Lorenzo's Reward

Lorenzo nodded, resigned. “The moment my sister, Isabella, learns I have guests, she will come rushing to meet you.”

Jess bit her lip. “Won’t she find it odd? That you’ve invited me to stay at your house?”

Lorenzo sat in silence for some time, his eyes fixed on their entwined hands. “She will be very surprised,” he said at last, his voice deeper and more uneven than it had been. “Because I have never invited a woman there before.” He looked up again, his eyes alight with an urgency that took her breath away. “I did not mean to say this. At least, not tonight. I told myself I must wait, be patient. But, Dio, I have wasted enough of my life already.” His grasp tightened. “I knew from the first moment I saw you that I wanted you for my own. Not for a relazione—a love affair, but forever. I want you for my wife, Jessamy.”

A family with a passion for life—and for love.

Welcome to the second book in The Dysarts, a wonderful new series by bestselling author Catherine George. Lorenzo’s Reward tells the story of the second Dysart Sister, Jess, whose experiences have led her to believe that she will never enjoy intimacy with a man—until she finds herself pursued by darkly handsome Italian Lorenzo Forli. Is Lorenzo sincere when he talks about claiming Jess as his wife? Or will it be reward enough for him to seduce her into his bed?

Over the coming months, you’ll get to know each member of the Dysart family, and share in their trials and joys, their hopes and dreams, as they live their lives with passion—and for love.

Lorenzo’s Reward

Catherine George

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

THE crowded pub was hot, smoke-filled, and full of men in suits talking business over lunch. Jess eyed her watch impatiently, willing Simon to hurry, then looked up to find a complete stranger watching her intently from the far end of the bar. Jess felt an odd plummeting sensation in the pit of her stomach when dark, heavy-lidded eyes lit with incredulous recognition as they met hers. She glanced over her shoulder, sure he must be looking at some other woman, but there was no other female in sight.

Jess looked back again, which was a mistake. This time she couldn’t look away. Heat rose in her face. Irritably she ordered herself to stop sitting there like a hypnotised rabbit, her pulse suddenly erratic as the man put down his drink and with purpose began to push his way through the crowd towards her. But before he could reach her two other men joined him, barring his way. The stranger shrugged expressively, signalling regret, and Jess finally broke eye contact. Then it dawned on her that one of his companions was Mr Jeremy Lonsdale, unrecognisable for a moment minus his barristers wig and gown. But when the third member of the trio turned his head she gasped in utter consternation. He was all too familiar, with eyes which blazed in incredulous affront when Jess panicked at the sight of him, spun around and fled from the pub, with Simon Hollister, her astonished lunch companion, in hot pursuit.

Jess dodged through honking traffic, and ran like a deer up the road to the courthouse, to subject herself to the usual security process inside. She was still gasping for breath when Simon caught up with her in the jury restaurant.

“What the hell was all that about?” he panted.

“Prosecuting—Counsel—was there. With chums.” Jess heaved in a lungful of air. “One of them was Roberto Forli, my sister’s ex-boyfriend,” she finished in a rush.

Simon whistled. “And we jurors are forbidden connection to anyone at all on the case.”

“Exactly!”

“How well do you know the man?”

“I’ve only met him once.”

“Did Lonsdale see you?”

“I don’t think so. He had his back to me.”

Simon smiled reassuringly. “Then it’s probably all right. Anyway, we’ll soon know if your friend grassed on you. Let’s grab something to eat before we’re called. I left our lunch on the bar when you took off.”

But after her mad dash in the midday heat Jess couldn’t face the thought of food. Her mind was too full of the unexpected meeting with Roberto Forli. And with the stranger in his company. The memory of those dark, intent eyes sent shivers down her spine. The man had obviously recognised her from somewhere. But where? And when? Jess forced herself back to the present with an effort, and gulped down the rest of her mineral water as the jury was called back into the court.

As she took her seat in the jury box Jess buttoned her jacket against the cold of the courtroom, which was arctic compared with the summer day outside. According to bus driver Phil, the comedian in their group, the courtroom was kept cool to keep the jury awake during the longer discourses, and at the same time prevent heatstroke for the judge and barristers in their archaic horsehair wigs and black gowns.

