Marriage In Peril. Miranda Lee

bed that same night with his brother must have nearly killed him.’

      On the balcony above Brooke was reeling from shock after shock. Leo…her Leo, in love with Francesca? Her husband, once engaged to his brother’s wife? Francesca choosing Lorenzo over Leo?

      ‘Unfortunately,’ Sophia went on with another sigh, ‘Leonardo handled Francesca the wrong way back then, playing the gentleman with her. He thought respecting her virginity was the right thing to do. But he was wrong. Lorenzo, to my eternal dismay, had no respect for anything, or anyone. He simply took what he wanted, and silly, shy, naive Francesca was swept away by his decadent wickedness.’

      ‘You’re talking nonsense, woman! Lorenzo was not wicked, just weak in matters of the flesh. If he was truly wicked, he would not have married the girl. Yes, they did wrong, but they couldn’t help themselves. They fell madly in love at first sight. Lorenzo told me so himself. He was very sorry he hurt Leonardo, but Francesca obviously didn’t really love the boy. Lorenzo said she was only marrying his brother because he was kind, and she was so lonely after her father’s recent death. As soon as Leonardo understood that, any feelings he had for the girl died a natural death.’

      ‘If he no longer cared for Francesca,’ Sophia scorned, ‘then why did he run off to Australia? And why didn’t he return for his brother’s wedding?’

      ‘He didn’t run off to Australia. I sent him there! As for not returning for the wedding, give the man some leeway, woman. He has his pride. He did right to stay away.’

      ‘Perhaps so. But I don’t think he’s staying away now. With Lorenzo dead, Leonardo finally has the opportunity to have what he foolishly denied himself back then. Francesca, in his bed.’

      ‘I don’t believe a son of mine would dishonour the family name in this way.’

      ‘Why not?’ Sophia said, her voice becoming hard. ‘Your other son did. Often.’

      ‘Lorenzo may have strayed once or twice. But he was a handsome man, and women threw themselves at him in a shameless fashion. It’s unfortunate Francesca never had children. Children keep a man at home, and loyal. But let us talk of Lorenzo no more. The boy is dead. It is not right to speak badly of the dead. And you are wrong about Leonardo. Now, I want to hear no more about this matter.’

      ‘Turning a blind eye will not solve this situation, husband mine,’ Sophia said sternly.

      ‘If what you say is true, then turning a blind eye is the only answer,’ Giuseppe refuted. ‘If Leo is fool enough to be having an affair with Francesca, he’ll soon get her out of his system and realise there’s just as good to be had at home. If I’m any judge, I’d say better! Leonardo and his family fly back to Sydney in two more days. Be patient and say nothing. The problem will pass.’

      ‘Maybe you’re right. But two days can be a long time…’

      CHAPTER TWO

      SOMEHOW Brooke made her way back into the bedroom without alerting the couple on the terrace below, there to collapse onto the gold silk quilt. Both her hands lifted to cover her eyes, as though by blocking out the light she could somehow block out the horror of what she’d just heard.

      Leo, in love with Francesca! Leo, once engaged to his brother’s widow! Leo, not at the office, but spending time with his lost love…

      It seemed unbelievable, and yet it explained so much. The fact Leo had never actually said he loved her. Not ever! He’d used other endearments, other phrases. Adoration. Desire. Need. But never love.

      And then there was his oddly cold behaviour around Francesca. Not dislike or indifference, as she’d imagined. But the other side of love.

      Oh, God…

      The pain wasn’t just emotional. It was brutally physical. A vice clamped around her heart, pressing down till she simply couldn’t breathe!

      Gasping for air, Brooke struggled off the bed and into the bathroom, where she splashed some cold water over her face, then sucked in great gulps of oxygen before straightening. The distressed face staring back at her in the vanity mirror was hardly recognisable. Chalk-white, with huge, hurt blue eyes and an uncontrollably quivering chin. When tears blurred her vision her eyes dropped and her shoulders sagged. She had to clutch at the marble vanity-top to stop herself from sinking to the floor.

      Dear Lord, what was she going to do?

      Suddenly, and perversely, she wanted her mother.

      Yet her mother was the last person she could tell any of this to. She would just say, I told you so! in that scoffing, scornful way of hers.

      Brooke could not help thinking that it was almost five years since her mother had prophesied Leo would make her miserable. Next week was their fifth wedding anniversary. And she’d been right!

      Or had she?

      What if Giuseppe was right and Sophia was wrong? What if Leo wasn’t still in love with Francesca, let alone spending today—or any other day—with her? What if he didn’t give a damn about his brother’s wife, and hadn’t since she’d betrayed his love with his brother?

      Brooke’s heart clung to this desperate hope.

      It was possible, wasn’t it? Okay, so Leo hadn’t proclaimed his undying love for her. But in the five years she’d known him he’d never given a hint that he was unhappy, or pining for another woman. He’d always seemed very happy to come home to her every night, and very satisfied with their life together, especially their sex life.

      Till this last three weeks, that was, she conceded, with a sickening twist in her stomach. Leo hadn’t been himself in that department since coming home for Lorenzo’s funeral.

      She’d thought his unusual lack of desire was due to grief and exhaustion. Now, another more awful reason invaded her mind…

      Brooke groaned in despair.

      Francesca’s abrupt move back to Milan suddenly took on a more sinister meaning, as did Leo’s wholehearted approval of his sister-in-law’s decision. He’d wanted the opportunity to be alone with the woman he still loved and wanted, away from the prying eyes of his family, and well away from her, his wife.

      Francesca’s tears that day might not have been grief, but guilt.

      She was the type of female to feel guilty, Brooke thought bitterly, but not enough to say no to a determined man. If Leonardo declared his undying love for her, passionately insisting she give him what she’d once withheld, silly, wishy-washy Francesca would probably become as putty in his hands.

      Now Brooke’s eyes snapped up, and they were no longer quite so haunted-looking. They were angry. No, not just angry. Livid.

      Giuseppe might be able to turn a blind eye to his son’s adultery, but she could not! She would go and confront the pair of them. Right now! This very moment! Borrow Sophia’s car and drive into Milan to Francesca’s place.

      She knew the way. Leo had often taken her into Milan to shop during previous visits, as well as to his brother’s fancy apartment for those dinner parties. She herself had driven home on these occasions, forced to concentrate on the roads involved in a way you didn’t when you were a passenger.

      Leo liked to have a bottle of wine over dinner, and always gave her the keys at the end of such evenings. It was the only time he allowed her to drive when he was in the car, something which rankled Brooke but which she tolerated. As she’d tolerated Leo’s edict shortly after their marriage that he didn’t like her to drink much. He’d said it made her aggressive.

      ‘Like your mother,’ he’d added, when she’d been about to object.

      That thought had stopped the automatic protest bubbling up in her throat, after which she’d curtailed her drinking, restricting herself to just one glass or two. Not once during the last five years of their relationship had she ever told Leo it was his turn not to drink that evening, that she wanted to relax over a bottle of wine for