Free Appassionata by Jilly Cooper Page B

hand.
    ‘I married an angel,’ said Rupert.
    Abby’s pallor was lard-like now. Beads of sweat kept breaking out on her upper lip and her forehead.
    ‘Why isn’t she with you?’ she said sullenly.
    ‘She’s in Bogotá, we’re adopting a baby.’
    ‘How very caring of you,’ Hermione could no longer bear to be excluded from Rupert’s conversation, ‘to take on a disadvantaged youngster,’ she added warmly. ‘If I wasn’t concertizing all year, Bobby, my partner and I have often thought of adopting a little sibling for Cosmo.’
    ‘Cosmo’d probably eat it,’ muttered Rupert.
    Hermione’s son created more havoc than most earthquakes.
    ‘Of course Cosmo is super-gifted,’ sighed Hermione. ‘He could inhibit a less bright child. He’s such a plucky little horseman, too, Rupert, I thought you might give him some riding lessons.’
    Rupert laughed at a scowling Rannaldini.
    ‘Lysander’d better do that, he’s the brilliant rider.’
    Passers-by kept peering in from the street outside, then leaping up and down in ecstasy and pointing as they recognized Abby. In the restaurant, diners kept coming over seeking her autograph, and then noticing Hermione and Rannaldini wanted theirs as well. Hermione kept singing the same doom-laden bars from The Force of Destiny .
    Rannaldini sipped white wine very slowly and stared covertly at Rupert. Ironically, until Rupert had got involved with Lysander, Rannaldini had always longed to be friends with him, aware how much they had in common.
    Both men were extremely successful, intensely competitive, insanely jealous, spoilt and, ultimately, insecure. Both had had mothers who hadn’t loved them, and had taken it out on women ever since. Except that Rupert had got lucky with Taggie. Deep down Rannaldini was bitterly ashamed of being unable to sustain a relationship.
    Now he couldn’t take his eyes off Rupert, searching for grey hairs, red veins, spare tyres, some sign that the peacock feathers were beginning to moult. Maddeningly there was none. He was dying to have a go at Rupert, but didn’t want to betray his longing or the white heat of his animosity in front of Christopher.
    Christopher was hopping mad. Everything had gone wrong, he loathed not being in control. He’d wanted Abby to be admiring and respectful to Rannaldini so he could do a number on Hermione, but all either woman could do was to drool over that arrogant, mischief-making Brit., who was now giving Abby his card, and writing the fax number of his hotel in Bogotá on the back.
    ‘I hear you’ve got Benny Basanovich on your books,’ Rannaldini interrupted his thoughts.
    But Christopher didn’t want to talk about Benny. There were many instrumentalists and singers on Shepherd Denston’s books who would profit from an introduction to Rannaldini. That was another reason for signing up the great maestro but that could come later. Tonight all he wanted to talk about was Rannaldini.
    As Hermione had gone off to the Ladies in a huff because more people were asking for Abby’s autograph, Christopher said softly to Rannaldini, ‘I want to put the two most explosive talents in the world together.’
    Rannaldini glanced at Abby. She was a spoilt brat, and not his type. But he’d always been turned on by indifference. He’d enjoy taming her, making her jump, reducing her to crawling submission.
    He also wanted that Mozart CD deal, because he suspected the New World Orchestra were not going to be the push-over he’d expected. The board had refused him the total hiring and firing rights he’d had with his last orchestra. It would be good to have a mega-record contract to bargain with.
    He wanted the deal, but not Christopher as an agent. Christopher, he decided, was an avaricious thug.
    ‘I’ll have a dessert if you will, Christopher.’ Hermione had returned from the Ladies, face repainted, reeking of Arpège .
    ‘Full many a flower is born to blush unseen and waste its sweetness on desserts,’ quipped