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ÇÝÊÑÇÖí Chapter3

 

CHAPTER THREE


‘GOOD morning.’


Rico walked into the drawing room. Ben was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, occupied with a pile of brightly coloured building blocks. His aunt was beside him. He nodded brief acknowledgement of her, then turned his attention to Ben.


‘What are you making?’ he asked his nephew.


‘The tallest tower in the world.’ Ben announced. ‘Come and see.’


Rico did not need an invitation. As his eyes had lit on his nephew, his heart had squeezed. Memories flooded back in. He could remember Paolo being that age.


A shadow fleetingly crossed his eyes. Paolo had been different from Luca and himself. As his adult self, he knew why. Luca had been born the heir. The firstborn Prince, the Crown Prince, the heir apparent, destined to rule San Lucenzo just as their father, Prince Eduardo, had been destined to inherit the throne from his own father a generation earlier. For eight hundred years the Ceraldis had ruled the tiny principality, which had escaped conquest by any of the other Italian states, or even the invading foreign powers that had plagued the Italian peninsula throughout history. Generation after generation of reigning princes had kept San Lucenzo independent—even in this age of European union the principality was still a sovereign state. Some saw it as a time-warped historical anomaly, others merely as a tax haven and a luxury playground for the very rich. But to his father and his older brother it was their inheritance, their destiny.


And it was an inheritance that would always need protection. Not, these days, against foreign powers, or any territorial interests of the Italian state—relations with Italy were excellent. What made San Lucenzo safe was continuity. The continuity of its ruling family. In many ways the principality was the personal fiefdom of the Ceraldis, and yet it was because of that that it retained its independence. Rico accepted that. Without the Ceraldis it would surely have been merged into Italy, just as all the earlier duchies and city states and papal territories had been during the great Risorgimento of the nineteenth century, that had freed Italy from foreign oppression, and united it as a nation.


The Ceraldis were essential to San Lucenzo, and for that reason, it was essential that every reigning prince had an assured heir apparent.


And—Rico’s mouth tightened—that the heir apparent had a back up in case of emergency.


The traditional ‘heir and a spare’—with himself as the spare.


It was what he had been all his life, growing up knowing that he was simply there in case of disaster. To assure continuity of the Ceraldi line.


But Paolo—ah, Paolo had been different. He had been special to his parents because he’d been an unexpected addition, coming several years after their two older sons. Paolo had had no dynastic function, and so he had been allowed merely to be a boy. A son. A golden boy whose sunny temper had won round even his strait-laced father and his emotionally distant mother.


Which was why his premature death had been all the more tragic, all the more bitter.


Rico hunkered down beside his nephew, taking scant notice of the way his aunt immediately shrank away. Yes, Paolo’s son. No doubt about it. No DNA tests would be required; his paternity was undeniable, blazing from every feature. Perhaps there might be a little of his birth mother about him, but one look at him told the world that he was a Ceraldi.


Benedict. That was what he’d been called. And it was a true name for him.


Blessed.


His heart gave that familiar catch again. Yes, he was blessed, all right. He didn’t know it yet, but he would. And he was more than blessed—he was a blessing himself.


Because, beyond all the publicity and press coverage and gossip that was going to explode at any moment now, the boy was going to be seen as the blessing he was.


The final consolation to his parents for the son they had lost so tragically.





Lizzy moved backwards across the carpet and lifted herself into a nearby armchair. She had hoped, at the fact that she and Ben had had the breakfast room to themselves, that it meant Prince Enrico had gone.


She wished he had.


She felt excruciatingly awkward with him there. She tried not to look at him, but it was hard not to feel intensely aware of his presence in the room. Even without a drop of royal blood in him he would have been impossible to ignore.


By day he seemed even taller, outlined against the light from the window behind him, and his startling good looks automatically drew her eyes. He was wearing designer jeans, immaculately cut, and an open-necked shirt, clearly handmade. Immediately she felt the full force of just how shabbily she was dressed in comparison. Her cheap chainstore skirt and top had probably cost less than his monogrammed handkerchief.


At least, apart from that brief initial nod in her direction, he wasn’t paying any attention to her. It was all on Ben, or helping him build his tower.


Resentment and embarrassment warred within her.


Ben was chattering away confidently, without a trace of shyness, his smiles sunny. He was like Maria in that, Lizzy knew. Hindsight over the years since her terrible death had made things clearer to her. It had been a miracle that Maria’s sunny-tempered nature had not been warped by her upbringing. Despite the way her parents had doted on her, obsessed over her, she really had seemed to escape being spoilt. And yet, for all her sunny nature, she had known what she wanted, and what she’d wanted was to be a model, to live an exciting, glamorous life. And that was what she’d done, smiling happily, ignoring her parents’ dismay, and waltzing off to the life she’d wanted.


And the man she’d wanted.


Disbelief was etched through Lizzy for the thousandth time. That Maria had actually had an affair with Prince Paolo of San Lucenzo and none of them had known. Not even his family, let alone hers.


How had they managed it? He must have been very different from his brother. Even though she hadn’t recognised Enrico, she’d still heard of him—and of his reputation. The Playboy Prince. Her covert gaze rested on him a second. He certainly had the looks for it, all right. Tall, broad-shouldered, sablehaired, with strong, well-cut, aristocratic features.


And those eyes.


