Sweet Revenge (6 page)

After wishing the child '
Bom dia,'
and receiving no reply but an insolent stare, Toni felt her temper rising. Controlling it with difficulty, she said: 'I wish you had told me you were going swimming, Francesca. I would like to have gone with you.'

Francesca stared at her. 'Why should you?'

Toni sighed. 'Well, why do you suppose? I like swimming. Is that answer enough for you?'

Francesca shrugged. 'Paul never gets up before noon when he's here, and my grandmother is the same. Maybe it would be as well if you acted likewise.'

Toni looked down at her coffee. 'Why are you so objectionable, Francesca?' she asked coolly.

Francesca was obviously taken aback. 'I don't know what you mean,' she said sulkily.

'Yes, you do. You know perfectly well what I mean. I would like to know, though, what have I done to deserve such treatment? Heavens, we only met yester- day!'

'You're Paul's fiancee,' said Francesca.

'So what! I know you don't like Paul, he told me so, but there's no reason for you to dislike me, surely?'

Francesca buttered a roll, and bit it thoughtfully. 'Why has Paul come here?' she asked.

Toni felt hot, but managed to control her blushes. She had no intention of allowing Francesca to see she had embarrassed her. 'To see his grandmother,' she replied.

Francesca snorted. 'Some hopes! Paul only comes here when he wants money. If you thought he came to see Avo you're more gullible than I thought!'

'Don't be impertinent,' said Toni, frowning. 'Even were anything of that sort true, which I am sure it's not, you're far too young to be making comments about it. It's nothing to do with you.' She finished her coffee. 'I think you're jealous, that's all. But why you should be jealous of me—'"

Francesca laughed. 'I'm not jealous of
you,'
she said, and the way she said it was in itself insolence.

Toni rose from the table, reaching for her cigarettes and lighting one. Francesca watched her.

'Papa won't approve of you wearing slacks,' she said, with some satisfaction.

Toni gave her an exasperated look. 'Really! Is that so? I'm positively quaking in my shoes!'

Francesca looked mutinous and returned her attention to her rolls and butter. Without waiting for her to finish Toni left the room. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she had no intention of allowing Senhorita Francesca della Maria Estrada to arouse her any longer. The hall offered a selection of doors and Toni chose one. A corridor led to yet another door, and feeling quite adventurous now, Toni followed it, feeling quite disappointed when it opened into the courtyard that they had driven into the previous afternoon. She had thought she might find something exciting. However, deciding she might as well explore as wait around for Paul to get up, she ventured forward. Obviously Francesca knew Paul's habits better than she did.

She spent the morning on the beach. Following the path she had seen Francesca take, she found the steps - hewn out of the cliff face which led down to the sandy cove. She rolled up her slacks and paddled, then searched for shells among the rocks as she had done as a child. The sun was warm on her shoulders, and the sense of well-being returned. Only Francesca's antagonism prevented her from feeling completely happy.

She returned in good time for lunch, carrying her sandals in her hand. Entering the courtyard, she was surprised to see a low grey limousine in the parking area. Visitors already? She entered the house by way of the small passage and emerged into the hall. Hearing sounds from the lounge, she walked towards its entrance, wondering if she could see Paul alone now. The lounge was a modern room in most respects, with a stereo-radiogram and a television set, as well as a small cocktail bar. But it was deserted apart from Eduardo, the manservant, who had attended them at dinner the previous evening. He was busy at the cocktail bar, mixing a drink, but as though aware of her presence, he turned, and said:
'Sim, senhorita?

Toni smiled and shook her head disappointedly. 'It was nothing, Eduardo,' she said. 'I was looking for Senhor Paul.'

'Com efeito, senhorita, senao porque?'
said a voice behind her.

Toni gasped and swung round to confront a man standing in the doorway, a tall dark man, with a thin livid scar marring the tanned flesh of his cheek. 'You!' she exclaimed, before she could prevent herself. It was the man who had almost knocked her down in Lisbon.

He gave a slight bow of recognition, but his eyes narrowed. 'Why are you here in my house?' he asked in a cool voice, speaking English now.

Toni swallowed hard. 'Your house?' she echoed faintly.

'Yes,
senhorita,
my house.'