While they waited for the judge Jess firmly blanked the lunchtime incident from her mind by thinking back over her two weeks of jury service. She was glad, now, of the experience, but the first day had been daunting. After waiting in line to pass through an airport-style metal detector she had been directed to the jury restaurant, an airport-style cafeteria packed with people queuing for coffee, reading newspapers, or just sitting staring into space if they’d managed to find a chair. Later, in an empty courtroom with the other newcomers, she had watched a video which set out the rules, but a wait of two days had elapsed before she was called into service.

The clerk of the court had shuffled cards and read out names as usual, but this time Jessamy Dysart was among the chosen. She had been led off to a courtroom, and with eleven of her peers sworn in as a member of the jury. At first glance the dark wood and leather of the courtroom, though impressive enough, had seemed a lot smaller than on television. Jess had been rather disconcerted to find herself at such close quarters not only with the prisoner in the dock, but with the barristers and solicitors facing the judge in the well of the court.

Now there was only another day of a different trial to go, with a different batch of jurors. This time Jess was seated in the front of the jury box next to Simon Hollister. He had made a beeline for her from the first day, and frankly admitted that his original intention had been to avoid jury duty by pleading pressure of work in his marketing job in the City. But once actually there in the courthouse an unexpected sense of civic duty had made him stay.

“Added to the prospect of a fortnight coming into close contact with you, Jess,” he’d added, with a grin.

Jess had taken this with a pinch of salt. Simon was a charmer, and she liked him, but she also liked Edward, the ex-headmaster, and June, the office cleaner, and most of her fellow jurors. However, she longed for this particular trial to be over. The young woman in the dock, Prosecuting Counsel alleged, had knowingly smuggled drugs into the country in her luggage. Like Jess she was in her mid-twenties, but with eyes dark-ringed in a pale, strained face, and from the evidence there seemed little doubt that she was guilty.

Previously Jess had preferred to eat a sandwich lunch in the jury restaurant with the others. But today she had given in to Simon’s coaxing, glad to escape from the memory of the defendant’s hopeless eyes. Now Jess wished she’d stayed put as usual. The fascinating stranger’s interest had intrigued her, and in other circumstances she would have liked to meet him. But not when he came as one of a package with Roberto Forli and Prosecuting Counsel.

Jess waited in trepidation as the afternoon session began, fully expecting the judge to stop the proceedings. But to her vast relief everything went on as usual, and instead of pointing a dramatic finger at her Mr Jeremy Lonsdale merely got to his feet to make his closing speech for the prosecution. When the barrister sat down at last Simon gave a discreet thumbs-up sign. Afterwards Defence Counsel’s speech proved to be mainly a criticism of Prosecution’s case, with interminable reminders to the jury about burden of proof and miscarriages of justice. Long before he finished Jess bitterly regretted the reckless volume of water downed before coming into court. Hot with embarrassment, she was forced to raise a hand at last when the barrister paused for breath. With the judge’s permission the usher escorted all members of the jury from the box to lock them in the jury room where eleven of them waited while Jess, crimson-faced, retired to their private cloakroom. Afterwards they all filed back into the court again to hear Defence Counsel come to a conclusion. When he achieved this at long last the judge ruled that it was time to finish for the day. He would leave his summing up for the morning.

“Not to worry, love,” whispered June afterwards. “Don’t be embarrassed. Nature calls everyone—even the judge.”

The June sunshine was warm as Jess drove home through rush hour. Moving from one set of traffic lights to the next in slow progression, she was so preoccupied with the thoughts of the fascinating stranger she almost shot a red light at one point, and glued her attention to the traffic afterwards instead. The hot, crowded city streets filled Jess with sudden longing for Friars Wood, the cool house perched on the cliffs overlooking the Wye Valley, and the meal her mother would be concocting for the family at that very moment. Just one more day to go, she consoled herself, then she could go home for a break.

Jess managed to park near her flat in Bayswater, then trudged along the terrace of tall white houses, glad to get back to a home far more peaceful these days, since Fiona Todd had moved out to live with her man. Jess and her remaining flatmate, Emily Shaw, were now the only tenants, an arrangement which worked very amicably.

