Wounds of Passion

He shrugged casually. ‘Frankly, I’ve never been highly sexed, myself; I suppose that’s why I haven’t married yet. I like women’s company, but I’ve always been too busy to look for a wife. But I’ll be forty soon, Patsy kept telling me to get married, and she thought you would be an ideal wife for me. She likes you; she felt you would fit in.’

It had never entered Antonia’s head that Patsy might have engineered her engagement. She felt a fool. She had even wondered if Patsy might resent her!

‘That was why I stayed on at the palazzo this summer—to get to know you,’ said Cy quietly. ‘I thought at first that Pasty was crazy, you were far too young—but Patsy pointed out that that made it easier for us to guide you, help you learn to run the palazzo, learn to fit into our lifestyle. I felt I could trust you not to cheat on me with other men, or embarrass me. I thought you would be happy with what I could offer you, the sort of life we would have together. I’m a man of set habits and a liking for a quiet life who only wants someone to share my life with, someone suitable. So if you are afraid I’ll be disappointed because you can’t offer me wild passion, you needn’t be. Sex seems to me to be a rather overrated part of life. I admit, I’d like a child—that’s my main reason for wanting to marry, in fact—but we needn’t rush it. There is plenty of time for that.’

Antonia couldn’t think how to answer him. Although he had never been quite so blunt about why he had proposed to her, he had been fairly honest, she had to admit. He had never claimed to be in love with her, had never tried to do more than kiss her lightly. She had told herself he was sensitive, caring. Now she realised he was totally indifferent to her, sexually.

He hadn’t tried to make love to her because he hadn’t wanted her! She was stunned as it dawned on her what her life would have been like if she’d married him. She had been so self-obsessed that she hadn’t actually listened to what Cy had told her in the past. She had heard without understanding, but now it was all very clear. Terribly clear.

Cy had actually chosen her because she was so withdrawn and emotionally muted. He wanted someone he could manipulate into becoming the sort of show wife he wanted—someone to run his homes, someone who knew all about art and antiques, could be trusted to look after the Devvon collections, someone who was well brought up and could be shown off to his friends, colleagues and clients, someone who was young enough to be totally obedient.

Even the fact that she had been scarred by that attack on the beach had made her a suitable wife for Cy, because it meant she wouldn’t make any emotional demands on him. She would never expect Cy to love her with any depth or real feeling. She wouldn’t want what Cy couldn’t give her.

He hadn’t wanted a real woman of flesh and blood at all. She had been worried about telling him she didn’t want to marry him after all; she had hated the idea of hurting his feelings. The irony of that stunned her. She couldn’t make him unhappy. Cy had never had any feelings for her except a vague kindness and distant affection. He would have made her unutterably miserable once she’d realised what a mistake she had made.

Quietly, she said, ‘I’m sorry, Cy. We both made a mistake, I’m afraid. I don’t think I would make the sort of wife you want.’ She slowly pulled off her ring and held it out.

Cy opened his hand and she dropped it into his palm. He stared down at the glittering diamond. ‘You haven’t explained why! Don’t you think you owe me some sort of explanation? What made you change your mind?’

She sighed. ‘It’s too complicated to explain. I changed my mind, that’s all. Please don’t make it hard, Cy. I do know what I’m doing. I’ll give up my job at the palazzo at once, and move out. I’m sure Patsy will have no trouble finding someone else to do it. Maybe the next girl will be more suitable for you than I am.’

Cy reddened. ‘That’s insulting; I don’t think I deserve that!’

She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you,’ she said quietly. ‘All I meant was that I hoped you’d find someone else. I’m sure you will if you want to; the world must be full of girls who would give their eye-teeth for what you’re offering. You have a lot to offer, I know that—you’re a kind man, and a generous one; any woman who married you would have a marvellous lifestyle, and Patsy is a darling. Someone else will grab you with both hands. It’s just that I finally realised I wanted something else. I like you, too, Cy, and I’m fond of you, but for me that isn’t enough.’

He stood up abruptly, walked over to the fountain, and put a hand into the flying spray, his back to Antonia. ?

??Patsy will be very disappointed—she was very happy over our engagement—but I think you should talk to her before you make any decision about giving up your job. She’s very pleased with the way you’ve been dealing with the cataloguing. I don’t think she’ll want to lose you. I shall fly back almost at once, so you needn’t be afraid of running into me at the palazzo. I suggest you stay on at least while Patsy is in Venice.’

Antonia didn’t know how to answer that. If Patsy was angry it would be impossible for her to stay, but she said at last, ‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow.’

‘Good,’ said Cy, turning back to face her, his cool mask back in place. ‘It would cause too much talk if I left the party straight away. We had better go back into the house and mingle with the other guests.’ He held out his hand with the ring still on the palm. ‘Please wear this just for tonight, Antonia. You can leave it at the palazzo tomorrow, but it would be embarrassing if someone here noticed you weren’t wearing it. It would require explanations and that would be tiresome.’

Her instinct was to refuse, but then she looked into his eyes and saw that he was afraid of more than embarrassment; Cy was a very formal man, with a strong sense of his own dignity and status, and he was afraid of being humiliated publicly, of everyone knowing that she had broken off their engagement, especially after he had flown all this way to see her.

Reluctantly she took the ring and slid it back on to her finger, repressing an instinctive shudder as she felt the cold metal closing round her flesh again.

Taking it off and giving it back to him had made her feel free; now she was trapped again.

‘Can I also ask you not to tell anyone our engagement is off until I’ve left for New York?’ Cy flatly asked, and she nodded.

‘I won’t.’

‘Not even your aunt and uncle?’ Cy insisted.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ she promised, and he gave a short sigh.

‘Thank you.’

The rest of the evening was a blur to Antonia. She and Cy went back into the little pink house, which by now was crammed with people talking, laughing, drinking and eating, the sound of their chatter even drowning the music playing on the stereo system. Cy got her a drink and started talking to a friend of Patsy Devvon; Antonia briefly stayed with them, then drifted off discreetly and found herself a spot in a corner, sipped her drink, nibbled party food, pretending to listen to one of Alex’s friends, smiling, trying to look happy, while all the time she was dying to get out of there, away from all these people, away from Cy and Patrick and the crazy confusion of her life.

People moved out into the garden later and Susan-Jane turned the stereo up, so that they could hear the tape of the latest pop music out there. People began dancing.

After a while Alex came back into the house. ‘I want to waltz,’ he said. ‘Let’s be old-fashioned and romantic, shall we? It is our last evening here.’ He changed the tape to one of swirling Strauss waltzes and drew Susan-Jane out into the garden, where some of the guests were laughingly making disgusted noises over the change of music.

‘We can’t dance to this!’ said a teenage daughter of one of Susan-Jane’s friends.

‘People have for years. Watch us! We’ll show you how!’ Alex said defiantly, beginning to dance with his wife.