Page 50 of Under a Dancing Star

Ben grimaces. “God, that’s true.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I’d almost feel sorry for the man.”

“Hey!” I exclaim.

“You said it,” Ben retorts.

“Just because I said it doesn’t mean you have to agree with me,” I reply, biting back a smile.

“I can’t win.” He’s smirking now. “Even when I agree with you, it seems I’m in the wrong. It’s a special talent.”

“You’re a very talented individual,” I say. “Just too simple-minded for the subtleties of our conversation.”

“Ah, there you are.” Ben’s dimples appear, distracting me. “I was worried that you were being a bit too nice to me.”

“Trust me,” I say cheerfully, “that’s not something you ever need to worry about.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The next day I am surprised to find Filomena in the drawing room, taking tea with Sir Hugh.

“Oh, sorry,” I exclaim, checking my stride and coming to an abrupt halt. “I came in for my sketch pad.”

“Not at all.” Sir Hugh gets to his feet with a gentlemanly little bow. “It’s lovely to see you again, my dear. Won’t you join us?”

“Please do, Bea.” Filomena gestures to the chair beside her.

I hesitate, but I am curious about Sir Hugh, and Ben’s dislike for him. Ben himself has not been at all forthcoming on the matter, even muttering something about “curiosity killing the cat”, but I am a scientist and, as I pointed out to him, curiosity is one of my defining characteristics

Which is probably why I say, “Thank you. A cup of tea would be lovely.”

Filomena pours me a cup from the silver tea service on the table beside her. The tea is amber and steaming: a perfect taste of home. I settle into one of the hard-backed sofas.

“Filomena tells me you are having art lessons,” Sir Hugh says genially. “I must say the villa is the perfect setting for such an endeavour.”

“Yes,” I agree, “although I’m afraid that my talents are wholly unworthy of this environment. I’m improving, however. Thanks to Ben.” I reach for a plate of flat, pale biscuits dusted in crunchy sugar, biting into one and allowing it to melt on my tongue in a swirl of vanilla.

Sir Hugh laughs gallantly. “I’m sure you do yourself a disservice.” I feel the familiar creeping boredom of polite social visits at Langton. I am not terribly good at small talk. I stir the tea in my cup, and the sound of the silver teaspoon chiming musically against the porcelain echoes around the room.

I reach around in my mind for something to say. “Have you been in Italy long?” I ask finally.

“For about two months.” Sir Hugh sips his tea. “And before that in the south of France, before that in Vienna.”

“But you live in England?”

“I do,” Sir Hugh says. “England will always be my true home. But I find that travel helps me to create. Of course…” He smiles at Filomena. “It does leave me rather relying on the kind hospitality of others if I wish to avoid hotel living. When I learned that darling Filomena was staying here … well, I confess I might have fished for an invitation. It’s just so nice to catch up with old friends, isn’t it?”

“I don’t suppose there are any hotels quite like this place,” I say, setting my empty teacup down again.

“You are perfectly right,” he replies, smiling. “It’s truly something special. Filomena, my dear, you have fallen on your feet.” His tone is pleasant, but something in his words makes me look up sharply.

“I am certainly very lucky,” she says calmly. “As we all are, to enjoy Leo’s hospitality.”

“I know I am,” I break in anxiously, not enjoying the ripple of tension that is suddenly palpable in the room. “If I was stuck at home now, I’d be lonely and cold and miserable – and here…” I spread my fingers wide to indicate the bounty around us.

“Here, you are having art lessons,” Sir Hugh puts in.

“Well, there has to be at least one fly in the ointment,” I say lightly and Sir Hugh chuckles.

“I take it Ben is not a patient instructor?” he asks.