Dante's Unexpected Legacy(29)

                Rose sighed. ‘That won’t be any time soon.’

                ‘Because of your work?’

                ‘Partly, yes.’

                He eyed her questioningly. ‘If the expense is also a problem I would be happy—’

                ‘Certainly not!’ she said, so sharply people nearby looked round. ‘Sorry,’ muttered Rose, crimsoning. ‘But I can’t take money from you, Dante. I feel beholden enough already because you paid for so much in Florence.’

                ‘Is it so hard to accept things from me?’ he demanded in a fierce undertone. ‘I ask for nothing in return, if that is your fear.’

                ‘I know that.’ She bit her lip. ‘The thing is, Dante, ever since Bea was born I’ve tried very hard to live on what I earn from my business. I refuse hand outs, even from my mother. Though she paid for what I’m wearing today by calling it a Christmas present.’

                ‘She is a clever lady.’ Dante relaxed slightly. ‘Also I doubt that Charlotte keeps to such rules.’

                ‘No. She comes laden with presents every visit, including the suede jacket you gave to someone to put away.’

                ‘You cannot hurt your dearest friend by refusing her as you refuse me.’ Dante got up, holding out a hand to Rose as a waiter informed him their table was ready.

                She was thoughtful as she accompanied him to a small, intimate dining room very different from the large one used for Charlotte’s wedding breakfast. Had her refusal actually hurt Dante?

                The room was full, the atmosphere lively with the buzz of conversation, and though not as loud as at the trattoria in Santa Croce a great improvement on the hushed elegance of her first dinner in Florence.

                Dante nodded when Rose mentioned it. ‘I was surprised that Charlotte chose that particular hotel for your stay. You liked it there?’

                ‘I was a bit intimidated when I first walked through the doors. But at the time I was so worried about Charlotte—’ She halted, biting her lip.

                ‘Fabio told me why,’ Dante assured her quickly. ‘Charlotte suspected him of taking some other woman to New York on their wedding anniversary. Incredibile!’ He shook his head. ‘There are many men who do such things, of course, but Fabio Vilari, never. And now Charlotte is about to give him a child he is the happiest man alive. What will you drink, Rose?’

                ‘No more wine for me, thanks. I’ll have some lovely Welsh water.’

                ‘Because I will drive you home I will drink the same.’

                ‘If you send me back in a taxi you won’t have to.’

                Dante glared at her. ‘You think I would do that so I could drink another glass of wine?’

                ‘Just a thought,’ she murmured as they were served with miniature Welsh rarebits.

                From then on Rose made sure she was as good company as possible as they ate their appetisers and then watched, impressed, as a huge roast of beef was carved on a trolley at the table and perfect high-rise Yorkshire puddings served to them with locally grown vegetables.

                ‘Do you cook roast beef like this, Rose?’ asked Dante as they began eating.

                ‘I’ve never tried,’ she confessed. ‘Mum does it on Sundays sometimes, but usually goes for roast chicken, Bea’s favourite. At home I cook pasta a lot—and, of course, the inevitable fish fingers, which my daughter would eat every day if allowed.’