* * *
The period that followed was one of the most hectic of Rose’s life, but the soonest wedding date possible for everyone concerned was a month later, which made it still possible for Charlotte to come, but did not please Dante. ‘Tony Mostyn could not do it sooner, even for me! But this is good for you, Rose?’
‘Yes. It’s not long. Actually, I’m glad of time to get everything settled.’ Secretly, she would have preferred it sooner, with less time to worry about Dante’s motives for marrying her. But every time doubts crept in she thought of Bea, and how she had clung to her daddy as they parted. And as Rose had done since her child was born, she did what was best for Bea, which in this case was to get on with marrying Bea’s father.
‘Rose?’ said Dante in her ear, ‘are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ she said hastily.
‘I thought I’d lost you. I shall contact Tony right now to confirm and will ring you again later. Or will you be too tired?’
‘No. Ring me whatever time it is.’
He sighed. ‘Ah, Rose, I wish I was there with you. It is strange that I have survived for years without you, yet now the wait to have you both here with me is intolerable.’
Both. Rose yearned for Dante to long for her alone for once, and felt mortified because she did. ‘By the way, I’ve had some feelers about my business, but I’m going to wait for a while before putting the house up for sale.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘Perche? You feel the need of a sanctuary to run to if I do not make you happy?’
‘No. It’s just that the market is flat right now, so I’ll wait until things improve.’
Dante sounded unconvinced as he said goodbye. Rose wished she hadn’t mentioned the subject, and by the time he rang again later to report on his talk with Tony her headache was making her queasy.
‘All is arranged, cara,’ he told her. ‘Tony and Allegra are very happy for us.’
‘That’s good.’ Rose hesitated. ‘Dante, are you upset because I’m keeping the house?’
He laughed. ‘No, I am not. It is your house to do with as you wish. Now, let us talk of wedding dresses. Please allow me to pay for them, Rose.’
‘Thank you, but no, Dante. Mum insists on footing the bill for the bride—and the bridesmaid.’
* * *
When the wedding day finally came—though at one stage Rose had been convinced it never would—she felt a sense of déjà vu as she entered the Hermitage. But today she was the one holding Tom’s arm, and of the two strikingly handsome Italian men waiting for her, this time round Dante Fortinari was the bridegroom. Her bridegroom.
At first sight of the smiling faces turned towards her in the private room used for the ceremony, Rose’s heart filled with such mixed emotions she felt giddy and held on tightly to the small hand of the bridesmaid, who grew very excited when she spotted assorted cousins waving at her.
‘Look, Mummy,’ Bea said, waving back, then beamed. ‘And there’s Daddy with Uncle Fabio.’
Dante watched the progress of the bride and bridesmaid with pride blazing in his eyes. He received Rose from Tom with murmured thanks and kissed his daughter lovingly before Tom bore her off to sit with Grace and Charlotte.