‘I find that predicting potential problems is the safest way to circumnavigate them.’
Francesca tried to feel angry but this philosophy was so typical of him that she was almost tempted to smile. What some would describe as controlling, Angelo would always describe as practical. Right now, he was behaving in the most practical way he could imagine, because in his head he was already predicting the possible consequences of acting in any other manner. And, like it or not, he was part Italian. The thought of his child being raised without his name would cause him severe problems. Francesca wondered why she hadn’t foreseen this dilemma but she had been so wrapped up in the enormity of trying to work out the suddenly altered logistics of her own life that she simply hadn’t paused to think ahead.
‘You don’t understand, Angelo. I can’t do the wife thing with you.’
‘I don’t believe I heard myself giving you a choice.’
‘Which doesn’t mean that you’re going to get your own way. I just…I just can’t marry you…whatever the situation. I’m sorry…’
‘What a noble little thing you are!’
Angelo and Francesca both looked around at precisely the same time and there she was, standing framed in the doorway, perky in a small, dove-grey suit with the requisite string of pearls and ivory clutch bag. Georgina was going for the cool, sophisticated look. Not a strand of hair was out of place.
‘Sorry to intrude, but the front door was open. I did knock…’ she strolled elegantly into the sitting room and then found a spot by the bay window, against which she proceeded to perch ‘…but no one heard. Obviously too absorbed…chatting.’
Angelo was the first to speak. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Georgina?’ His voice was perfectly modulated, politely interested even, but there was a thread of steel underlying it that sent a chill racing down Francesca’s spine. Georgina, who was casually glancing around the room, seemed oblivious to any threat. In fact, Francesca thought, she appeared utterly at ease and quite pleased with herself.
‘I did try calling you, Angelo—’ she looked at him sorrowfully ‘—but you didn’t see fit to return any of my calls, even though I did try to make it clear that I had something of importance to tell you.’
‘And, as I made perfectly clear to you when you did get through to me, I wasn’t interested in whatever you had to say.’
Georgina treated this with a tight, vindictive little smile. Neither of them had heard the front door opening and Francesca wondered how long the other woman had been in the house. Had she been standing by the sitting room door, listening to every word of the conversation?
‘Well, you should be because I can tell you why your little slapper can’t get too involved with you, whatever the situation.’ For the first time she directed her glance to Francesca, who was watching her warily. ‘Oh, dear. Pregnant.’ She shook her head ruefully. ‘Bit of a slip-up, Ellie. Or should I say, Francesca?’
‘How dare you come into my house and insult me?’ She half rose but Angelo was there before her, his face black as thunder. The feeling of events rushing upon him like a steamroller had intensified, but there was one event he intended to do something about.
‘Leave. Now.’
‘Or else?’ Georgina arched her eyebrows. ‘What will you do, break off our engagement? I believe you’ve already done that, Angelo.’
‘Oh, but there’s so much more that I could do, Georgina,’ he said conversationally. He strolled away from her, moving towards the back of Francesca’s chair and leaning forward on it, a gesture of intense protectiveness which Georgina didn’t fail to notice. Her mouth thinned into a hard, unattractive line but she was still looking at him as though his threats were empty. Francesca could have warned her that if she had any sense at all she would take him seriously. Against her will, she found herself liking the way he was protecting her, making sure that she wasn’t tossed to the wolf. It wouldn’t change anything but…it felt good.
‘Really, Angelo? Like what?’