'Then you are. . . .' Her voice trailed away.

'The Conde Raoul Felipe Vincente della Maria Estrada,
senhorita.'
He said the words with arrogant emphasis, and Toni shook her head nervously. This man, this tall, lean, arrogant Portuguese, was Paul's uncle, and Francesca's f ather! Dressed today in a cream lounge suit, his thick hair lying smoothly against his well-shaped head, he was equally as disturbing as that day in Lisbon, and for a few moments Toni found it difficult to gather her scattered wits. She thought back wildly, trying to remember whether she had revealed her name to him and then giving an involuntary shake of her head. Even so. . . .

'I repeat, why are you in my house?' he said, his voice cold.

Toni wondered hysterically for a moment whether he thought she had traced him in order to try and extract some kind of retribution from him for her near accident, but seeing the sombre expression on his face she thrust these thoughts aside.

'I — er - your nephew Paul brought me,' she stammered awkwardly.

'He did!' His expression hardened still further. 'Why?'

Toni was self-consciously aware of her bare feet, of her close-fitting slacks, which Francesca had said her father would not approve of, of her bare arms and tangled hair, and most of all of her own insignificance. Her five feet six inches had always seemed to place her on eye-level terms with the men of her acquaintance, but as the Conde della Maria Estrada was easily six feet in height, he seemed to tower over her like some avenging angel. In consequence, she felt immediately at a disadvantage.

'Paul - is - my fiance,' she said, at last.

The old manservant Eduardo gave a slight cough, and the Conde looked beyond Toni to the old man.
'Esta bem,
Eduardo?'

'Sim, senhor.'

'Muito obrigado,
Eduardo!'

The manservant, smiled, bowed, and withdrew, but when Toni would have followed him, the Conde said:

'A moment,
senhorita.'

Toni swallowed hard. Was she destined to face all these interviews with Paul's family alone? This was the second time due to her curiosity she had landed herself in a difficult situation.

'Yes,
senhor,'
she said resignedly, determinedly ignoring the shaky feeling he aroused in the pit of her stomach. She had never met anyone who remotely resembled this man, and until now she had thought she knew most everything there was to know about sexual attraction. Which was in itself ridiculous really. After all, the Conde was considerably older than she was, and from the slightly jaded expression he wore she thought not only in actual age but in experience, too. He was surveying her with a rather cynical glint in his dark eyes, and she moved uncomfortably, wishing he would stop looking at her. There was a kind of insolence about his gaze which was not unlike the kind of glances Francesca had given her. She felt her temper rising at this realization. What right had he to treat her so carelessly?

'Senhor
,' she said, breaking the uneasy silence which had fallen, 'will you please tell me what it is you have to say and let me go!'

'Patience,' replied the Conde sardonically, and turning away approached the cocktail bar where Eduardo had left a shaker full of liquid and a crystal glass waiting for him.

Toni contemplated ignoring him altogether and leaving the room, but that would be very rude, and she was not used to behaving in such a manner. On the other hand, she was not used to this kind of sustained battle of nerves, and she wished there was a chair nearby, for she was afraid her legs might not remain firm. She had already had one sample of the kind of anger the Conde possessed that day in Lisbon, and she had no wish to arouse him again, as much for her own sake as Paul's.

The Conde poured two drinks, extracting a glass from Below the serving surface. Then he added two squares of ice to each, and turning came across and handed one to Toni.

Then he passed her, closed the lounge door with a firm click, and came back to her. Toni did not touch her drink.

The Conde swallowed half of his, and then said: 'The drink is not to your liking,
senhorita?'

Toni compressed her lips for a moment. 'I don't drink at this hour of the day, Senhor Conde.'

He looked amused. 'Do you not,
senhorita
? Why?'

Toni was speechless. Why didn't she? Should she explain that in the social sphere she moved in drinks were not a natural accompaniment to living? Instead, she said: 'I do not drink very much at all, Senhor Conde.'

He smiled sarcastically. 'Then you are indeed unique in Paul's small circle of friends,' he said, shrugging his broad shoulders. Toni noticed the movement. Although his shoulders were broad, his hips were narrow, and there was not an ounce of spare flesh on his body. Her eyes were drawn to his scar, and she wondered how it came to be there, then flushed as she realized she was staring. 'Does this—' he flicked a hand at his scar —does this disturb you?' His eyes narrowed. 'I have grown so used to living with it I forget its appearance can offend people.'

