The Italian's Pregnant Mistress(30)

'There's no point laying into me, Angelo,' she said quietly. 'Now that  you know, I shall try and include you in our child's life. I understand  that you might want to help support him, or her, financially, but I just  want you to know upfront that I won't accept any money from you for  myself.'                       
       
           



       

Angelo gave an incredulous laugh and moved to one of the chairs, where  he promptly sat down, crossing his long legs. 'That's very generous of  you, Francesca. Sadly, it falls somewhat short of what I had in mind.'

'What did you have in mind?' Francesca asked faintly. She unconsciously placed one hand protectively on her stomach.

'Something a little more … shall we say, involved?'

'What do you mean by that?' Visions of him showing up every afternoon on  her doorstep flooded her mind. In the space of a few seconds she had a  blinding vision of him always being around, a stranger with whom she had  once shared a fleeting past, a stranger she would continually struggle  to fall out of love with. It would never work.

'I mean,' Angelo explained patiently but ruthlessly, 'I don't intend to  be sidelined into visitor mode. I didn't ask to be catapulted into  fatherhood but, now that that's the reality, I intend to deal with it.'

'Deal with it?' Francesca didn't like the sound of that. 'It's not a knotty work problem, Angelo!'

'No,' he agreed smoothly. 'But, like every other situation in life,  there is a solution and the solution I have in mind will be a permanent  one.'

'I won't let you take this baby away from me!' She stood up, trembling  with a mixture of apprehension and anger and immediately sat back down.  'You may have a lot of money but there's no court in this land that  would tear a mother apart from her child because of that!'

'Nor should there be. Do you really think that I would be monstrous  enough to suggest such a thing? I was raised in a very secure family  environment, both parents very active on the upbringing front. I would  never contemplate splitting a mother from her child to pursue fatherhood  on my own.'

'What then?'

'We will be married.'

Four words dropped into the silence like time bombs. Time, for a few  seconds, seemed to stand completely still and the colour drained from  her face. She shook her head slowly, in a daze.

This time, Angelo thought, sensing the sour whiff of refusal, there  would be no running out on him. He would marry her for the sake of his  child if he had to haul her up the aisle kicking and screaming. It  should have made him feel enraged and impotent at the situation thrust  upon him, but he found himself contentedly watching her squirm. Why was  that? He skirted over the business of trying to work that one out and  maintained his silence.

'That's a crazy suggestion.' Francesca tried a laugh which stalled in  her throat. 'People don't just get married because of a pregnancy. Not  in this day and age.'

'Maybe that's what's wrong with the world.' Angelo shrugged. 'However,  I'm not one of those people. I don't walk away from my responsibilities  in the hope that someone else will come along and pick up the pieces.'

'I wasn't asking you to run away from your responsibilities!' Francesca  cried. 'I already told you that you can have as much input as you like  into what goes on!' Already she could see the huge complications that  would arise from that, but none of those complications would rival the  ones raised by her marrying him.

'Not good enough,' Angelo pointed out patiently. 'What happens when you  find another man? Do I resign myself to sitting back in the shadows  while my child calls another man Daddy?'

'This is ludicrous! I haven't even had the baby yet and you're talking  about what might or might not happen in the years to come!'

'I find that predicting potential problems is the safest way to circumnavigate them.'

Francesca tried to feel angry but this philosophy was so typical of him  that she was almost tempted to smile. What some would describe as  controlling, Angelo would always describe as practical. Right now, he  was behaving in the most practical way he could imagine, because in his  head he was already predicting the possible consequences of acting in  any other manner. And, like it or not, he was part Italian. The thought  of his child being raised without his name would cause him severe  problems. Francesca wondered why she hadn't foreseen this dilemma but  she had been so wrapped up in the enormity of trying to work out the  suddenly altered logistics of her own life that she simply hadn't paused  to think ahead.

'You don't understand, Angelo. I can't do the wife thing with you.'

'I don't believe I heard myself giving you a choice.'

'Which doesn't mean that you're going to get your own way. I just … I just can't marry you … whatever the situation. I'm sorry … '                       
       
           



       

'What a noble little thing you are!'

Angelo and Francesca both looked around at precisely the same time and  there she was, standing framed in the doorway, perky in a small,  dove-grey suit with the requisite string of pearls and ivory clutch bag.  Georgina was going for the cool, sophisticated look. Not a strand of  hair was out of place.

'Sorry to intrude, but the front door was open. I did knock … ' she  strolled elegantly into the sitting room and then found a spot by the  bay window, against which she proceeded to perch ' … but no one heard.  Obviously too absorbed … chatting.'

Angelo was the first to speak. 'What the hell are you doing here,  Georgina?' His voice was perfectly modulated, politely interested even,  but there was a thread of steel underlying it that sent a chill racing  down Francesca's spine. Georgina, who was casually glancing around the  room, seemed oblivious to any threat. In fact, Francesca thought, she  appeared utterly at ease and quite pleased with herself.

'I did try calling you, Angelo-' she looked at him sorrowfully '-but you  didn't see fit to return any of my calls, even though I did try to make  it clear that I had something of importance to tell you.'

'And, as I made perfectly clear to you when you did get through to me, I wasn't interested in whatever you had to say.'

Georgina treated this with a tight, vindictive little smile. Neither of  them had heard the front door opening and Francesca wondered how long  the other woman had been in the house. Had she been standing by the  sitting room door, listening to every word of the conversation?

'Well, you should be because I can tell you why your little slapper  can't get too involved with you, whatever the situation.' For the first  time she directed her glance to Francesca, who was watching her warily.  'Oh, dear. Pregnant.' She shook her head ruefully. 'Bit of a slip-up,  Ellie. Or should I say, Francesca?'

'How dare you come into my house and insult me?' She half rose but  Angelo was there before her, his face black as thunder. The feeling of  events rushing upon him like a steamroller had intensified, but there  was one event he intended to do something about.

'Leave. Now.'

'Or else?' Georgina arched her eyebrows. 'What will you do, break off  our engagement? I believe you've already done that, Angelo.'

'Oh, but there's so much more that I could do, Georgina,' he said  conversationally. He strolled away from her, moving towards the back of  Francesca's chair and leaning forward on it, a gesture of intense  protectiveness which Georgina didn't fail to notice. Her mouth thinned  into a hard, unattractive line but she was still looking at him as  though his threats were empty. Francesca could have warned her that if  she had any sense at all she would take him seriously. Against her will,  she found herself liking the way he was protecting her, making sure  that she wasn't tossed to the wolf. It wouldn't change anything but … it  felt good.

'Really, Angelo? Like what?'

'Oh, friendships can be such fiendishly fickle things, especially among  the rich and beautiful in London. And how demeaning for you were word to  get around that you were finding it hard to cope with the misery of  rejection, that you were willing to creep around trying to make trouble  for me long after the event. You might even find yourself being  portrayed as somewhat unbalanced, and the whiff of emotional instability  is a major turn-off when it comes to friends, I would have said. No one  likes a stalker. '

Some of the confidence was draining away but Georgina still managed to  maintain eye contact with him, while Francesca watched in fascinated  silence.

'Stalker?' She dropped her eyes and when she next looked at Angelo it  was with contrition. Francesca had never seen such a rapid  transformation of facial expression. The woman could have been nominated  for an Oscar. 'How could you accuse me of that? Don't you know that I'm  only here because I really care about you? And don't want you to be  seen as a laughing stock?'