Dark, long-lashed, with flecks of gold in them if you looked deeply. Not that she could—or would.


She looked away. It was completely irrelevant what he looked like. It was nothing to do with her. All she had to be concerned about was how long she and Ben would have to hide here before they could go back home.


Ben had paused in his tower-building. He was looking curiously at his helper.


‘Are you really my uncle?’


Immediately Lizzy stiffened.


‘Yes,’ he answered. He spoke in a very matter of fact way. ‘You can call me Tio Rico. That means Uncle Rico. My brother was your father. But he died. It was in the car crash with your mother.’


Ben nodded. ‘I was still growing in her tummy. Then I came out, and she died.’


The Prince’s eyes were carefully watching his nephew. Lizzy could see as she held her breath.


Please,please don’t say anything about the royalty stuff. Please.


There was no point Ben knowing. None at all. It wouldn’t make sense to him, wouldn’t mean anything. One day, when he was much older, she would have to tell him, but till then it was an irrelevance.


Then, to her relief, Ben himself changed the subject.


‘We’ve finished the tower,’ he announced. ‘What shall we make next?’


He seemed to take it for granted his helper would stick around.


But the Prince got to his feet.


‘I’m sorry, Ben. I don’t have time. I have to leave very soon, and first I must talk with your aunt.’


He flicked his gaze across to the figure sitting tensely in the armchair. She got to her feet jerkily. Rico found himself regarding her without pleasure.


How could any female look so dire? No figure, no face, and hair like a bush. His eyes flicked away again, and he did not see her face mottle with colour.


‘Please come this way,’ he said, as he headed towards the door.


He went through into a room that was evidently a library, courteously holding the door open for the aunt, who walked hurriedly past him. He took up a position in front of the fireplace. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.


‘You had better sit down.’


His voice was cool and remote. Very formal.


Lizzy tensed even more. The ease of manner he’d displayed towards Ben had disappeared completely.


What did he want to talk to her about? Hopefully it would be to tell her how long she and Ben had to stay here. She hoped it would not be long. This was so unsettling for Ben. She wanted to get him home again. Back to normal. Back to the cottage, where she could try to forget all about who Ben’s father had been.


She took a seat on the long leather sofa facing the fire about ten feet away. The Prince went on standing. He seemed very tall. Lizzy wished she had remained standing too.


He started to speak.


‘I hope you have begun to come to terms with what has transpired. This has been a considerable shock; I acknowledge that.’


‘I still can’t really believe it,’ Lizzy heard herself say, giving voice to her thoughts. ‘It just seems so impossible. How on earth did Maria get to meet a prince?’


Prince Enrico arched an eyebrow. ‘Not as impossible as you might think. Your sister’s career as a model would have taken her into the social circles frequented by my brother.’


She could read his expression quite clearly. Maria’s life had been a world away from her own.


‘However, now that you are aware of the situation, clearly you will appreciate that the first priority must be Ben’s wellbeing.’


Lizzy’s expression tightened. Did he think she didn’t know that?


‘How long are we going to have stay here?’


The question blurted from her.


There was a pause before the Prince answered her. Lizzy didn’t care if she’d offended him, or annoyed him by asking a question of him like that. Simply being in the same room with him was just too embarrassing for her to want anything but to minimise the time she had to endure it. Besides, she didn’t want to leave Ben on his own any longer than she had to.


‘It is expected that the news story will break any day,’ Prince Enrico informed her tersely. ‘I doubt that it can be put off any longer. As for how long the story will run—’ He took a sharp intake of breath. ‘That depends on how much the press are fed.’


Lizzy’s eyes sparked. Was that some kind of sly remark about whethershe would talk to any journalists when she got back home again?


But the Prince was speaking still.


‘The press feed off each other, each trying to outdo the other, rehashing each other’s stories, then seeking to add their own exclusive “revelation” to milk the story as much as they can, for as long as they can. It’s cheap copy.’


There was a bitter note in his voice she would have had to be deaf not to hear. It was obvious he was speaking from experience. For a moment she felt a tinge of sympathy for him, then she pushed it aside. Prince Rico of San Lucenzo had not had his playboy lifestyle forced upon him, and if he didn’t like being hounded by the press he shouldn’t live the way he did. But Ben was innocent, a small child.


She could feel her fiercely protective maternal instincts take over. Ben was not responsible for his parentage. So Prince Paolo of San Lucenzo had taken a shine to Maria, had an affair with her, and got her pregnant—well, that was not Ben’s fault.


‘How long will we have to stay here?’ she urged again.


‘As long as is necessary. I can say no more than that.’ His expression changed. ‘I am returning to San Lucenzo this morning. I must report on the situation to my father. You and my nephew will stay here. You will be well looked after, naturally, but you will not be allowed to leave the house and gardens.’


Lizzy frowned. ‘You don’t imagine Iwant to run into any journalists, do you?’


‘Nevertheless.’ There was a note of implacability in the Prince’s voice.


Lizzy looked at him. Did the Ceraldis think that shewanted this nightmare to be true? Did they really think she would do anything to make what was already a horrible situation worse by talking to the press?


Well, it didn’t matter what Prince Rico or any of the Ceraldi family thought about her intentions. Right now she was in no position to do anything other than accept that she and Ben could not be at home, and she might as well be relieved—if not actually grateful—that the Ceraldis had moved so swiftly to get her and Ben away.


