The Count's Blackmail Bargain Read Free

dubious talents with women to some useful purpose.’
    ‘Useful!’ He was almost choking on his rage. ‘Dio mio, how dare you insult me by suggesting such a thing? Imagine that I would be willing even for one moment…’ He flung away from her. Walked to the window, gazed down into the street below with unseeing eyes, then turned back, his face inimical. ‘No,’ he said. ‘And again—no. Never.’
    ‘You disappoint me,’ the Signora said almost blandly. ‘I hoped you would regard it as—an interesting challenge.’
    ‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘I am disgusted—nauseated by such a proposal.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And from you of all people.
    You—astound me.’
    She regarded him calmly. ‘What exactly are your objections?’
    He spread his hands in baffled fury. ‘Where shall I begin? The girl is a complete stranger to me.’
    ‘But so, at first, are all the women who share your bed.’ She paused. ‘For example, mio caro, how long have you known
    Vittoria Montecorvo, whose hasty departure just now I almost interrupted?’
    Their eyes met, locked in a long taut, silence. Eventually, he said,
    ‘I did not realise you took such a close interest in my personal life.’
    ‘Under normal circumstances, I would not, I assure you. But in this instance, I need your—co-operation.’
    Alessio said slowly, ‘At any moment, I am going to wake up, and find this is all a bad dream.’ He came back to his chair. Sat. ‘I have other objections. Do you wish to hear them?’
    ‘As you wish.’
    He leaned forward, the dark face intense. ‘This romance of Paolo’s may just be a passing fancy. Why not let it run its course?’
    ‘Because Federico Manzone wishes my son’s engagement to
    Beatrice to be made official. Any more delay would displease him.’
    ‘And would that be such a disaster?’
    ‘Yes,’ his aunt said. ‘It would. I have entered into certain—
    accommodations with Signor Manzone, on the strict understanding that this marriage would soon be taking place. Repayment would be—highly inconvenient.’
    ‘Santa Maria.’ Alessio slammed a clenched fist into the palm of his other hand. Of course, he thought. He should have guessed as much.
    The Signora’s late husband had come from an old but relatively impoverished family, but, in spite of that, her spending habits had always been legendary. He could remember stern family
    conferences on the subject when he was a boy.
    And age, it seemed, had not taught her discretion.
    Groaning inwardly, he said, ‘Then why not allow me to settle these debts for you, and let Paolo live his life?’
    There was a sudden gleam of humour in her still-handsome face. ‘I am not a welcome client at the bank, Alessio, so are you inviting me to become your private pensioner? Your poor father would turn in his grave. Besides, the lawyers would never allow it. And Federico has assured me very discreetly that, once our families are joined, he will make permanent arrangements for me. He is all generosity.’
    ‘Then why not change the plan?’ Alessio said with sudden inspiration. ‘You’re a widow. He’s a widower. Why don’t you marry him yourself, and let the next generation find their own way to happiness?’
    ‘As you yourself are doing?’ The acid was back. ‘Perhaps we could have a double wedding, mio caro. I am sure honour will demand you ask the lovely Vittoria to be your wife, when her husband divorces her for adultery. After all, it will make a hideous scandal.’
    Their glances met again and clashed, steel against steel.
    He said steadily, ‘I was not aware that Fabrizio had any such plans for Vittoria.’
    ‘Not yet, certainly,’ the Signora said silkily. ‘But if he or my good friend Camilla, his mother, should discover in some unfortunate way that you have planted horns on him, then that might change.’
    Eventually, Alessio sighed, lifting a shoulder in a resigned shrug.
    ‘I have seriously underestimated you, Zia Lucrezia. I did not