilfully made up and she wore her years with grace and panache. Harriet gazed at her mutely, fighting to control her panic, then Vittoria Fortinari held out her arms, her huge eyes glittering with tears, and Harriet moved guiltily into her embrace.

      ‘Rosa,’ said the other woman unsteadily, holding Harriet at arms’ length. ‘How beautiful you are—’ She broke off to dab a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘But I must not cry. The make-up will melt.’ She smiled, looking so mischievous Harriet smiled back involuntarily.

      Signora Fortinari drew Harriet down to sit beside her on the sofa, then smiled up at Leo, who was watching them with the intent, probing look Harriet was rapidly growing to dislike. ‘Thank you for bringing Rosa to me, Leo.’

      In response to such sweet, but definite dismissal Leo Fortinari bowed formally. ‘I see I have served my purpose, Nonna, so I shall go back to Fortino.’

      ‘Now I have offended you,’ observed his grandmother placidly. ‘Come back to dinner later, Leo,’ she added, to Harriet’s dismay.

      Leo, noting it, smiled sardonically. ‘If Rosa does not object, of course.’

      ‘I’d be delighted,’ Harriet lied.

      ‘Good,’ said Vittoria, smiling benignly. ‘Bring Dante with you, Leo. He will be eager to see Rosa again.’

      Harriet relaxed a little. Dante had been in California when Rosa had blotted her youthful copybook.

      ‘Whatever you wish, Nonna,’ said Leo, and raised his grandmother’s hand to his lips with practiced grace. ‘But I think you should be resting tonight, in preparation for tomorrow’s celebrations.’

      ‘But then, you are not always right, Leonardo,’ she said gently.

      Leo Fortinari acknowledged the hit with a raised hand, said his goodbyes in a way which encompassed Harriet without actually addressing her individually, and departed with the faintest hint of swagger in his retreat.

      ‘Now,’ said Signora Fortinari with satisfaction. ‘Tell me everything about yourself, my child—’

      ‘First, please let me make my apologies,’ said Harriet swiftly, following Rosa’s instructions. She took a deep breath. ‘Nonna, I know this is long overdue, but I’m desperately sorry for what happened.’

      ‘And I should have been more understanding—and forgiving,’ said Vittoria sombrely, and took Harriet’s hand. ‘Let us talk of it no more. You are here now, and that is all that matters. Pride is a terrible thing, Rosa, and I am guilty of it. I should have mended the rift with your father, and not allowed Leo to influence me so much. He was always so adamant that seeing you again would reopen old wounds and endanger my health. But he was wrong. Life is too short for such foolishness.’

      Harriet nodded soberly, thinking of Rosa’s parents.

      ‘Who should know better than you, child?’ For a moment Vittoria Fortinari looked every moment of her age, and more, then she straightened and summoned a smile. ‘Now tell me, Rosa, have you brought a beautiful dress to wear tomorrow night?’

      Harriet confessed to bringing more than one. Rosa had provided her with two stunning creations with mouth-watering labels, each of them worn only once.

      After bringing the signora up to date on Rosa Mostyn’s current life and job, taking care to omit any reference to Pascal Tavernier in the process, Harriet reported on the precarious health of Allegra Mostyn.

      ‘Tony is driving everyone mad, Allegra included, because he’s in such a state,’ said Harriet.

      ‘It