When Jess got in Emily was lying on the sofa, watching television. “Hi,” she said, turning the set off. “My word, you look done in. What’s up?”

Jess groaned. “Have I had a fraught day!”

“Is it desperately hush-hush, or are you allowed to tell me?”

“This bit I can! I ran into Roberto Forli in a pub at lunchtime.”

Emily’s big eyes widened. “Really? Your sister’s ex from Florence? What’s he doing here in London?”

“No idea. Whatever it was I wish he’d been doing it somewhere else,” said Jess irritably.

“Why?” said Emily, astonished.

“It’s a long story.”

“But jolly interesting, by the sound of it.”

Jess took a deep breath. “Simon Hollister, the marketing bloke on the jury with me, asked me out for a swift lunch. By sheer bad luck we hit on the same pub as Prosecuting Counsel.”

“No!”

Jess described the incident with Roberto Forli to her riveted friend. But, for reasons she wasn’t quite sure of, made no mention of the stranger. “We’re forbidden contact with anyone connected to the court, of course, so when I saw Roberto all chummy with Prosecuting Counsel I shot out of the pub like greased lightning and did a runner back to the courthouse.”

“Did Roberto see you?”

“You bet he did.” Jess collapsed into a chair, grateful for the fruit juice her friend handed over. “Wonderful. I needed this. Thank goodness you were home early today.”

Emily Shaw worked for an executive in a credit card company, and it was rare that she was home at this hour. “Mr Boss Man’s away, and I’ve been slaving like mad to get everything shipshape before I take off on my hols. I developed a nasty little headache after lunch, so I knocked off early for once.”

“I should think so.” Jess eyed her closely. “You look horribly peaky. Have you taken any painkillers?”

“Yes, Nurse. And I’m going to bed early.” Emily grinned. “You should do the same for once.”

“I probably will.” Jess smiled ruefully. “Pity I had to offend Roberto like that. You should have seen his face when I bolted!”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense—what happened when you went back into the jury box? Did the judge excommunicate you, or whatever?”

“No, thank goodness. But while Defence Counsel was droning on I realised I shouldn’t have drunk so much water.” Jess giggled as she described the trooping out of the entire jury on her account. “There’s only one loo in the jury room, and it’s not exactly soundproof. I think I’m still blushing.”

“Oh, bad luck!” Emily laughed, then eyed Jess speculatively. “I wonder why Leonie’s ex is in London?”

“No idea.” Jess sighed. “Pity he was with Prosecuting Counsel. In any other circumstances I’d have enjoyed a chat with him very much.” And, more to the point, achieved an introduction to the interesting stranger at the same time.

“Never mind,” consoled Emily. “Perhaps Leo will know when you go home for the wedding.”

Jess brightened. “Which now seems plain sailing, thank goodness. I was getting a bit tense about the way things were dragging on, in case I had to dash straight back after the wedding to go to court on Monday, but with a bit of luck the case will finish tomorrow. Lucky for me, anyway,” she added, sobering.

“Cheer up—the weekend forecast looks good.” Emily grinned. “The sun is sure to shine for Leonie on Sunday, anyway. The minute I set foot in a plane to fly away from it Britain always swelters in a heatwave.”

“Since you’re off to sunny Italy it doesn’t matter.” Jess sighed. “I wish I was going with you. After seven years apart Jonah and Leo were all for dashing off to a register office right away, of course, but when they were persuaded to wait for a conventional June wedding I hadn’t the heart to say the date clashed with my holiday.”

“You know nothing would have kept you from Leonie’s wedding! Not to worry; we’ll do a holiday together some other time. And my sister was in raptures when I suggested she stepped into the breach.”

“Who’s looking after the children?”

“My mother’s taking turns with the other grandma. And Jack gets home to supervise bathtime and bed, anyway. I told Celia to relax—they’ll all cope.”

“Of course they will. And I’ll use the time off to laze about at home.” Jess yawned widely. “I’m off for a bath.”

