Claudia could not do her any harm, yet she was unable to rid herself of a feeling of fear. It persisted throughout the night, disturbing her sleep and giving her such vividly unpleasant dreams that she was glad when daylight came and she could get up and begin a new day.

Half-way through the morning Filippo telephoned to say he would not be able to take her to lunch as he had planned.

'Are you lunching with Claudia after all?' she asked before she could stop herself.

'Yes. She rang me a little while ago. It seems her affairs are in more of a mess than I had realized, and as I am one of her husband's executors I feel it is my duty to meet her accountant and talk to him.'

'She's just making an excuse to stop you from having lunch with me.'

He chuckled. 'You sound jealous, little one.'

'I am.'

'Then you know how to remedy it. Once our engagement is made public it will put paid to all the designing women who are after me.'

'You're not a bit conceited, are you?' she said sarcastically.

'I am extremely conceited,' he chuckled. 'And with good cause!'

Smiling unwillingly, she replaced the telephone and turned to go back to her work bench.

'That was the Conte Rosetti?' Signora Botelli inquired.

'Yes. He was - I was supposed to be having lunch with him, but he has to see Signora Medina's accountant.'

'Are you sure it is not an excuse? I do not wish you to be hurt, my child.'

Erica felt so guilty at causing the Signora unnecessary concern that she decided to tell her the truth. 'As a matter of fact I'd like you to-' She stopped as the door opened and a customer came in. Seeing it was going to be a long-drawn- out sale she gave a slight shrug and went back to her jeweller's bench.

She had already taken the emerald out and it lay gleaming green on a black velvet tray. Bereft of its centre stone the brooch was easy to repair and she was working on the claws when she felt someone standing behind her.

Looking round, she was surprised to see Claudia. 'Good afternoon, signora. Is there no one in the shop?'

'I came to see you,' Claudia said. 'I wondered if you had done the new designs you promised me. I meant to ask you last night, but I forgot.'

'I've sketched out a few ideas, but I'm not satisfied with them.'

'Can't you at least let me see them?'

Erica hesitated and then went over to the desk. As she did so Claudia bent to look at the brooch.

'So you have taken out the emerald. You would be wise not to let it out of your sight.'

'Don't worry,' Erica said grimly, 'I won't.' She bent over the bottom drawer and searched among her designs to find the ones she wanted. 'There you are,' she said, and held them out.

Claudia swung round from the jeweller's bench and took them. She studied them for several moments and then nodded. 'I like them very much indeed. Can you give me a price for doing the one with the diamonds and rubies?'

'You will have to ask Signora Botelli. I will work out the carats involved and the time estimated to make it up. Based on that the Signora will give you the cost.'

'Excellent.' Claudia looked at her watch. 'I must fly or else I will be late for my luncheon party.

She hurried out and Erica returned to the jeweller's bench. The brooch lay where she had left it. The claws must set harder before she replaced the emerald. She glanced at the stone on the velvet tray, then picked it up and peeped into the shop. The Signora was alone and Erica asked her to open the safe and put the emerald away in it until they returned from lunch.

'I a.s.sume you will not be making the Conte a charge for the repairs?' the woman asked casually.

'I hadn't thought about it,' Erica admitted. 'Naturally I wouldn't want to charge him. I will pay you myself for the time I spend on it.'

'Do not be silly. I merely wished to know if it was a labour of love.'

'Very much so,' Erica murmured, and seeing the twinkle in her employer's eyes, said: 'The Conte and I are engaged. It is still a secret, but I would like you to know.'

'I am delighted for you... delighted! You will live in Venice, of course. It is wonderful news. We will have a special celebration lunch together at the Gritti Palace.'

Brooking no argument, Signora Botelli took Erica to lunch on the terrace of this most elegant of all hotels. The tables were full, but this did not deter the plump matron and within a moment a table was found for them overlooking the water.

'How on earth did you manage it?' Erica asked.

'A bribe! But you, my child, will just need to mention Conte Rosetti's name!'

Erica blushed. 'I can't believe it's happening to me.'

'Neither can I,' came the honest reply. 'The Conte undoubtedly loves you.'

