Chapter 3

• She also remembered the way Leo had looked so coldly down his arrogant nose at her that day, as if he suspected her of being responsible for Fiona’s stubborn refusal to back down. Not true, of course, but Astoria had known there was no point in even trying to defend herself against such prejudice.
• As Fiona and Axel’s wedding was due to take place next weekend it was obvious who had won that particular battle—and that was yet another thing Leo D’Alessandro would no doubt blame Astoria for!
• ‘I know that, and you know that, but my grandfather has never claimed to be a reasonable man,’ Astoria said.
• ‘But—’
• ‘Can we please not talk about this anymore today, Fiona?’ Astoria cut in. ‘I’ve thought of nothing else for the last week, and it just gives me a headache.’
• ‘I’m not surprised.’ Fiona frowned. ‘You should have talked to me about it before, Astoria,’ she admonished her friend. ‘I can’t believe your mother and father would really lose Wiverley Hall and the stables if you haven’t—’
• ‘Fiona, please! Can we talk about your wedding next week instead?’ Then Astoria shuddered as a thought occurred to her. ‘Has Leo arrived yet?’ she asked tentatively.
• Fiona, diverted by Astoria’s obvious aversion to seeing her brother again, shook her head. ‘I’ve never understood why you and Leo have never become friends.’
• ‘Probably because we are both of the opinion that the less we see of each other the better,’ Astoria retorted.
• ‘But you’re the two people I love most in the world—apart from Axel, of course—and I can feel the antagonism start to rise the moment the two of you are in the same room together!’ Fiona wailed.
• Leo D’Alessandro was thirty-seven now, to Astoria’s almost twenty-four, and the crush Astoria had once had on the arrogant Venetian had—as Fiona so rightly pointed out—developed into antagonism on both sides. Out of dislike and disapproval on Leo’s side—especially after Astoria’s brief marriage and divorce—and out of pure self-def on hers.
• She gave a dismissive shrug. ‘We just don’t like each other.’
• ‘But why don’t you?’ Fiona pressed, frustrated. ‘I know I’m his sister, but you have to admit that Leo is the epitome of “tall, dark, and handsome”, and he has such a dangerous sexual aura about him he should come with a public health warning. And you’re absolutely gorgeous—’
• ‘So you already said,’ Astoria teased. ‘None of which alters the fact that your brother makes me break out in a rash every time I see him, and that I seem to have the same effect on him.’
• ‘It’s a total mystery to me,’ Fiona continued. ‘Leo is usually so stiffly correct, so—so Venetian, that I simply don’t understand his behaviour whenever he’s around you.’
• Astoria chuckled softly. ‘One of life’s mysteries you’re just going to have to live with, I’m afraid.’ She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Now, I really will have to go; I have another appointment in town later this morning.’
• ‘But I haven’t told you about our plans for the honeymoon yet,’ Fiona protested.
• ‘And I would really rather you didn’t. Besides, I really don’t have any more time.’
• ‘Don’t forget we have the final fitting for your bridesmaid’s dress in the morning,’ her friend reminded her.
• ‘As if!’ Astoria slung her capacious bag over her shoulder. She was wearing her usual work clothes: fitted black trousers and, today, a cashmere sweater the same deep green as her eyes. ‘Although I doubt anyone will even notice what I’m wearing once you appear in that delectable froth of white lace.’
• ‘I have every intention of introducing you to all my eligible male cousins next Saturday, you know,’ Fiona promised.
• Astoria shook her head. ‘Introduce away, Fiona, but I can assure you I won’t fall for any of them.’ Especially if they were anything like the arrogantly forceful Leo D’Alessandro!
• ‘Maybe not at the wedding next weekend, but how about at my masquerade party here next summer?’
• Astoria knew that was part of the reason that Fiona had fallen in love with this particular house. Her friend had taken one look at the spacious garden with its numerous trees and shrubs and instantly decided that the following August she would throw a real Venetian masquerade party there. In fact, her friend was almost as excited about the party next summer as she was about her wedding next week!
• ‘Not then, either,’ Astoria said dryly.
• ‘But everyone falls in love during the Venetian Festival,’ her friend protested. ‘I remember my Aunt Carlotta telling me that she once spent the whole evening at one of the festivals flirting with her own husband—my Uncle Bartolomeo—without even realising it!’
• Astoria grinned. ‘I bet he was surprised!’
• ‘From the becoming blush on my aunt’s cheeks when she told me about it afterwards I would say they both were!’
• ‘Fiona!’ Astoria chided laughingly.
• ‘You’ll see at the party next year,’ her friend promised. ‘The festival is a way for everyone to misbehave without anyone needing to feel guilty about it.’
• ‘Even your brother?’ Astoria taunted.
• ‘Well…perhaps not Leo,’ Fiona conceded. ‘But the party is months away, Astoria, and if you haven’t solved the problem with your grandfather’s will by then, an evening of anonymity could be the answer.’
• ‘No, Fiona,’ Astoria said, easily able to guess what her friend was about to suggest, and having no intention of being seduced into the shrubbery by one of Fiona’s male cousins in order to become pregnant. ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking, and the answer is most definitely no,’ she repeated firmly.
• ‘But—’
• ‘No, Fiona.’
• ‘It was just an idea.’ Her friend shrugged ruefully.
• ‘Well, it was a lousy one—oh!’ Having intended making her way out of the house to her car in the driveway, Astoria instead found herself crashing painfully into something very hard and unyielding.
• A man’s chest, she realised, once the pain in her jarred chin had abated to a mild throb.