‘However—’ The Prince had started speaking again, addressing her in that same terse, impersonal tone, but he broke off abruptly.‘Si?’


His head swivelled to the door, which had opened silently. A man stood there, quite young, but tough and muscularlooking, despite his sober dark suit. He looked like a bodyguard, Lizzy realised. He said something in low, rapid Italian, and the Prince nodded curtly. Then he turned back to Lizzy.


‘I am informed my plane is on standby and has air traffic clearance. Excuse me. I must leave.’


Lizzy watched him go. It was frustrating not to know how long she would have to stay here, but presumably not even the San Lucenzan royal family could know exactly what the press would do, or how long it would take for the story to die away.


Her mouth tightened. Had Prince Enrico really implied that she might try and talk to the press herself? It was the very last thing on earth she’d do.


She gave a mental shrug. There was no point her getting angry over it. Royals lived in a goldfish bowl; their wariness was understandable.


She went back to Ben, next door. He seemed to be taking all this in his stride, and she was grateful. Nor did he seem bothered by their enforced incarceration.


He seemed to take the following days in his stride too. They were left very much to themselves. Captain Falieri and the man who was probably Prince Enrico’s bodyguard had disappeared as well, and she saw no sign of anyone else in the house except for the efficient Italian-speaking staff.


She was glad of the time to herself. Her mind seemed completely split in two. On the one hand she was as normal as she could be with Ben—playing with him, reading to him, taking him swimming, to his huge excitement, in the covered swimming pool built into a conservatory-style annexe off the main house—but inside her head her thoughts teemed with emotion.


She was still reeling from it all, but she did her best to hide it from Ben. He was, thank heavens, far too young to understand. He took what had happened at face value, absorbing it into his life as naturally as he had anything else, just as when they’d moved to Cornwall. The centre of his life was her, not his surroundings, and providing she was there, everything, for him, was as it should be.


It was inevitable, however, Lizzy acknowledged, that Ben would ask questions about the man who had so unnecessarily told him that he was his uncle.


‘Where has he gone?’ Ben asked.


‘To Italy.’ Lizzy told him. ‘That’s where he lives.’


‘Will he come back?’


‘I don’t think so, Ben.’


Inwardly she cursed the man. Why had he gone and told Ben he was his uncle? Obviously a child would be interested—especially one who had no other relations. But what possible concern was Ben to Prince Enrico, other than being the unfortunate target of a salacious news story which threatened scandal to the San Lucenzan royal family?


Ben frowned. ‘Well, what about Captain Fally-eery? Will he come back? He played trains with me.’


Lizzy shook her head. ‘I don’t think he’ll come back either, Ben. He lives in Italy too.’ Deliberately, she changed the subject. ‘Now, shall we go and have our tea?’


Ben looked at her. ‘Is this a hotel, Mummy, where they cook for you?’


She nodded. ‘Sort of.’ It seemed the easiest explanation to give.


‘I like it here,’ said Ben decidedly, looking around him approvingly. ‘I like the swimming pool. Can we swim again after tea?’


‘We’ll see,’ said Lizzy.





Rico stood at one of the windows of his apartments in the palace. It gave a dazzling view over the marina, with its brightly lit-up yachts, and the elegant promenade beyond. Paolo’s apartments had been nearby, and had enjoyed similar views. His eyes shadowed.


To think that Paolo’s young son was alive in England. That he had been there all along, brought up by a woman who did not even know who he was. It seemed incredible.


His thoughts went back to that ramshackle cottage he’d extracted his nephew from. His eyes darkened. It had shocked him to find Paolo’s son living in such conditions.


Paolo’s son.


He had known it the instant he had set eyes on him. And so he had told Luca.


‘There won’t be any need for DNA tests,’ he’d told him.


‘Well, they’ll be done anyway. It’s necessary.’


Rico had shrugged. He could understand it, but he also knew that when his family saw Ben in the flesh they would know instantly he was Paolo’s child.


‘And this aunt? What about her?’ Luca had gone on.


‘Shocked. That’s understandable. She really seemed to have no idea at all.’ He’d decided not to tell his brother that she’d failed to recognise him. Luca would find that darkly humorous.


‘Can’t believe her luck, more likely. She’s got it made now.’ There had been a cynical note in Luca’s voice, and Rico frowned in recollection. Ben’s aunt had given no indication of any emotion other than disbelief, and dread of the impending news story.


Then Luca had picked up one of the modelling shots of Maria Mitchell that was in the dossier Falieri had compiled, and glanced at it.


‘Blonde bimbo like the sister?’ he’d asked casually.


Rico had snorted. ‘You’re joking. Utterly plain.’


His brother had laughed sardonically. ‘Well, at least that should stop the press being interested in her, and that’s all to the good. She won’t make good copy if she’s nothing to look at.’


Rico, his attention half taken by the latest version of a particular super-car that he liked to drive, which was wending its way along the edge of the marina, found himself frowning again at Luca’s comment. It was a cruel way to speak about the girl, even if it was true.


He shifted his mind away from her. Ben’s aunt was a complication that would be sorted out very soon now.


His father, during a brief interview with him, had made his wishes clear. And his instructions.


‘I leave you to handle the matter,’ his father had said.