'Yes, he does,' said Erica, and tried not to be bitter that he was lunching with Claudia. She could imagine them sitting opposite one another in the undoubtedly elegant surroundings of the woman's home. Did she live in a palazzo too or in one of the old but elegant apartments into which many of the larger homes had been turned? Either way it made no difference, for she was sure Claudia envisaged her own future in the Rosetti Palazzo. How angry she would be when she learned that' all her scheming had come to naught. But for the moment she did not know it and still saw Erica as a shadow on her horizon rather than a positive threat.

Refusing to let thoughts of Claudia and Filippo spoil the luncheon she was being given, she forced her attention on to the well-dressed people around her. Half of them were tourists, the other half being wealthy Venetians or foreigners who lived here regularly for the summer months; not tourists in the proper sense of the word.

'Have you set the date of your wedding?' Signora Botelli asked 'Not yet,' Erica said quickly. 'Only that we're having an engagement party in about a month. A very big one.'

'Then I am sure the wedding will be small. A family affair only - and very soon.'

'I still can't believe it's happening to me.'

'You are a lucky girl, Erica.'

'I know,' she said humbly.

'And the Conte is lucky too. He will have a beautiful and talented wife and - most important of all - one who he knows will love him for himself alone.'

Erica gulped, made maudlin by the sentiment, though this soon changed to laughter as Signora Botelli regaled her with tales of her customers.

'If I were to publish all the gossip I know,' the woman chuckled, 'I could make myself a fortune - but lose a business!'

'And you'd much rather have the business,' Erica stated.

'No question of it. The gossip I learn adds spice to my work, but it is the work which I enjoy most.'

It was later than usual when they returned to the shop. The claws of the Rosetti brooch had already set properly and the Signora opened the safe and gave Erica the emerald.

Carefully she put it into position and set to work. Slowly each claw was repositioned and the emerald held firmly in place. Only then did Erica sit back with a sigh of relief, for the first time aware that her forehead was wet. She wiped her hand across and deciding she owed herself a treat, picked up the brooch and pinned it to her dress. It looked out of place on the simple cotton and she undid it and threaded it through a gold chain. She would see what it looked like as a necklet. She fastened it round her throat and pulled her dress away from her shoulders as she peered at herself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. Worn as a locket the brooch looked magnificent, the emerald glowing against her skin and its colour reflected in her eyes.

'You are more beautiful than the jewel,' a deep voice said, and she gasped and swung round.

Filippo was lounging negligently in the doorway, though there was nothing negligent about the look on his face as his eyes moved over her.

Hastily she pulled her dress into position, undid the pendant and placed it in its case before she handed it to him. 'It's ready for you.'

'Thank you, cam.' He slipped the case into his pocket. 'I have come to take you home with me.'

'I can't leave yet. I don't close the shop for another few hours.'

'You will leave now,' he said quietly. 'Signora Botelli has agreed.'

Something in his manner told Erica not to argue with him. Filippo had so far gone along with her desire to keep their engagement a secret, but she had the feeling he had reached the end of his tether. Fear and excitement stirred in her at the thought of Filippo in a temper. He would be magnificent.

'Well?' he said impatiently.

'I'm coming. I'll just say goodbye to the Signora.'

A few moments later they were strolling along the arcade. Music was being played in one of the cafes and the square itself was thronged with tourists, pigeons and peanut vendors.

'How I dislike Venice in the summer,' said Filippo. 'Still, if I had not broken my habit and stayed here for part of this season I would never have met you.'

'It might have been better if you hadn't.'

'Still full of doubts?' He caught hold of her hand. 'Are they doubts about me or about your own feelings?'

*I won't change,' she said quietly.

'Then why can't you believe the same about me?' He squeezed her fingers. 'When you are truly mine, you will not doubt me.'

'Do you think s.e.x can solve all problems?'

'I think that you need my pa.s.sion to make you become a woman in the full sense of the word. And when you are, you will have sufficient confidence in yourself to be sure of me.'

'And when the beauty fades?'

'Even a dying rose has loveliness. We will grow old and happy together, Erica - I promise you that.'

'Oh, Filippo!' Tears filled her eyes and she clutched at his hand. 'What a wonderful promise!'

