Wounds of Passion by Charlotte Lamb (primary phonics .TXT) 📕

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.

Cy turned and looked at Antonia, walked over to her corner. ‘I can at least waltz. Let’s have one dance, then I’m going,’ he said coolly, taking her hand.

As they walked out into the garden she saw Patrick with a group by the fig tree. His blue eyes narrowed, hard as cold slate, watching them as Cy put an arm around her waist and drew her into his arms. He danced well but Antonia felt clumsy, stumbling, very