Jess was towelling thick layers of flaxen hair when Emily banged on the bathroom door.

“Phone call for you,” she called. “Guess who?”

“Surprise me.”

“A sexy-sounding gent by the name of Forli!”

“What? Tell me you’re pulling my leg, Em!” said Jess, throwing open the door in dismay.

“Of course I’m not,” said Emily indignantly. “He’s hanging on as we speak, dearie, so get yourself to the phone.”

Jess shook her head violently. “I still can’t talk to him.”

“What on earth shall I say?”

“Tell him I’m in the bath. Asleep. Anything. Why didn’t you say I was out?”

“I didn’t realise a phone call was taboo as well.” Emily shook her head. “Honestly, Jess, any woman in her right mind would kill to listen to that voice purring down the line. Who would know?” She flung up her hands. “All right, all right. I’ll lie through my teeth and swear you’re prostrate with a migraine.”

“Perfect. If I’m not I should be!”

When Jess joined Emily minutes later her friend grinned as she ladled cream and smoked salmon over bowls of steaming pasta.

“I’m afraid the gentleman didn’t believe a word of it. But he was much too civilised to blame the messenger.”

“Damn, damn, damn!” said Jess bitterly. “Any other time I’d have been delighted to talk to him.”

“I believe you. Is he tall, dark and handsome to match the voice?”

“Not quite.” That particular description belonged to the third man in the equation. “Roberto’s tall enough, but fairish in that olive-skinned, Latin sort of way. A bit of a star on the ski-slopes, according to Leo.”

“Smouldering blue eyes, of course,” said Emily, smacking her lips.

“What have you been reading lately? Actually his eyes are dark like mine.”

“Smouldering black eyes, then. Even better.”

Jess’s heart gave a sudden lurch at the memory of dark eyes which had smouldered so effectively she couldn’t get them out of her mind. She ground her teeth in frustration. If only she’d been able to talk to Roberto he could have introduced her. Why did this kind of thing never go right for her? She eyed Emily hopefully. “I don’t suppose Roberto gave you his number? I could happily ring him tomorrow, after the trial.”

“Sorry. A second rebuff must have been too much for the poor guy.”

“I’ll bet. Especially as it’s not long since my sister jilted him. We Dysart girls really know how to treat a man, don’t we?” Jess ate her favourite supper with less relish than it deserved. “Maybe Leo knows his number. If so I’ll ring to apologise.” And casually ask who the friend might be.

“Don’t just apologise—grovel!” advised Emily.

“You haven’t even met the man.”

“I don’t have to! Just listening to that voice was enough.”

Next day the proceedings in court were over sooner than expected. The judge reminded the jury of the exact meaning of the indictment, of what the Prosecution was obliged to prove to win its case and what the Defence must have done to persuade the jury to acquit, and concluded by telling the jury it was entirely up to them to decide. The ushers took an oath to keep the jury in a private and convenient place, and Jess and her fellow jurors were led off to the jury room and locked in to make their deliberations.

This time the facts were so conclusive that the jury members were reluctantly unanimous, and back in court later Edward, their foreman, delivered the verdict of guilty. Up to that point Jess had been very sorry for the young woman in the dock, but to her surprise Prosecuting Counsel justified the jury’s verdict by disclosing a prior conviction of a similar nature before the judge passed sentence.

Afterwards the twelve jury members went off to the pub Jess had raced from the day before. But this time there was no sign of Roberto Forli and Jeremy Lonsdale, nor, most disappointing of all, of the third member of the trio.

“Let’s keep in touch, Jess,” said Simon Hollister, as they emerged with the others into hot afternoon sunlight. “If I give you a ring soon, will you have dinner with me?”

“I’d love to,” agreed Jess. “Not yet awhile, though. I’m off home to Gloucestershire for my sister’s wedding tomorrow, and I’m staying on for a few days.”

“Lucky old you,” he said enviously. “I’m back to the City grind on Monday. I’ll ring you in a week or so, then.”

Jess nodded, then beckoned to June. “Time I went. I’m giving our friend a lift. See you, Simon.”

The moment she got back to the flat Jess rang home. “Hi, Mother, it’s me. The trial finished today after all, so I can stay on after the wedding with a light heart.”

