will-construe your actions?'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, obviously if he thinks you're a gold-digger, he's going to believe you're leaving because he's found you out. He probably expects you to do just that if you think there's not going to be any money after all.'
Toni ran a hand over her forehead impatiently. Of course, for once Paul had to be right. That was exactly what the arrogant Conde would think. After all, his reasons for informing her of his position were all gauged to produce just such a reaction. He wanted them to leave, particularly Paul, but if Paul had proved to have, too thick a skin then obviously the next thing to do was to antagonize his fiancee so badly that she refused to stay and left, more than likely taking the offending Paul with her.
She drew deeply on her cigarette, and Paul, sensing her changing attitude, pressed home his point. 'Do you want Uncle Raoul to get his own way?' he asked. 'I would have thought that anyone with the minutest amount of spunk would give anything for the chance to get back at him, not run and hide like a beaten cat!'
Toni studied the glowing tip of her cigarette, and then when it almost burned her fingers stubbed it out angrily. 'Why should I care what your sainted uncle thinks of me?' she exclaimed.
Paul laughed. 'I don't know. But you do, don't you?' He ran a tongue over his lips. 'Or is it Francesca? After all, if you leave here the laugh will certainly be on us, won't it?'
Toni heaved a sigh. 'I don't like deceiving your grandmother,' she insisted wearily.
'Well, that was the situation long before you left Lisbon,' he reminded her.
'I know, I know! I ought never to have come!'
'I would agree with that,' remarked Conde della Maria Estrada, walking lazily into the room, accompanied by a smirking Francesca.
Toni felt hot angry tears pricking her eyelids suddenly, and she brushed them away with a careless hand, ignoring them all, and walking across to the window. Was she indeed allowing Paul to seduce her into a position where it was impossible for her to retreat? She didn't know. All she did know was that the Conde aroused the strongest feelings inside her, primarily an impotent kind of fury, which longed for satisfaction. He was so cold and aloof, so arrogant and assured. A god on a pedestal, so far as Francesca was concerned. How Toni would love to rock that pedestal a little! It might be foolish pride, but she couldn't stand his indifference.
She swung round to face them all, her mind made up. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Senhor Conde,' she said smoothly, realizing anger would gain her nothing. 'But now that I am here, I intend to stay, so long as Paul wants to do so.' She moved across to Paul, and allowed him to place his arm familiarly across her shoulders. 'Isn't that so, darling?'
Paul looked down at her, half laughingly, half relieved, and nodded. 'If you say so, honey,' he murmured, and kissed the pink curve of her ear.
The rest of the day passed almost normally. After lunch Toni submitted to the Portuguese habit of siesta, and then in the cool of the later afternoon, she and Paul went out in the hired car, taking the coast road through some beautiful countryside. When they returned it was time to change for dinner, and to Toni's relief she found that the Conde was not present at the dinner table. But the old Condessa was there, and she said:
'I hope you will excuse my son, the Conde, senhorita, but he will not be dining with us this evening. He had an engagement with friends. ...' She smiled gently. 'But I understand from Francesca that you met him at lunch time. I was not present, I am afraid. There are days when I do not feel strong enough to get up so early.'
'I understand, Condessa,' said Toni, smiling in return.
Francesca, dressed this evening more formally in a blue velvet shift, gave a knowing, sneering grin. 'The Senhorita perhaps got a little more than she bargained for at lunchtime,' she said insolently.
The Condessa frowned. 'What is
'What do you mean?'
'Well, obviously if he thinks you're a gold-digger, he's going to believe you're leaving because he's found you out. He probably expects you to do just that if you think there's not going to be any money after all.'
Toni ran a hand over her forehead impatiently. Of course, for once Paul had to be right. That was exactly what the arrogant Conde would think. After all, his reasons for informing her of his position were all gauged to produce just such a reaction. He wanted them to leave, particularly Paul, but if Paul had proved to have, too thick a skin then obviously the next thing to do was to antagonize his fiancee so badly that she refused to stay and left, more than likely taking the offending Paul with her.
She drew deeply on her cigarette, and Paul, sensing her changing attitude, pressed home his point. 'Do you want Uncle Raoul to get his own way?' he asked. 'I would have thought that anyone with the minutest amount of spunk would give anything for the chance to get back at him, not run and hide like a beaten cat!'
Toni studied the glowing tip of her cigarette, and then when it almost burned her fingers stubbed it out angrily. 'Why should I care what your sainted uncle thinks of me?' she exclaimed.
Paul laughed. 'I don't know. But you do, don't you?' He ran a tongue over his lips. 'Or is it Francesca? After all, if you leave here the laugh will certainly be on us, won't it?'
Toni heaved a sigh. 'I don't like deceiving your grandmother,' she insisted wearily.
'Well, that was the situation long before you left Lisbon,' he reminded her.
'I know, I know! I ought never to have come!'
'I would agree with that,' remarked Conde della Maria Estrada, walking lazily into the room, accompanied by a smirking Francesca.
Toni felt hot angry tears pricking her eyelids suddenly, and she brushed them away with a careless hand, ignoring them all, and walking across to the window. Was she indeed allowing Paul to seduce her into a position where it was impossible for her to retreat? She didn't know. All she did know was that the Conde aroused the strongest feelings inside her, primarily an impotent kind of fury, which longed for satisfaction. He was so cold and aloof, so arrogant and assured. A god on a pedestal, so far as Francesca was concerned. How Toni would love to rock that pedestal a little! It might be foolish pride, but she couldn't stand his indifference.
She swung round to face them all, her mind made up. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Senhor Conde,' she said smoothly, realizing anger would gain her nothing. 'But now that I am here, I intend to stay, so long as Paul wants to do so.' She moved across to Paul, and allowed him to place his arm familiarly across her shoulders. 'Isn't that so, darling?'
Paul looked down at her, half laughingly, half relieved, and nodded. 'If you say so, honey,' he murmured, and kissed the pink curve of her ear.
The rest of the day passed almost normally. After lunch Toni submitted to the Portuguese habit of siesta, and then in the cool of the later afternoon, she and Paul went out in the hired car, taking the coast road through some beautiful countryside. When they returned it was time to change for dinner, and to Toni's relief she found that the Conde was not present at the dinner table. But the old Condessa was there, and she said:
'I hope you will excuse my son, the Conde, senhorita, but he will not be dining with us this evening. He had an engagement with friends. ...' She smiled gently. 'But I understand from Francesca that you met him at lunch time. I was not present, I am afraid. There are days when I do not feel strong enough to get up so early.'
'I understand, Condessa,' said Toni, smiling in return.
Francesca, dressed this evening more formally in a blue velvet shift, gave a knowing, sneering grin. 'The Senhorita perhaps got a little more than she bargained for at lunchtime,' she said insolently.
The Condessa frowned. 'What is
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