Toni shook her head. 'No, it does not disturb me, Senhor Conde,' she replied, bending her head.

He seemed sceptical of her reply. In any event, he moved further away from her, turning so that side of his face was hidden. 'So,
senhorita
,' he went on, 'you are Paul's fiancee. That is very interesting. Can you then tell me what you were doing wandering alone about the streets of Lisbon, in apparent need of an escort?'

Toni flushed, again. 'Paul - Paul was - he was making arrangements for hiring the car to bring us here,' she finished quickly.

'I see.' He finished his drink, and crossing to the cocktail bar poured himself another. Then he faced her again. 'No doubt, as you are Paul's fiancee, you are aware of his reasons for bringing you here.'

Toni stiffened. 'What reasons,
senhor?'

'Come now, I do not believe Paul has not revealed his motives for coming here to you.

Toni bit her lip. 'Senhor Conde, it is almost lunch time and I wish to change before then. Surely this catechism should be addressed to Paul, not to myself.'

He felt in his pocket and produced a slim gold cigarette case. He extracted a cigarette without offering her one, and after it was lit, he said: 'On the contrary, I think it is necessary that I make the position clear to you.'

Toni, despite her nervousness, was longing for a cigarette, and was rapidly losing patience. 'What position?' She omitted to give him his title, and if he noticed it he made no demur.

'This,
senhorita,
' he said icily. 'That my mother is an old woman, with an old woman's fancies. At the moment, she is of the opinion that Paul is her - how shall I put it? - blue-eyed boy, that is the expression you use, is it not? But I control this estate, and my mother's finances, and I do not intend that she should throw money away on a lazy idiot such as Paul Craig!'

Toni's eyes were wide and indignant. Whatever Paul had done this uncle of his had no right to speak of him so contemptuously.

'What has this to do with me?' she asked angrily.

He gave a short mirthless laugh. 'Oh, really,
senhorita,
surely I do not have to tell you that! If your intention to marry my nephew has any basis on his expectations from his grandmother, then I am afraid you are going to be sadly disappointed!'

'How dare you!' Toni stared at him furiously. He was so cool and calm and assured, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

'Oh, you will find I dare a lot of things,' he replied indolently. 'Not least being the authority to call black black, and not a dirty shade of grey.'

Toni stepped forward, she had never felt so angry, or so impotent, and she longed to strike that sardonic expression from his lean face. She was on the point of raising her hand, when steel-hard fingers closed round her wrist, preventing the action before it was actually motivated. 'I think not,' he murmured, looking down at her with brilliantly mocking eyes.

'Papa!' The young voice was as unexpected as a cold shower, and as cooling. Immediately, Toni was free, rubbing her sore wrist where his hard fingers had hurt her, looking round at the puzzled, angry face of the girl who was standing just inside the door. 'Papa,' she said, more slowly, looking at Toni with blazing eyes, then continuing to speak in their own language so that Toni was completely excluded from the conversation.

With a muffled exclamation, Toni brushed past them, uncaring then of what Francesca might think, and with legs that were none too steady she ran up the stairs to the sanctuary of her room.

T
ONI
didn't know how she was going to summon up enough courage to go downstairs for lunch. Surveying herself later in her bedroom with her face flushed and stained with hot, angry tears and her hair an untidy mess, she found her indignation giving way to a trembling awareness of something that bordered on hatred that would listen to no defence. No wonder Paul had refrained from telling her his real reasons for bringing her to Estrada. How could he have revealed such a situation? She doubted whether Janet would have agreed to come had she known the truth.

She gave a heavy sigh. There was only one thing to do, of course. She must see Paul, it was imperative now, and explain that she wanted to leave immediately. She would not stay here to be insulted again by either the Conde or his daughter. This decision made, she felt a little better, and could not understand the faint feeling of regret she was experiencing at the knowledge she was soon to bid the
castelo
farewell. It could only be that she would not enjoy disappointing the old Condessa who had treated her so kindly.