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aunt organise everything, and wouldn’t be working today, so I didn’t come straight round to see you. I talked to Patsy for a while and had a peaceful hour in my room, bathed, changed, then rang your uncle, who promptly invited me to the party. I told him not to tell you I was coming; I wanted to surprise you.’

‘You did,’ she said, her smile quivering. ‘You shouldn’t have come all this way, Cy. I was going to write to you, explain...’

He gave a wry little smile. ‘That was what I didn’t want you to do. I don’t think letters are ever very satisfactory. I wanted to talk to you face to face.’

She sighed. ‘It would have been much easier for both of us, though, if you had let me explain in a letter. I find it hard to talk about, Cy.’

‘I realise that; that’s why I’ve been so careful all these months not to talk about what happened to you. I realised you weren’t over it yet, and might not be for a long time. You mustn’t be afraid I’m getting impatient, Antonia.’

‘It isn’t that!’ she burst out. ‘I mean, that isn’t why, not really. It’s just that I’ve realised that...’ She stopped, biting her lip, then plunged on, ‘That although I like you, I don’t love you, Cy, not...not that way...not enough for marriage, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to marry you when I know I never could.’

His face had changed while she was speaking, his pale brows meeting. ‘I’m not asking you to fall in love with me,’ he said with a touch of impatience, even irritation. ‘I thought you understood that. I’m not a romantic teenager, looking for the girl of my dreams; I’m not going to expect too much from you and I hoped you wouldn’t expect too much from me. I thought we suited each other. I’m fond of you; I like you very much. You fit in with my lifestyle, with Patsy, with the palazzo. I think you would be a comfortable wife, in spite of the fact that you’re so much younger. As I’m so much older than you, that could have been a problem, but in your case I felt it was an asset.’

She gazed at him dumbly through her mask. He had never talked like this before. As what he had said sank in, she realised that she had made false assumptions about Cy.

‘After your experience two years ago I realised you had been put off sex, maybe for life,’ he coolly went on. ‘That was partly why I proposed in the first place.’

Antonia’s mouth parted on a silent gasp, but her feather mask hid from Cy her look of incredulity.

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

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