They reached the far end of the square and threaded their way through a maze of streets and over several bridges until they reached the gardens of the Palazzo Rosetti, an oasis of green among the grey stone. The rays of the setting sun lent it an apricot cast, and gave green depths to the murky waters that lapped at its sides. It had an enchantment it would not hold in winter, when mist and greyness superseded colour and the sun remained lemon cool and distant in a cloudy sky.

Venice in the winter. Venice in the winter with Filippo. She hugged the knowledge close. Wherever they were she would be happy, even if it was the North Pole. I'd probably be happier with him in the North Pole, she mused, glancing briefly at his austere profile as he walked beside her to the ma.s.sive front door. Away from civilization there would be nothing and no one to disturb him; most important of all, no other woman to command his attention and she could have him all to herself. But this was a pipe dream and she was foolish to think of it. She had to get used to sharing Filippo with his friends and family. She must come to terms with her jealousy, for unless she did it would spoil both their lives.

'Relax,' Filippo murmured, putting his hand on her arm. 'You're as tense as a nun about to take her final vows.'

She laughed nervously. 'That is exactly the opposite of what I will be doing!'

'Opposite?' His eyes glittered. 'How do you mean, the opposite? Do you not see your marriage vows as final ones?'

'No - yes. I mean, I wasn't thinking of that part of it. Not the vows. Just that the promises I'd be making would lead me into a very different life from those of a nun.'

Conscious of his black eyes on her, she felt herself reddening and, seeing her embarra.s.sment, he gave a low triumphant laugh and gripped her fingers.

'I can't wait till you are mine,' he whispered. 'You will telephone your father tonight and ask him to fly out immediately. If not, we will fly to him. I have no intention of delaying our marriage any longer.'

'We aren't engaged yet - at least not officially.'

He gave an angry exclamation but said no more as they crossed the stone hall and walked upstairs to the vast salon. It was empty and, seeing her surprise, he smiled.

'Anna and Sophie are in Rome. They will be living in London for six months, as you are probably aware, so they have gone on a shopping expedition to ^quip themselves for the wilderness.'

'London isn't a wilderness,' she protested.

'Try explaining that to my sister,' he twinkled. 'As far as she is concerned, no city compares with Rome for clothes.'

'I didn't think she cared that much about fashion.'

As she spoke, Erica could not help feeling vaguely depressed. Even Anna, sensible though she seemed, still had outmoded ideas of luxurious living: rushing to Rome to equip herself with a wardrobe for living in London for six months, and probably spending more in a few days than the average person would earn in a year. She knew it was ridiculous to compare one person's life with another. Besides, in spending money, the Rosetti family were helping to keep many people in their jobs.

'Your thoughts are not pleasant,' Filippo interrupted them. 'You do not find us easy to understand, do you?'

'I understand you, but I don't always find it easy to agree with what you do.'

'What do I - what do we do that disturbs you?'

'Many things. The way you live - all the panoply and the retainers - the enormous amount you spend on things I consider unnecessary. Even Anna's rushing off to Rome... It's such a waste of money. I'm sure they have wardrobes stuffed with clothes.'

He was so long replying that she was afraid she had angered him. He had asked her a point blank question and she had answered him truthfully, but now she wondered if it had been wise. In accepting Filippo's love she was also accepting his way of life. How much more simply Ruth had put it to Naomi. Thy people shall be my people. Thy ways my ways.

'You are worrying needlessly, Erica.' Filippo was again speaking. 'When you are my wife you may live the way you wish.'

She sighed. 'I doubt if that would be possible. You will expect so much from me, Filippo, and I'm not sure I can cope.'

'What is this nonsense you're talking!'

He came close to her and she could feel the warmth of his body and his magnetism.

'I make no excuse for having an ill.u.s.trious name,' he said quietly. 'Nor do I excuse my wealth, for it was come by honestly, with foresight and hard work. I may not be your idea of a businessman, but I run many concerns that take up much of my time. Don't be misled because I have many hours to spend with you.'

I'm not,' she protested.

'You are. I can see it in your eyes. You resent my wealth and, even more, you resent that in marrying me you might become used to it!'

'I'll never get used to it.'

'You will,' he a.s.sured her, 'and you will also go to Rome to buy your clothes. And to Paris too!' Before she could reply he pulled her into his arms and buried his head in her hair. 'Why are we arguing in this foolish way? We love each other, and these little differences will not matter once we are married.'