“Thank heavens for that,” said Frances Dysart with relief. “How are you, darling? Tired?”

“Exhausted. How are things there? Mad panic on all sides?”

“Not a bit of it. The bride is floating about on a pink cloud and Fenny, needless to say, is bursting with excitement. But Kate’s a bit tense. She’s only halfway through her exams.”

“I can’t believe she’s worried about failing! Kate’s the brains of the family.” Jess chuckled ruefully. “Leo got the looks and Adam the charm, whereas poor old me—”

“Whereas poor old you,” echoed her mother dryly, “are the sexiest, according to your brother.”

Jess was astounded. “Really? When did Adam say that?”

“This morning. He arrived with a carload of laundry—in time for lunch, of course.”

Jess laughed. “How did his Finals go?”

“He refuses to commit himself. He’s going back to Edinburgh to paint it red after the wedding, but for now I think he’s just relieved the exams are over.”

“I bet he is. And how about you and Dad? Are you worn out with all the excitement?”

“Not in the least. Everything’s under control. What time are you arriving tomorrow?”

“I’ll ring when I start off. Jury work’s more tiring than I expected—I really need a lie-in tomorrow before I have my hair cut. I should be with you some time in the afternoon. And mind you take it easy, Mother, don’t work too hard. See you tomorrow. Can you float the bride towards the phone now?”

Leonie Dysart greeted her sister with such exuberance Jess felt wistful, wondering how it felt to be so much in love. And to know with such certainty that her feelings were returned.

“Sorry, Leo, what did you say?” she said quickly.

“I asked how you were feeling after your stint in court.”

“A bit tired, as we speak, but don’t worry. I’ll be firing on all cylinders on the day.” Jess paused. “Leo, this is a bit of a long shot, but I don’t suppose you’d know how to contact Roberto Forli? Here in this country, I mean? You’ll never believe this, but I bumped into him yesterday—”

“Don’t I know it! What on earth was all that about? He rang here afterwards and told me you took one look at him in a pub somewhere and ran for your life. He sounded so stroppy I was surprised when he asked for your telephone number. Did he get in touch last night?”

“Yes, he did. But I couldn’t speak to him then, either.”

“Why not?” demanded her sister in astonishment. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do.” Jess heaved a sigh, then explained the problem in detail.

“Oh, Jess, what bad luck! I knew Roberto had a barrister friend he sometimes stays with in London.”

“Unfortunately the friend was Prosecuting Counsel on the case I was sitting in on. So I thought if I could ring him to explain—”

“You don’t have to,” said Leonie, sounding rather odd. “You’ll see him on Sunday. I’ve invited him to the wedding.”

“What? And he’s actually coming?” said Jess, astonished. “How does Jonah feel about that? Doesn’t he mind having his wedding cluttered up with your former lovers?”

“Just one,” said Leonie tartly. “Not that Roberto was ever my lover, as you well know. Anyway, I invited the Ravellos, who own the school in Florence. And since it’s through them that I met Roberto when I was teaching there it seemed only polite to send him an invitation, too. Mind you, I never dreamed he’d accept.”

“Jonah’s not put out?”

“He’s all for it.”

Jess chuckled. “You mean he’s very happy for Roberto to look on, grinding his teeth, while you take Jonah Savage for your lawful wedded husband.”

“Exactly.” Leonie gave a wry little laugh. “Anyway, Jess, do try to smooth things over with Roberto. He’s a good friend of mine, remember, and I’m fond of him. Poor man. Women invariably chase after Roberto Forli, not run away from him.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE DRIVE home was long and hot, the motorway crowded with holiday traffic, and Jess felt her spirits lift when she saw the twin towers of the older Severn bridge soaring white against the blue sky. She hummed happily in tune with the car radio as she drove across the bridge, then down through Chepstow and on for the remaining miles towards home. She swept in through the gates of Friars Wood at last, gunned the car up the bends of the drive past the Stables where Adam lived, and roared past the main house to park in a crunch of gravel in her usual spot under the trees near the summerhouse at the end of the terrace.