Free The Sin of Cynara by Violet Winspear Page A

have been a love quite terrible to have led to a quarrel so intense, and with a shiver at such consequences Carol turned away from the windows and let the curtains fall back into place, hiding the dark things of the night.
      She placed her wine glass on a table and went into the bathroom to take a warm shower, which might help to relax her. She had hung her robe in there in readiness, and after bundling her hair into a shower cap, she stepped under the water and closed her mind to everything but the warm pelt of it. Back home there had never been this kind of luxury and she enjoyed it to the full and it was a good half hour before she was towelled dry and casually enclosed in the folds of her robe. She released her hair and wandered back into her bedroom, only to pause sharply in the archway, a hand flying to her throat.
      Silhouetted against the lamplight was the figure of a woman and she was bending over the bed, staring silently at the sleeping figure of Teri.
      There was something about her intentness that petrified Carol. She sensed danger to the boy and wanted to leap forward and push that dark-haired, silent figure away from him. But that would be melodramatic, and after her first thrust of surprise she recognized the woman as Bedelia — the young wife from whom Vincenzo had run away, turning up in England to bring emotional havoc into the lives of Carol and her sister Cynara.
      'Good evening.' Carol forced herself to speak in a matter-of-fact voice as she stepped into the room and tightened the sash of her robe. 'You will be careful not to wake him, won't you? He's had a long day and is tired out.'
      At the sound of Carol's voice the young woman swung round from the bedside and smouldering in her eyes was her resentment that Carol and the boy had been allowed to remain at the palazzo. They stared at each other, two women who had believed in Vincenzo and been bitterly disillusioned.
      'You had no right to bring him here.' Bedelia gestured at the bed. 'I was Vincenzo's real wife, and that child is a—'
      'Don't you dare say it !' Carol spoke in a low, fierce voice. 'Teri is only a child and I won't have him insulted by you, or frightened in any way. If you dare to do so, then I'll go straight to the baróne and have you stopped. Believe me, I didn't come here with the idea of - of hurting you, signora, for I didn't even know about you. I believed Vincenzo Falcone to be a single man, otherwise I'd never have married him.'
      'Why should I believe you?' Bedelia thrust with a ringed hand at her blue-black hair, and stared hatefully at the blonde hair falling so abundantly over the shoulders of Carol's mauve wrapper. 'You are a woman on the make, that is all too evident to me, but you have taken in the baróne with your innocent airs, and your son. I suppose you are hoping that he will make the child his heir, as he is never likely to marry himself.'
      'Why isn't he likely to marry?' Carol asked. 'He's still a fairly young man, and he has a large estate to pass on.'
      'The woman would have to be blind.' Bedelia flung up her head with an arrogant gesture. 'Or very ambitious, especially if she has a nameless child to provide for. Some women would go to quite some lengths to secure a large estate for a penniless—'
      'I am warning you not to use that word, signora' Carol stepped with sudden decision towards Bedelia and took her by the arm. 'If we must discuss my son, then we'll do it where he won't be awoken by our voices. There is a small salottino just at the top of that small flight of stairs and we can talk there.'
      With determination Carol drew Bedelia towards the flight of iron-railed spiral stairs that led upwards to a small room with charming antique furniture painted with cupids and garlands. Chairs of petit-point, a Venetian lantern at the centre of the ceiling, a writing-table with carvings of fauns dancing, and in a niche of the mimosa-coloured walls a Madonna softly lighted by a little