'I called your local garage. They were keen to help. I'll see you downstairs for breakfast,' Luca concluded.
It was already after nine. Darcy hurried into the bathroom and looked in anguish at her reflection. Overnight her hair had exploded into dozens of babyish Titian curls. She ran her fingers through them and they all stood up on end. In despair, she tried to push them down again.
Ten minutes later, Darcy went downstairs, curls damped down, last night's dress crumpled, and the sensation of looking an absolute mess doing nothing for her confidence. She slunk over to the corner table where Luca was semi-concealed behind a newspaper, beautifully shaped dark im¬perious head bent, luxuriant black hair immaculate, not a single strand out of place.
Darcy sank down opposite, in no hurry to draw attention to herself. And then her attention fell on the photograph of the statuesque blonde adorning the front page of his news¬paper. 'Give me that paper!' she gasped. 'Please!'
Ebony brows knitting in incomprehension, Luca began lowering the paper, but Darcy reached over and snatched it from him without further ado, spreading the publication flat on the table to read the blurb that went with the picture.
'She's married already ...married!' Darcy groaned in ap¬palled disbelief. 'Page four...' she muttered, frantically leaf¬ing through the pages to reach the main story.
'Who has got married?'
'Maxie Kendall... one of Nancy's other god-daughters.'
"The lady has beaten you to the finishing line?' Luca enquired smoothly.
Darcy was too busy reading to reply. 'Angelos Petronides... oh, dear heaven would you look at that dirty great enormous mansion they're standing outside?' she de¬manded in stricken»appeal. 'Not only has she got herself a husband, he looks besotted, and he has to be loaded—'
'Angelos Petronides...yes...loaded,' Luca confirmed very drily.
'I feel ill!' Darcy confessed truthfully, thrusting the of¬fending newspaper away in disgust.
'Jealous... envious?'
Darcy turned shaken eyes of reproach on him. 'Oh, no... it's just... it's just everything always seems so easy for Maxie...she's incredibly beautiful! We were practically best friends until Richard fell in love with her. That's why we didn't get married,' she completed tightly.
After that dialogue, breakfast was a silent meal. Darcy was embarrassed by her outburst and insulted by his re¬sponse. Jealous? Envious? She thought about that as she drove them back to the Folly. No... Luca had got her com¬pletely wrong.
As her chief bridesmaid, Maxie had stayed at the Folly the week running up to that misfired wedding three years earlier. The glamorous model had accepted the bride¬groom's attention and admiration as her due, responding with flirtatious smiles and amusing repartee. Richard had been, quite simply, dazzled. And Darcy had been naively pleased that her friend and her fiance appeared to be getting on so well.
But on their wedding day Richard had turned to look at Darcy at the altar, only to confess in despair, 'I can't go through with this...'
The wedding party had adjourned to the vestry.
'I've fallen in love with Maxie,' Richard had admitted baldly, his shame and distress at having to make that ad¬mission unconcealed.
'What the hell are you talking about?' Maxie had de¬manded furiously. 'I don't even like you!'
Fierce anger had filled Darcy then. She could have borne that devastating change of heart better had Maxie returned Richard's feelings. Then, at least, there might have seemed some point to the whole ghastly mess. But Maxie's careless encouragement of male homage had done the damage. Both Darcy and Richard had been bitterly hurt and humiliated by the experience.
Darcy had long since forgiven Richard, indeed still re¬garded him as a dear friend. Yet she had not been half so generous to Maxie, she conceded now. She had awarded her former friend the lion's share of the blame. Only now did it occur to her that Maxie had been a thoughtless teen¬ager at the time, she herself only a year older. Perhaps, she reflected grudgingly, she had been unjust...
Face still and strained over her troubling reflections, for Darcy never liked to think that she had been less than fair, she climbed out of the Land Rover outside the Folly.
'Do you realise that you have not spoken a single word since breakfast?' Luca enquired without any expression at all.
Darcy tautened defensively. 'I was thinking about Richard.'
Dark colour slowly rose to accentuate the hard angles of Luca's slashing cheekbones, his lean, strong face tighten¬ing. He surveyed her from beneath dense inky black lashes, eyes broodingly dark and icy cold. Colliding unexpectedly with that chilling scrutiny, Darcy felt her stomach clench as if she had hit black ice. 'What's wrong?'
'What could possibly be wrong?'
'I don't know, but...' Darcy continued with a frown of uncertainty.