Rico’s mouth twisted. He need not take it as a compliment. As Luca had pointed out, ‘It has to be you, Rico. You’re the only one of us that can come and go freely. And besides—’ the sardonic glint had been clear in his brother’s eye ‘—if there’s a female in the equation you’re the expert—just as well she’s plain, mind you. You’ll be immune to her.’


He stepped away from the The woman who was his nephew’s aunt was of no concern to him.


Only his nephew.





The news story on Paolo Ceraldi’s unknown son broke the following morning. The lurid exclusive in a French tabloid was instantly picked up, and exactly the kind of media feeding frenzy ensued that his father so deplored. As Rico knew too well from personal experience, when he had been the subject of press attention.


There was nothing to be done about it except ignore it. His father ordered a policy of silence, and to carry on as if nothing had happened. The royal family’s public life was not altered in any way. Rico’s mother attended her usual opera, ballet and philharmonia performances, his father carried out his customary duties and Luca his. As for himself, he flew down to southern Africa to participate in a gruelling long-distance rally, as he always did at this time of year.


‘No comment,’ became his only words in half a dozen s during the checkpoints, and he couldn’t wait to get back into the driving seat and head out across the savannah again.


But there was something else he couldn’t wait to do either. Get back to his nephew again. He was counting the days.

 
 

 

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ÇÝÊÑÇÖí chapter 4

 

CHAPTER FOUR


LIZZY walked into the breakfast room and stopped dead. Prince Enrico was sitting at the table.


She’d had absolutely no idea that he was here.


At her side, Ben showed only pleasure.


‘Tio Rico! You came back.’


Lizzy watched the Prince lever his long frame upright.


‘Of course. Especially to see you.’


Ben’s expression perked expectantly.


‘Will you play with me?’


‘After breakfast. Would you like to go swimming later?’


‘Yes, please.’


‘Good. Well, let’s have breakfast first, shall we?’


He waited pointedly while Lizzy took her place, Ben beside her, before resuming his.


Lizzy watched as Ben chatted to his uncle. Tension laced through her instantly. He must have arrived back late last night. She had heard nothing.


But then she did not stay up late. In the strange, dislocated days she had spent here she had always retired with Ben, after supper, and once he was bathed and asleep she would spend the time in their room reading. The house came with a wellstocked library, and she was grateful for it. She had made a point of not watching television, quite deliberately. She had not wanted to catch anything of whatever the press might be saying by now about her sister and Ben. She didn’t want to think about it.


But now, with Prince Enrico sitting at the head of the breakfast table, it all suddenly seemed horribly real again.


Her eyes had gone to him immediately as she’d entered the room—but then it would have been difficult for them to do otherwise, prince or no prince. He was the kind of man that drew all eyes instantly. She felt again that squirming awkwardness go through her, and wished that she and Ben had got up earlier, and so missed this ordeal.


Not that Ben thought it was an ordeal, evidently. He was chatting away with his uncle, and Lizzy felt her mouth tighten with disapproval.


‘There is a problem?’


The accented voice was cool. Lizzy realised that Prince Enrico was looking at her.


‘Why are you here? Has something happened? Something worse?’


Her voice was staccato, and probably sounded abrupt. She didn’t care.


A frowning expression formed on his face.


‘Is there more bad news?’ Lizzy persisted.


‘Other than what was expected? No. Did you not see any of the coverage?’


‘No. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But in which case, if nothing worse has happened, why are you here?’


He looked at her. He had that closed expression on his face. Obviously he wasn’t used to being spoken to like that, thought Lizzy. But she didn’t care. Tension bit in her.


‘I am here at the behest of my father. For reasons that must be obvious even to yourself, Miss Mitchell.’


His words were terse.


She looked blank. ‘I don’t understand.’


His mouth pressed together tightly, and he looked impatiently at her.


‘We will discuss this matter later.’ He turned his attention back to Ben. Shutting her out.


Dismissing her.


Anxiety and tension warred within her.


How she got through breakfast she did not know. She could not relax, and, although she deplored it, she knew she was grateful that Ben was chattering away to the Prince, making it possible for her to swallow a few morsels of food through a tight throat.


The moment Ben had finished, she got to her feet.


‘Come along, Ben,’ she said.


‘Tio Rico said we’d go swimming,’ Ben protested.


‘Not straight after eating,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ll get a sore tummy. And anyway, you need to brush your teeth,’ she added, steering him out of the room.


As she gained the large hallway, she felt her stomach sink. Oh, God, now what? Why had he come back here? And why should it beobvious to her? Nothing was obvious to her. Nothing. Only that she was desperate for all this to be over, and for her to be able to go home with Ben.


But it seemed that she would have to get through another morning here.


After Ben had brushed his teeth they went back down to the drawing room, where Ben’s toys were.


Prince Enrico was there before them. Lizzy tensed immediately.


‘This is a good train track, Ben,’ he said.


Ben trotted forward eagerly. ‘My one at home is bigger, because we didn’t bring all the pieces. And some of the engines are at home. But I will tell you who these are that I’ve got here.’ He settled himself down by the track and started to regale the Prince, who had hunkered down.


Abruptly, Lizzy snapped her eyes away from the way the material of his immaculately cut trousers strained over powerful thighs.


Oh, God—isn’t it bad enough that he’s a prince?


She sat herself down on the sofa. Would the man never clear off?


