‘Sarcasm does not become you. Do I detect a bit of frustration there? Missing me already?’ he drawled throatily.
‘Like a hole in the head,’ she snapped, and heard him chuckle.
‘No chance I would be given an opportunity to miss your smart mouth—you really know how to dent a man’s ego.’
‘Not yours, that’s for sure.’ Her pounding heart was telling her she was more disturbed by his flirtatious tone than she dared admit, but knowing it must be for his secretary’s benefit she said, ‘Cut the pretence and just tell me what you want. I am in the middle of lunch.’
‘Right.’ His voice was brusque. ‘I have arranged with an English agency for a Miss Carr who lives in Cornwall to help at the gallery. She will call in tomorrow afternoon at three to arrange the details with Elaine. Tell my mother I have back-to-back meetings all day and I’m staying in Verona tonight. I will be back tomorrow evening for the party. Can you do that?’
‘Yes. If that is all, I am going back to finish my lunch.’
Lorenzo was deliberately staying away—or he might even have another woman lined up for tonight, Lucy thought. As if she needed any more proof it was over between them!
‘Enjoy your meal,’ he said, and hung up.
Lucy relayed the conversation when she got back to the table. Anna did not look happy, but accepted the news with grace.
CHAPTER NINE
FOR some reason Lucy hadn’t been able to enjoy her lunch—in fact she’d hardly eaten anything. The doctor, noticing, had mentioned that Anna had told him Lucy had been sick that morning and enquired if she still felt unwell.
Unthinkingly Lucy had told him she thought it was the red wine, because she didn’t usually drink, and then added that she was not used to eating such rich food so late.
The doctor had agreed that might be true, but then mentioned the possibilities of gastro enteritis or food poisoning. Anna had looked mortified, and that was why Lucy was now lying on her bed, having submitted to numerous tests.
Lucy liked the elderly man, and at his enquiries had told the doctor about her medical history—including an operation she had undergone a few years earlier, which was one of the reasons she was careful what she ate and rarely drank, and probably why wine affected her so quickly. He had nodded his head and agreed with her.
Her lips twitched and parted in a grin, and she chuckled—then laughed out loud. She was the guest from hell … who had unwittingly implied her hostess had poisoned her. At least Lorenzo would be happy, because when Lucy left there was not the slightest fear of Anna wanting her to visit again.
On the contrary, Anna appeared to be quite happy when Lucy went back downstairs. Dinner was arranged for seven in Anna’s favourite garden room at the side of the house, where a small table was set for the two of them. The meal was light and delicious, and Anna confessed she usually ate there, only using the formal dining room when Lorenzo was home—which Lucy gathered was not very often.
Wednesday was chaotic. The huge house was a hive of activity as caterers, florists and extra staff bustled around the place.
The doctor came early—he was staying the night—and after lunch, when Anna had retired to her room to rest, told Lucy her blood tests were clear. It was probably, as she’d thought, the wine—or maybe the stress of visiting Lorenzo’s home and mother. He remembered when he’d met his late wife’s parents for the first time he’d been sick with nerves before he even got to their house.
Lucy tried to laugh, thanked him, and followed Anna upstairs.
She had a leisurely soak in the huge bath before washing her hair, and then, not feeling in the least tired, decided to go out into the garden and let her hair dry naturally in the fresh air, as she did at home. She pulled on jeans and a light blue sweater and, slipping her feet into soft ballet shoes, she stuck a comb in her pocket and left the house. There were so many people running around she would not be missed.
It was another sunny afternoon, with a slight breeze rustling the trees, and she wandered down the garden until the noise from the house faded away. Finally she stopped on one of the terraces. A circular fountain stood there, with water cascading down from a fifteen-feet-high centrepiece into a big pool, where koi carp in various shades of gold and yellow were swimming lazily around.
She sat down on a seat conveniently placed, and taking the comb from her pocket pulled it through her hair. It was half dry already. With a sigh she closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun. Bliss, she told herself. Just one more day and then no more Lorenzo. She would have her life back. But the pain in her heart told her she lied.