Alessandro himself.
When they drove through a stone archway into a large flagged courtyard that contained an ornate fountain, Leonora saw not the medieval castle building she had been expecting but the elegant façade of a magnificent eighteenth-century palace. She could not stop herself from gasping in surprise.
It wasn’t Alessandro who responded to her astonishment but Falcon, turning round in his seat to smile at her and tell her, ‘One of our ancestors had the good sense to replace the original buildings. All that is actually left of the original castello are the outer walls and a couple of towers. Which reminds me, Sandro, I’ve told Maria to put you both in the West Tower Suite, to give you a bit of privacy. As you can imagine, the house is going to be packed to the rafters with guests, so I thought you’d be more comfortable there than in your old room.’
What did he mean, he’d put ‘them’ in the West Tower Suite? Leonora wondered in an apprehensive silence. She looked at Alessandro, but he wasn’t looking back in her direction, and now wasn’t the time to start asking Alessandro exactly what their sleeping arrangements were going to be, Leonora acknowledged.
As they climbed the steep marble steps leading to impressive double doors, Leonora realised that she was going to struggle to climb them elegantly in her unfamiliar high heels. Unexpectedly, as Alessandro hadn’t seemed to notice the anxious look she had given him in the car, he did seem to notice she was having trouble with the steps, because without saying anything he placed his hand beneath her elbow to steady and support her.
For a second the tomboy in her wanted to insist she could manage, but tomboys didn’t wear stilettos, and the truth was that she was glad of his help. The last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself by falling flat on her face. But climbing the steps so close together brought her thigh into contact with his, sending a frisson of something that quite definitely did not belong to her tomboy days sizzling through her body.
‘You’re the first to arrive,’ Falcon was saying. ‘Officially the cocktail party begins at seven, with dinner for the house guests at ten, but Father is planning to hold court at around six, although I want to keep that as low-key as possible, given his poor health.’
‘Is his heart as weak as we’ve all been told? Or is it just another of his ploys to make us all jump through hoops of his making?’
When Leonora heard the bitterness in Alessandro’s voice she instinctively started to move closer to him, in a mute gesture of comfort and support—and then abruptly stopped. Why on earth would Alessandro want comfort or support from her? And, even more to the point, why should she want to offer them?
To her relief he appeared not to have noticed her instinctive movement towards him, although his hand had slipped from her elbow along her back, and was now resting on her hip, which had brought her closer to him. But he had not so much as looked at her, his focus entirely on his brother.
‘His heart condition is real enough,’ Falcon was saying. ‘I would have preferred not to have risked worsening it with all this fuss, but he insisted, threatening that if I did not organise something then he would do so himself.’
‘And his word, of course, is law,’ Alessandro said cynically.
‘He is the head of our family and our name, and it is—as it has always been—our duty to respect the traditions and the responsibilities that go with being a Leopardi.’
‘You may respect him if you wish to do so, Falcon, but I never shall.’
‘I did not say that I respected him. What I said was that it is our duty to respect our responsibilities to our name. Not for our own sake, and certainly not for the sake of our father, but for the sake of our people. It is their traditions that we are honouring this weekend, not our father’s.’
They had reached the top of the steps now. Both men
When they drove through a stone archway into a large flagged courtyard that contained an ornate fountain, Leonora saw not the medieval castle building she had been expecting but the elegant façade of a magnificent eighteenth-century palace. She could not stop herself from gasping in surprise.
It wasn’t Alessandro who responded to her astonishment but Falcon, turning round in his seat to smile at her and tell her, ‘One of our ancestors had the good sense to replace the original buildings. All that is actually left of the original castello are the outer walls and a couple of towers. Which reminds me, Sandro, I’ve told Maria to put you both in the West Tower Suite, to give you a bit of privacy. As you can imagine, the house is going to be packed to the rafters with guests, so I thought you’d be more comfortable there than in your old room.’
What did he mean, he’d put ‘them’ in the West Tower Suite? Leonora wondered in an apprehensive silence. She looked at Alessandro, but he wasn’t looking back in her direction, and now wasn’t the time to start asking Alessandro exactly what their sleeping arrangements were going to be, Leonora acknowledged.
As they climbed the steep marble steps leading to impressive double doors, Leonora realised that she was going to struggle to climb them elegantly in her unfamiliar high heels. Unexpectedly, as Alessandro hadn’t seemed to notice the anxious look she had given him in the car, he did seem to notice she was having trouble with the steps, because without saying anything he placed his hand beneath her elbow to steady and support her.
For a second the tomboy in her wanted to insist she could manage, but tomboys didn’t wear stilettos, and the truth was that she was glad of his help. The last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself by falling flat on her face. But climbing the steps so close together brought her thigh into contact with his, sending a frisson of something that quite definitely did not belong to her tomboy days sizzling through her body.
‘You’re the first to arrive,’ Falcon was saying. ‘Officially the cocktail party begins at seven, with dinner for the house guests at ten, but Father is planning to hold court at around six, although I want to keep that as low-key as possible, given his poor health.’
‘Is his heart as weak as we’ve all been told? Or is it just another of his ploys to make us all jump through hoops of his making?’
When Leonora heard the bitterness in Alessandro’s voice she instinctively started to move closer to him, in a mute gesture of comfort and support—and then abruptly stopped. Why on earth would Alessandro want comfort or support from her? And, even more to the point, why should she want to offer them?
To her relief he appeared not to have noticed her instinctive movement towards him, although his hand had slipped from her elbow along her back, and was now resting on her hip, which had brought her closer to him. But he had not so much as looked at her, his focus entirely on his brother.
‘His heart condition is real enough,’ Falcon was saying. ‘I would have preferred not to have risked worsening it with all this fuss, but he insisted, threatening that if I did not organise something then he would do so himself.’
‘And his word, of course, is law,’ Alessandro said cynically.
‘He is the head of our family and our name, and it is—as it has always been—our duty to respect the traditions and the responsibilities that go with being a Leopardi.’
‘You may respect him if you wish to do so, Falcon, but I never shall.’
‘I did not say that I respected him. What I said was that it is our duty to respect our responsibilities to our name. Not for our own sake, and certainly not for the sake of our father, but for the sake of our people. It is their traditions that we are honouring this weekend, not our father’s.’
They had reached the top of the steps now. Both men
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