It seemed not. To Lizzy’s dismay, he seemed to be settling himself in. She picked up her book. Ben was happily chattering away, talking about his beloved trainset. She tried to concentrate on her book, and failed completely.


After what seemed like for ever, Ben suddenly stood up.


‘Is it time to go swimming yet?’


She got to her feet, relieved. ‘Good idea. Let’s get your things.’ She gave an awkward nod to the Prince, who had stood when she did.


She scurried off with Ben. But to her dismay, when they came back downstairs with the swimming kit and went into the pool room, there was already someone in the water.


The Prince’s long, lean body cut through the water in a swift crawl, but when he reached the end of the pool he stopped.


‘Ah, Ben, there you are,’ he said. ‘In you come.’


Lizzy stared in horrified fascination. The Prince had half levered himself out of the water, his arms folded down over the edge. She could see the water draining off his torso.


It was smooth, and perfectly muscled, honed like a sportsman.


She tore her eyes away. Ben was scrambling out of his clothes as fast as he could. With gritted teeth she inflated his armbands and slid them over his arms.


‘Hurry, hurry,’ said Ben, jiggling around. The moment he was fitted, he ran and jumped into the water.


Jerkily, Lizzy picked up his clothes, and went to sit on one of the padded seats that were dotted by the glass wall.


Thank God I wasn’t in the water already.


That would have been the ultimate horror. She sat, feeling far too hot in what she was wearing in this sun-heated area, but there was nothing she could do about it. She felt her cheeks grow flushed as she watched Ben playing in the water.


The Prince seemed ludicrously enthusiastic about entertaining a four-year-old child. He ducked and dived and raced, and pounced on Ben like a shark, eliciting squeals of glee.


She felt resentment and anger mounting in her. What was the point? What was thepoint of Prince Enrico doing this? It would just unsettle Ben, that was all. Make him want something that he wasn’t going to have.


He hasn’t got a father. He hasn’t got an uncle. He hasn’t got anyone—he’s just got me.


And it wasn’t fair on him to let him get a taste of what it might be like if he had a father. A father to play with him, to pay attention to him.


Make him laugh the way he was laughing now.


I want to go home. I just want to go home. I want this over. Done with. Forgotten.





Rico helped Ben out of the pool for the last time, and glanced across at where his aunt was sitting. Her face had gone red in the heat, and she looked worse than ever. She also had a face like sour milk.


His brother’s words came back to him, half-taunting, halfmocking—which was Luca’s usual attitude towards him on this subject.


‘If there’s a female in the equation you’re the expert—just as well she’s plain, mind you. You’ll be immune to her.’


Well, the latter was true. No doubt about that. With a dispassionate mind he could only feel sorry for any female as unattractive as this one. But as someone he actually had to deal with, however briefly, he could do without it. As for the former—well, females of this variety were definitely ones he was not expert in.


He launched himself out of the pool, effortlessly lifting himself on his arms. The boy’s aunt had already busied herself wrapping Ben in a towel and getting him dry. He strolled off to get changed himself, in the cabanas provided for the purpose.


His mouth set. The sooner he’d settled the business here and was back in San Lucenzo the better.


But it had been good to start getting to know Ben.


Paolo’s son.


His expression softened


I’ll make sure he’s OK, Paolo—I promise you.





Lunch had been just as much an ordeal as breakfast. Once again, the source of both her concern and her relief had been that Ben had dominated the proceedings, talking nineteen to the dozen to Prince Enrico. All she’d been required to do was sit there and try to eat through a throat that was getting tighter every moment.


What had happened? Why was Prince Enrico back here? He’d said he’d talk to her later—but when was later?


It was after lunch, it transpired. As they left the dining room he turned to her.


‘Settle Ben with some toys, if you please. I shall await you in the library.’


‘He has a nap after lunch. I’ll come down when he’s asleep.’


He gave a curt nod, and she took Ben upstairs, nerves jumping.


Typically, Ben took for ever to go to sleep, and her nerves were stretched thin by the time she could finally leave him, curtains closed, door ajar, and head downstairs.


He was, as he had said, in the library. A raft of daily papers, in both English and Italian, were on the low table, and he was sitting in a leather chair perusingThe Times.


Surely such a respectable newspaper had not carried such a scurrilous story? she wondered.


But the page he was reading seemed to be about international politics. He cast the paper aside and stood up, indicating the chair opposite him, across the hearth of the unlit fire.


‘Please sit down.’ His voice was cool..


She sat nervously, stomach knoting.


‘We must resolve, as a matter of urgency, as I am sure you will appreciate, the matter of my nephew’s future.’


Lizzy stared.


‘What do you mean?’ she said.


A flicker of irritation showed briefly in the dark eyes, then it was suppressed.


‘I appreciate,’ he said carefully to her—as if, Lizzy thought, she was stupid, ‘that the news of Ben’s parentage has come as a profound shock to you. Nevertheless, I must ask you to focus on the implications of that discovery. Like yourself, his father’s family were, unfortunately, but in the tragic circumstances understandably, equally unaware that Paolo had a son. Now that this is no longer the case, obviously steps will be taken as soon as possible to rectify the situation.’


She was still staring blankly.


‘Rectify?’ she echoed.


She saw him take a breath. ‘Of course. Ben will now make his life in San Lucenzo.’


Cold went down Lizzy’s back. She could feel it—as if her spine was turning to ice.


