A Rumoured Engagement. CATHERINE GEORGE

and a bag of extravagant titbits collected from the nearby delicatessen. His key, handed to her over a romantic dinner days before, had been clutched in her hand like a talisman. Fizzing with anticipation, she’d let herself into the quiet, tidy flat, put down her suitcases and taken the bag of groceries into the immaculate kitchen.

      ‘I was so thrilled with the idea of a daily cleaner,’ she said derisively. ‘No more chores for me after a hectic day at the bank. Sometimes since,’ she said honestly, ‘I’ve wondered if Francis’s domestic arrangements weren’t a major part of the attraction of moving in with him.’

      ‘So what happened?’

      ‘The flat was very quiet. Where I live it’s a pretty busy area, with traffic noise and so on. But Francis’s place seemed insulated from all that. Zoë would love it—a doorman, views of the river from vast windows, modern furniture and rag-rolled walls. A lot different from my homely little attic.’

      She had taken her cases along the narrow hall and opened the door to the master bedroom, then stopped dead, her feet rooted to the floor. The curtains were drawn, but the light filtering through them was quite sufficient to see the two people in the bed. Deeply asleep, they were clutched close in each other’s arms in a tangle of naked limbs, the woman’s long blonde mane mingled with the man’s sweat-darkened hair, their bodies only partially covered by a rumpled sheet. A quilt and a couple of pillows were in a heap on the floor, and discarded clothes led in an explicit trail to the bed.

      ‘Have you ever had the kind of dream,’ asked Saskia conversationally, ‘where however much you want to run you can’t move?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Luke, looking grim.

      ‘I don’t suppose it was more than a second or two, but at last I managed to back out without waking them. I tiptoed back along the hall with my suitcases, collected my pathetic little bag of goodies and got myself out of there as fast as I could.’ She smiled bitterly. ‘The doorman looked rather surprised as I shot past him, but I didn’t slow down until I found a taxi, and made for Paddington Station and a train back to Oxford.’

      ‘Did you know the woman?’ asked Luke, after a pause.

      ‘Oh, yes. It was his ex-wife.’ Saskia thrust her hair back with an irritable gesture. ‘Not quite as “ex” as I thought, unfortunately. I knew he still saw Amanda from time to time. On business, he told me—things to sign, and all that. But that day it was flagrantly obvious their dealings were pleasure, not business.’ She let out a deep breath. ‘You know what really got to me, Luke?’

      ‘Tell me.’

      ‘The flat was so immaculate, so tidy. Not a newspaper or a dirty coffee cup or a used wineglass. Nothing. Yet the bedroom looked as though a bomb had hit it.’ She breathed in deeply. ‘The contrast was horribly vivid. They’d obviously rushed straight from the front door to the bedroom, too intent on having sex to stop for anything other than to draw the curtains.’

      ‘I think I’ll see to him whether you want me to or not,’ said Luke harshly. ‘What the hell was the idiot up to? Did he think he could have you and still indulge in the odd spot of auld lang syne with the ex-wife whenever the fancy took him?’

      ‘To be fair, the fancy obviously took them both simultaneously. I could tell from the way the clothes were discarded—’ Saskia swallowed hard, suddenly sorry she’d eaten so much at dinner.

      Luke reached out and grasped her hand tightly in silent comfort.

      She let out a deep breath. ‘What a fool I was. I really thought he cared for me. It was a big step on my part, actually moving in with Francis. But I think he’s still in love with Amanda. Otherwise.’

      ‘Otherwise?’

      Saskia’s face flushed with heat in the darkness. ‘Well—people usually separate after making love. Disentangle themselves and so on.’

      ‘Not necessarily.’

      She shrugged. ‘Anyway, even fast asleep Francis was still holding Amanda tightly, and she him. As though they couldn’t bear to let go of each other. It was that I couldn’t get out of my mind.’

      ‘Are you still in love with him?’ asked Luke neutrally.

      She shook her head. ‘No. Which is mortifying, in a way. I must be a very shallow sort of female. Or a very mistaken one. Whatever feelings I had for Francis didn’t survive that Friday afternoon in Romney Court. It’s odd. If I had seen them lunching somewhere, or even if Francis had come to me and told me what had happened—that for some reason his wife had needed comforting and one thing led to another, and so on, and it would never happen again—I would probably have been able to handle it. Because I hadn’t seen for myself.’ She shivered. ‘But I can’t forget the scene I walked in on. I’d never thought what “in flagrante” meant before, but that day it was brought home to me with a vengeance. I’m just grateful I didn’t arrive any earlier.’

      ‘Amen to that,’ Luke said dryly, and got up. ‘Come on, Sassy, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.’

      Saskia shivered slightly as she got to her feet. ‘A good thing your Tom Harley picked his grapes, then.’

      ‘A very good thing.’ Luke followed her along the hall with the tray, his eyes searching her face when they reached the brightly lit kitchen. ‘No tears?’

      She shook her head, smiling. ‘No. I’m not much one for tears, Luke. When I ran away from Francis that day I was swearing like a trooper, not crying.’

      ‘How did Marina react when you turned up in Oxford again?’

      ‘When I gave her an edited version of the scene in Francis’s bedroom she lost her temper in true Latin style, and wanted to storm up to London and inflict physical injury on him. My mother’s Italian half tends to dominate under certain circumstances.’

      Luke grinned. ‘I know.’

      ‘But that was just gut reaction.’ Saskia shrugged. ‘When she calmed down she became intensely practical, as always, and suggested I come here to lick my wounds, since I’d already arranged to be away from my job for a fortnight. Francis was going to take time off, too, you see, so we could enjoy playing house for a while.’ She breathed in deeply. ‘Sam was wonderful. He arranged a plane flight, bless him, and drove me to the airport. So here I am. Mending my broken heart at the Villa Rosa.’

      ‘Is it really broken?’

      ‘No.’ She managed a creditable little laugh. ‘Dented a bit, maybe, but not broken. And I’ve learned a very valuable lesson—no more falling in love.’

      Luke smiled a little. ‘Not until the next time, anyway.’

      ‘Something like that.’

      ‘Right then, Saskia,’ he said briskly. ‘No more moping alone here. Come with me tomorrow.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘I’ll drive you to San Gimignano, then you can browse round the town while I chase up some of the local wine. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll buy you lunch afterwards.’

      Saskia smiled. ‘Sounds good. Thanks; I’d like that.’

      Luke raised an eyebrow, as though he’d expected opposition. ‘Good. I’ll say goodnight, then, Sassy.’ He paused, looking down at her steadily. ‘I’m glad you told me.’

      ‘So am I.’ She hesitated. ‘And I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Zoë.’

      ‘Thank you. Though I feel it only fair to mention that my heart isn’t broken either.’

      ‘I didn’t think it was.’ She grinned. ‘It’s you who does the heartbreaking, from all I hear.’

      ‘Certainly not,’ he said virtuously. ‘I’m really a very nice, kind sort of chap.’

      ‘Oh, yeah?’ Laughing, Saskia went off to bed, feeling