Dante's Unexpected Legacy(27)

                Dante nodded. ‘And drive yourself home afterwards so you can leave when you wish?’

                ‘Exactly.’

                ‘I shall return at seven-thirty—and not a minute sooner. D’accordo?’

                Rose nodded. ‘I’ll be ready.’ She opened her front door and smiled when she saw the sleek hire car. ‘Nice wheels again, Dante.’

                ‘Not as nice as my own, though,’ he said with regret and returned the smile, his eyes warm again. ‘I look forward to our evening, Rose. Ciao.’

                ‘Ciao,’ she echoed as he drove off, and shook her head. Her efforts to keep her life private had been a total waste of time.

                Rose hurried upstairs to shower and give herself a makeover. She couldn’t compete with Dante’s faithless Elsa, but she could look pretty good when she made the effort. When she was ready she eyed her reflection critically and took heart in the fact that even in the clinging caramel jersey of her Christmas present dress her baby bulge was hardly noticeable now, due to constant boring exercises.

                She went downstairs, wondering why she was doing this. After the delight Dante had taken in Bea earlier, she should have sent him packing right then to avoid any future danger. But she’d silenced her head and given in to the heart which urged her to make the most of an opportunity that would probably never happen again.

                When she opened the door to Dante later the heated look he gave her was worth all her hard work. ‘Rose, you are ravishing!’

                ‘Thank you, kind sir. You look pretty good yourself. Nice threads.’

                ‘Cosa?’

                ‘Great suit.’

                ‘Grazie. I like your dress also.’

                ‘Thank you.’

                Rose had expected Dante to treat her to dinner at the Chesterton, the best hotel in town, but she stiffened as she realised he was driving out into the country to a venue they eventually approached down a long tree-lined drive. The Hermitage was so well-known for luxurious comfort combined with the warmth of a family-owned hotel that Charlotte had chosen it for her wedding.

                Before Rose could ask why Dante had brought her there, a large, vaguely familiar man came out to greet them, hand outstretched to clap Dante on the shoulder.

                ‘Introduce me, then.’

                ‘This lovely lady is Miss Rose Palmer, Tony.’ Dante turned to Rose. ‘Rose, allow me to present my cousin, Anthony Mostyn, owner of the Hermitage—also of the Chesterton in town.’

                Rose smiled as Tony Mostyn shook her hand. ‘How do you do?’

                ‘A pleasure to meet you, Miss Palmer. A shame my wife’s taken the children to her mother’s for a couple of days. We could have made a foursome for dinner.’

                ‘Give Allegra a kiss from me and tell her we look forward to seeing her next time. What is good on the menu tonight, Tony?’ asked Dante.

                ‘Everything,’ said Tony promptly, ‘including your usual choice. So enjoy the meal. I’ll catch up with you later.’

                ‘What is wrong, Rose?’ asked Dante when they were seated in the bar.

                ‘This is where we met at Charlotte’s wedding,’ she said tonelessly, and looked him in the eye. ‘I remember seeing Tony Mostyn at the time, and thinking he looked young to run the Hermitage. You didn’t tell me you were related.’