‘No.’


The word was instinctive. Automatic.


She saw the Prince’s face first tighten, then take on the same expression that it had had when she had failed to recognise him. Disbelieving.


She didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything. Except to refute, absolutely, what she had just heard him say.


His expression changed, as if he were making a visible effort. Again he addressed her as if she were stupid.


‘Miss Mitchell, do you really not understand that your nephew’s circumstances have changed now?’ His tone, quite blatantly, was patronising, and Lizzy felt her hackles rise through the ice in her spine. ‘It is inconceivable that my brother’s orphaned son should live anywhere but in his own country.’


She stared at him.


‘I can’t believe you’re saying that,’ she cut across him. ‘We’re going home—back to Cornwall the moment we can. The sooner the better.’


She saw his face tighten.


‘That is no longer possible.’ His voice was flat. Implacable.


‘What do you mean “no longer possible”?’ she demanded. Her voice was rising, she could tell, and she could feel the adrenaline churning in her system. ‘Ben and I are going home. That’s all there is to it.’


‘Ben’s home will now have to be in San Lucenzo.’


The voice was still flat, still implacable.


‘There’s no “have to” about it. Noquestion of it!’


Dark, long-lashed eyes stared at her.


‘Miss Mitchell—are you being deliberately obtuse?’ The question was rhetorical, for he plunged straight on. ‘There is no going back. Do you not understand that? Your nephew cannot return to the life you gave him. He must come to his own country to live.’


She leant forward, tension in every line of her body.


‘This is ridiculous. Absurd,’ she responded vehemently. Emotion was surging through her. ‘Completely out of the question. I can understand your reaction to the nightmare of this news story, and I have my sympathies for you and your family. If there is one thing I do feel sorry about for royalty, it’s that their private lives are raked over by the press—even when they do not conspicuously court such publicity,’ she threw in, with a glancing look in her eyes at him that drew an answering flash and a compression of his mouth. But she allowed him no time to interrupt her. ‘If anything, Ben’s presence in San Lucenzo could only be an further embarrassment to you. Why on earth would your family want to be landed with your late brother’s illegitimate child—” love child”, as I suppose the tabloids will coyly call him—as an ever-present reminder of his affair with my sister? Look,’ she went on, trying to be reasonable, even with the adrenaline running in her like a river in flood, ‘if you are worried that I might, God help me, be insane enough to speak to the press at any point in the future, then I’ll sign any gagging papers you want. Theonly thing I want for Ben is a happy, unspoilt childhood. He can’t help his parentage, and I won’t let it affect him adversely.’


He was staring at her again. She wished he wouldn’t do that. Not just because his eyes were the most extraordinary she’d ever seen, but because he was looking at her as if she were from another planet.


His mouth tightened. Italian broke from him, angry and incomprehensible.


Then, as if he were making a monumental effort to control his reaction, he spoke again, and she stared wildly at him, stomach churning.


‘You do not seem to understand. My brother didnot have an affair with your sister.’


‘But you’ve just said—’ she launched.


His hand shot up, silencing her.


His dark eyes were completely opaque again.


‘He married her.’


Lizzy felt her mouth fall open. Her jaw drop like a stone. With numb, unconscious effort she closed it again, then spoke.


‘My sistermarried your brother?’ Her voice was dazed.


‘Yes. The day before their fatal car crash. I have seen the marriage certificate. It is…’ he paused ‘…quite legal. Apparently—’ his voice was as dry as sand ‘—the name Ceraldi was also unknown to the celebrant.’


She got to her feet, staring at him blindly.


‘I don’t believe it.’


It was denial again. Just the same as when the man standing in front of her had told her he was a royal prince—and so had his brother been.


And if Maria had married him that meant Ben was—


No—no, it could not be. It was impossible. Ben was just…Ben, that was all.


But if her sister had been married to his father, and his father was a prince of San Lucenzo, then Ben…


She sat down. Her legs felt weightless somehow.


‘It’s not true.’ Her voice was faint. Her eyes wide. She stared across at him. ‘Please—please say it isn’t true. Please.’





Rico looked at her. She could not have meant what she’d just said. No one could. Certainly no woman in her situation could mean it. She had just been told that her nephew was a royal prince. And yet she was begging him to tell her it was not true.


He inhaled sharply.


‘It is hardly a subject for jest. And now that you know, you must realise why there is no question but that Ben be brought up in his own country, with his own family.’


Her eyes blazed with sudden fierce light.


‘I don’t care if you tell me that Ben is the King of Siam. I’m not uprooting him from his own life, from everything he knows. Sowhat if heis legitimate? Your brother Paolo was the youngest brother, so Ben isn’t going to inherit the throne or anything, is he?’


The strident voice grated on Rico’s already stretched nerves. The girl’s reaction was incomprehensible. Was she particularly unintelligent? It seemed he would have to spell everything out to her.


‘A royal prince of the house of Ceraldi cannot be brought up as a private citizen in a foreign country.’ He spoke heavily, hoping to God the damn woman would finally get through her skull what the reality of the situation was. ‘He must be raised by his family—’


‘Iam his family.’


Rico’s face closed.


‘You are his aunt. Nothing more than that. I appreciate that you have worked very hard to raise my brother’s son, and—’


Her strident voice interrupted him again. Rico felt his impatience mounting. It was not just her unbelievable pig-headedness and her exasperating lack of intelligence that got to him, but her appalling habit of cutting across him.


