In The Italian's Bed. Anne Mather
is looking after the gallery while she’s away.’
‘Her sister?’
His mother was sceptical, and Rafe guessed she’d jumped to the same conclusion he had. ‘Her sister,’ he confirmed, flinging himself into a cane-backed chair and staring broodingly out across the gardens below the terrace. ‘Believe me, she is nothing like this woman Marco has got himself involved with.’
‘How do you know this?’ Lucia’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you said you wouldn’t recognise the woman if you saw her.’
‘I wouldn’t.’ Rafe realised he had been far too definite. ‘But Tess is a schoolteacher. And, believe me, she’s as much in the dark as we are. Ashley had given her some story about going home to care for her sick mother.’
‘Tess!’ Lucia scoffed. ‘What kind of a name is that?’
‘It’s Teresa,’ replied Rafe evenly, thanking the maid who had delivered his coffee. He turned back to his mother in some irritation. ‘We won’t get anywhere by picking fault with one of the few people who might be able to help us.’
‘How can this woman help us? You said yourself she doesn’t know where her sister is.’
‘Ashley may get in touch with her. If she wants Teresa to go on believing the story she’s given her, she may feel the need to embellish it in some way.’
Lucia’s mouth drew into a thin line. ‘It sounds to me as if this—this sister of the Daniels woman has made quite an impression on you, Raphael,’ she declared tersely. ‘Why do you believe her? What proof do you have that she’s telling you the truth?’
None at all! ‘Believe me, she was as shocked as we were,’ he responded stiffly. ‘You can’t blame her for what her sister’s done.’
‘And has she contacted her mother?’ Lucia was scathing. ‘Forgive me, I know I’m old-fashioned, but don’t English girls keep in touch with their own parents these days?’
‘Of course they do,’ retorted Rafe testily. ‘But Ashley’s mother isn’t her mother. Their father married twice. Teresa is the older sister.’
‘Che sorpresa!’ What a surprise! Lucia was sardonic. ‘People get married and divorced at the drop of a hat these days.’ She crossed herself before continuing. ‘Thank Jesu for the Holy Catholic church. At least most good Catholics take their vows seriously.’
Rafe knew that was directed at him but he chose not to rise to it. It wasn’t worth it. He contented himself with saying drily, ‘I understand Teresa’s mother is dead.’ Then, refusing to feel defensive, added, ‘In any case, as you’ll have guessed, Ashley wasn’t at her mother’s home. It seems she has told her sister a pack of lies.’
Lucia shook her head. ‘It sounds very suspicious to me.’
Rafe controlled his temper with an effort. ‘Well, I cannot help that,’ he said grimly.
‘But you must admit it is strange that this woman—this Teresa—doesn’t know where her sister is.’ She arched an aristocratic eyebrow. ‘Why on earth would she want to keep her whereabouts a secret from her?’
‘Because she knew her sister wouldn’t approve any more than we do?’ suggested Rafe tightly. ‘I don’t know, Mama. But I believe her and I think you should do the same.’
Lucia sniffed and Rafe thought how ridiculous this was, having to explain himself to his mother. Sometimes she behaved as if he were no older than Marco. He supposed it came of giving her free rein with the household after Gina walked out.
‘So what happens now?’ she inquired at last when it became obvious that Rafe was going to say no more. ‘Do I take it that unless the woman gets in touch with her sister, the information Verdicci gave you is our only lead?’
‘I will also speak to Maria,’ said Rafe. ‘She and Marco share most things and she may know where he’s gone. It’s a long shot and for the present we only know they disembarked in Genova. I suspect the Daniels woman guessed we might check the airlines and buying tickets to Milano was meant to throw us off the scent.’
‘And knowing they might be in Genova helps us how?’
‘Well, obviously she didn’t know we were watching her. She has no reason to believe that we might question whether they completed their journey. Ergo, she will expect us to make inquiries in Milano. Inquiries which, as we now know, would have gained us nothing.’
‘Very well.’ Lucia accepted his reasoning. ‘But Genova is a big city. How do you propose to find them there?’
‘I’m hoping Ashley will have hired an automobile,’ replied Rafe, finishing his coffee and getting to his feet again. He paced somewhat restlessly across the terrazzo tiles, staring out at the distant vineyard, hazy in the morning sunshine. ‘Verdicci is checking the rental agencies at the airport. If she has used her own name, we will find them, never fear.’
‘And if she hasn’t?’
‘Car rental agencies need identification. If my guess is correct, she will have used her passport to confirm her identity. Either that or her work permit. In each case, she will have had to use her own name. She may even have had to give an address—a local address, I mean. Somewhere she plans to stay. Where they plan to stay.’
Lucia’s lips crumpled. ‘Oh, this is so terrible! Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Marco and that woman, together. It’s—appalling! Disgusting!’
‘Don’t exaggerate, Mama.’ Rafe could see she was building up to another hysterical outburst. His lips twisted. ‘For all I know, Marco may be more experienced than we thought. He must have something to have attracted the interest of a woman of her age.’
‘Don’t be offensive!’ Lucia gazed at him with horrified eyes. ‘How can you even say such things? Marco is just a child—’
‘He’s nearly seventeen, Mama.’ Rafe was impatient now. ‘He’s not a child. He’s a young man.’ He paused. ‘With a young man’s needs and—desires.’
Lucia’s spine stiffened and she pushed herself rigidly to her feet. ‘Very well,’ she said coldly. ‘I can see you are not prepared to discuss this sensibly so I might as well go. I should have expected this of you, of course. You’ve never taken a strong enough hand with that boy and now we’re all suffering the consequences.’
Rafe blew out a breath. ‘You’re not suffering anything, Mama. Except perhaps from a little jealousy. I know you’ve always thought the sun shone out of Marco’s—well, you’ve always favoured him over Maria. Perhaps you ought to wonder if you are in any way responsible for his apparent rebellion against parental authority.’
Lucia’s jaw dropped. ‘You can’t blame me?’
‘I’m not blaming anyone,’ retorted Rafe wearily. ‘You are. All I’m doing is defending myself.’
‘As you did when Gina decided she’d had enough of your indifference?’ declared his mother tersely, making for the door. ‘You’ve always neglected your family, Raphael. First your wife and now your son. With you, your work must always come first.’
‘Gina slept with my estate manager,’ said Rafe through his teeth, but Lucia was not deterred.
‘She was lonely, Raphael. She needed love and you didn’t give it to her. What did you expect?’
Trust? Loyalty? Rafe didn’t attempt to dispute her words, however. This was an old argument and one he had no intention of rekindling. Gina hadn’t wanted love, she’d wanted sex. Her affair with Guido Marchetta might have been the reason he’d divorced her, but it hadn’t been the first. He had never told his mother that and now was not the time to do so.
‘Look,’ he said, his tone neutral. ‘Let’s not get into blaming ourselves. Marco’s somewhere out there and I’m going to find