Luca's mouth twisted as he listened, hooded eyes hard as stones as he followed her into the drawing room. 'Mr Wonderful... Mr Perfect’
'No...he does tend to tell the same horsy stories and jokes over and over again.'
Darcy was surprised that he had made no further com¬ment on the subject of Zia's paternity. Heavens, did he still think there had been other men in her life, then?
'And he's thicker than a block of wood...don't forget that minor imperfection,' Luca slotted in drily. 'But why didn't you tell him that you're married? Accidenti...so close a friend and he didn't even know I existed!'
'Tonight was the first time I'd seen him since our wed¬ding, but I didn't have time to talk to him because I had to go out. When did you arrive?'
'After six. I did not expect to arrive here and find another man in residence!'
Darcy blinked, and thought about the last enervating half-hour. Luca had behaved like a jealous, possessive hus¬band and instinctively she had reacted like a foolish and insecure new wife, eager to placate him. Luca, jealous? It was a stunning concept.
'Were you jealous when you thought Richard was my lover?' Darcy asked baldly.
Luca stilled and sent her a gleaming glance from below inky black lashes. 'I am naturally jealous of my dignity.'
'Your dignity?' Her hopeful face had fallen by a mile.
'Is it unreasonable for me to expect you to behave like a normal wife?' Luca countered levelly. 'In the light of your previous relationship with him, inviting Carlton to stay here alone with you was most unwise—'
'Unwise,' Darcy parroted, thinking what a bloodless, passionless word that was.
'As my wife, you are now in the public eye, and a po¬tential target for damaging gossip. Surely you can't want anyone to have cause to suspect at this early stage that there is anything seriously wrong with our marriage?'
Darcy slowly nodded. He wasn't jealous. He was just an arrogant, macho male, determined to preserve his own pub¬lic image. People might laugh if they suspected his wife was being unfaithful, and he wouldn't like that.
'By the way, I settled your mortgage,' Luca remarked with stupendous casualness.
Darcy's lower lip parted company with her upper in shock.
Brilliant dark eyes intent on her aghast expression, Luca continued smoothly, 'As you're so independent, I imagine you'll wish to repay me once you inherit your godmother's money, but in the short term you are no longer burdened by those substantial monthly payments.'
Darcy stumbled into speech. 'But, Luca... what right—?'
'I haven't finished yet. I have also had a word with your bank manager. There is no longer a limit on your overdraft. Don't throw it all back in my face,' he urged almost roughly, openly assessing her shaken, troubled face. 'I had no right to interfere, but I had a very powerful need to offer you what help I could.'
Still reeling, Darcy swallowed hard. She understood, oh, yes, she understood. Luca felt guilty. This was his way of making amends. His intervention on such grounds filled her with pained discomfiture, but she was in no position to refuse his efforts on behalf of the estate. He was making it possible for her to survive and re-employ the staff.
'Thanks,' she said stiltedly.
'I would have liked to do a great deal more, cara mia,'
Luca admitted steadily. 'But I knew you wouldn't have accepted that.'
At that respectful acknowledgement, a slow, uncertain smile drove the tension from her tense mouth. 'Did you park your wings outside?'
'My wings?'
'You'd make a really good guardian angel.'
'I was afraid you were about to say fairy godmother,' Luca confided.
'It did cross my mind.' Darcy wrinkled her nose and laughed for the first time in weeks. And then she remem¬bered what she still had to tell him and her face shadowed. Tomorrow, she decided, she would tell him tomorrow...
It was half past eight when the Victorian bell on the mas¬sive front door shrieked and jangled.
Luca was in the library, having excused himself to make some calls, and Darcy had gone upstairs to slide into an outfit that magically accentuated her every slender curve. Green, with a fashionably short skirt and fitted jacket. She thought it looked kind of sexy on her. She slid her feet into high heels and fiddled anxiously with her hair in the mirror. And the whole time she was engaged on that transformation she refused to think about why she was doing it.
When Darcy opened the door, out of breath from rushing full tilt down the stairs, her sensitive stomach somersaulted when she saw Margo and Nina standing outside. Her step¬mother elegant in black, and her stepsister dressed to kill in a sugar-pink dress so perilously short it made Darcy's skirt look like a maxi.
Both women did a rather exaggerated double take over her altered image.
'Is that a Galliano?' Nina demanded in an envious shriek.
'A...a what?' Darcy countered blankly.