Her eyes were stabbing at him, and she was getting ludicrously worked up.


‘I am Ben’s legal guardian. He is solely my responsibility.’


Rico fought for self-control. ‘Then, as his legal guardian, you will want the best for him, no? And clearly—’ he tried hard to keep the withering sarcasm out of his voice ‘—Ben’s interests will be served by his being raised by his father’s family.’ And now the sarcasm did creep in. He couldn’t stop it, such were the emotions biting through him at the woman’s incomprehensible objections. ‘Or did you imagine it would be suitable for my brother’s son to be raised in a semi-derelict peasant cottage?’


A line of colour leached out across her cheeks, and Rico, despite his mounting temper, felt a stab of regret. She could not help being poor, and she had, after all, done the best she could for Paolo’s son, within her means.


But that was irrelevant now. Whether she liked it or not, she had to accept the truth of the matter—the Ceraldis had a new prince, and his place was with them. Swiftly, he moved on. His father had given him full authority to do whatever was necessary to ensure Ben returned to San Lucenzo as soon as possible.


He held up a hand, forestalling any further comeback from her.


‘Miss Mitchell—the matter is not open for debate. I make allowances for your sense of shock, but you must face up to the necessity of the situation. My nephew must go to San Lucenzo with the minimum of delay to start his new life. You must see that.’


She shook her head wildly.


‘No, I don’t. I don’t see anything of the sort. You can’t possibly think his life should be turned upside down like that.’


Rico pressed his mouth together, willing himself to stay calm.


‘And you, Miss Mitchell, cannot possibly think that Ben’s life will not be immeasurably better when he is surrounded by his family. What possible justification can you have for your objection? How can you possibly not welcome this? You live in poverty—all that has changed. Changed completely. Have you not realised that?’


His eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he watched for her reaction. But her face just seemed totally blank. Obviously he would need to be blunter, distasteful though it was.


‘You will not suffer by the change in Ben’s life, Miss Mitchell. You will always be his aunt, and, although Ben’s new life will inevitably be vastly different from what he has been used to so far, you will benefit too. It would not be appropriate for my nephew’s aunt to live in poverty,’ he said carefully, his eyes watching her. ‘Therefore generous financial arrangements will be made in your favour, in appreciation for what you have done for my nephew. You have given up four years of your life to look after him—it is only right that your invaluable contribution should be recognised. But now you will be able to resume the life of a young woman, independent of the responsibilities you have had to assume up till now.’


His eyes rested on her as he waited for the penny to drop. But her face was still quite expressionless.


It irritated Rico. Did he have to spelleverything out in excruciatingly vulgar detail? Evidently so. His mouth tightened. He took a controlled breath, and prepared to speak again.


But before he could say anything she got to her feet.


It was a jerky movement, like an automaton. Her eyes were pinned on his. There was something in them that took him aback. Then she spoke. Her voice was strange.


‘You do not seriously think I am going to let you part me from Ben, do you?’


She was trembling like a wire strung out to breaking point.


Emotion poured through her, terror and fury storming together.


They spilled over into a torrent of words.


‘Do you really think I would ever,ever allow Ben to be taken from me? Do you? How can you even imagine that for a moment? I’m hismother —the only mother he’s ever known.’


A burning, punishing breath seared through her lungs. ‘Listen to me and listen well. Because I will say this over and over again until I get you to understand it. I am Ben’s mother—his guardian. And that means I guard him—I guard him from anything and everything that threatens him, threatens his happiness, his emotional and physical well-being, his long-term stability…everything. I love him more than my own life—I could not love him more if he were my birth child. He is all I have left of my sister, and I made a vow to her that I would keep her child safe, that I would be the mother to him that she was not allowed to be. He is my son and I am his mother. It woulddevastate him to be taken from me—how could you eventhink of doing so? Nothing will come between us. I will never let him be taken from me.Never .’


Her face was contorted, but she could not stop. She had to make him listen—had to make him hear.


‘You must be completely insane to think of taking him from me. How do you evenbegin to think I would consent to it? Consent to Ben losing the only mother he’s known. Are you mad, or just evil, even tothink of separating us? No one takes a child from its mother.No one .’ She shut her eyes. Her throat was burning, her breath choking. ‘Oh, God, how could this nightmare ever have happened. How?’


Her anguished question rang into silence, complete silence. She stood there, shaking like a leaf.


Then, slowly, a voice spoke. Deep and resonant.


‘No one will take Ben from you. You have my word.’





Rico was in his bedroom. The phone was against his ear. He stood with one arm extended, resting his hand on the folded wooden shutters that framed the sash windows. From where he stood he could see the gardens. Ben and his aunt were on the lawn, in the last of the early-evening sunshine, playing football. Two goals were roughly marked out with sticks. Ben kicked, and scored, and ran around gleefully in imitation of professional footballers. His aunt threw up her hands in exaggerated defeat, and took a goal kick. It was a very bad one, and Ben returned it instantly, scoring yet another goal. He crowed with triumph.


At the other end of the phone line, Rico’s brother was speaking.


‘What do you mean, she won’t give him up? She’s nothing more than his aunt—what claim can she have?’


‘A watertight legal one,’ replied Rico dryly.


There was a pause. Then Luca spoke.


‘She wants more money, I take it?’ His voice was sharp.


‘She wants her son.’ Rico realised his voice was equally sharp.


‘The boy is only hernephew ,’ riposted his brother.


‘She’s raised him as her son, and he regards her as his mother. Which, legally, she is. She adopted him at birth. So, if she does not want to part with him, we have to accept that.’


There was a pause again.


‘How much did you offer her?’ Luca asked.


‘Luca—this is notabout money. She’s not prepared to consider it, OK?’ He paused, then spoke again. ‘And neither am I any longer. The attachment between them is definitely that of mother and child. I’ve been with them all day—so far as Paolo’s son is concerned, the woman is his mother. There’s nothing we can do about that. We may not like it, but that’s the way it is. Our only way forward is for her to live in San Lucenzo with the boy. I have to persuade her of that, and I will do my best to do so. But—’he took a sharp breath ‘—I gave her my word we would not try and take the child from her.’


There was another pause. Outside in the garden Ben was still playing football. Rico felt a sudden urge to go and join in.


Luca was speaking again. ‘Rico, do and say nothing for the moment. I’ll report this back to our father. He won’t like it but…’ Rico could almost hear Luca shrug. ‘Look, I’ll phone you back.’


The line went dead. Rico’s gaze dropped again to the figure playing on the lawn below with Ben. She was wearing some kind of grey tracksuit, baggy and shapeless, and her frizzy hair was tied back in an unflattering bunch. She looked overweight and lumpy. She really was extraordinarily unappealing. Yet what did her appearance matter to Ben? Even as he watched, he saw Ben trip as he ran to intercept the ball, and fall sprawlingly on the grass. She was there in an instant, hugging him, inspecting his grass-stained knee, then dropping a kiss on it before resuming play again. An ordinary maternal gesture. Memory shafted through him. Or rather, lack of it. Who had picked him up when he’d gone sprawling like that? A nanny? Whichever of the nursery floor staff was looking after him at the time? Not his mother. He’d only ever seen his mother at five in the afternoon, when she had taken tea and interviewed both himself and Luca as to their progress in lessons that day.


A frown creased his brow. Paolo had been the only one of them ever to sit beside his mother on the exquisite silk-upholstered sofa in her sitting room. The only one of them he could remember her embracing.


He felt his heart squeeze again. He would bring her Paolo’s son.


He glanced at his watch. He doubted Luca would phone back within the hour. Time enough for Rico to teach his nephew some football moves. He headed downstairs.





‘It’s no good, Ben, it’s definitely bedtime.’


‘Mummy—one more goal. Just one.’


‘Golden goal,’ said Rico.


‘All right, then,’ conceded Lizzy.


She had just passed the strangest half-hour. Out of nowhere, the Prince had emerged on to the lawn and joined in their game of football. Or rather taken it over.


Ben was ecstatic.


‘You can ref, Mummy,’ he instructed her.


She sat in a heap at the side of the pitch area, and watched. Her emotions were still in turmoil, but at least she was calmer than she had been.


You have my word,he had said.


Did he mean it?


He had seemed different when he’d said that to her. She didn’t know why, or how, but he had.


And he’d looked at her. Looked at her into her eyes.


As if she were a real person suddenly.


And something had happened in that look. Something that for the first time had made the hard, fearful knot inside her ease.


Just by a fraction.


Something had changed.


Something had changed as she’d poured out her horror and terror in front of him. Telling him—screaming at him—that she would never let Ben be taken from her, that she was his mother by everything but physical birth. That she would never, ever, let such harm come to him as to be wrested from the only person he knew to be his mother.


Who had been the only person in the world to him.


Until now.


She felt emotion move and shift within her.


A pang went through her. Yes, she was Ben’s mother—she would be all her life. Nothing could ever change that.


But now he’s got an uncle. Two uncles. And grandparents too.


A family.


A family to whom Ben was not just the embarrassing result of an affair—someone they would wash their hands of, hide away out of sight.


They wanted him. They wanted him because he was the son of their dead son, their dead brother.


Emotion twisted within her.


If they were anything other than what they are, I’d be overjoyed at their discovering Ben’s existence.


But that was the trouble. Theywere who they were. It was unbelievable, unreal—and the truth.


Depression rolled over her. Whichever way you looked at it, the whole situation was impossible.


Anguish filled her. There could be no resolution to this. How could there be? Two worlds had collided—the normal world, and the world the Ceraldis lived in. A world that was totally unreal to everyone except themselves.


And Ben was caught in the middle. Crushed between them.


And so was she.

 
 

 

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ÇÝÊÑÇÖí chapter5

 

CHAPTER FIVE


RICO stared at his brother. He had been summoned back to San Lucenzo the following morning, and now that he was here Luca had dropped a bombl on him.


‘This is a joke, right? And, as such, it isn’t funny.’


The Crown Prince of San Lucenzo looked back at him with dispassionate eyes. He was good at dispassion, thought Rico viciously. Great at dispensing insane ideas as if they were commonplace, obvious no-brainers.


‘It would solve the problem we are facing.’


‘Are you mad? It’s not a question of solving problems—this is about mylife . And I amnot about to sacrifice it for the reasons you think I should.’


‘It’s hardly a permanent sacrifice. Besides, I thought you said you had really taken to the boy.’


Rico’s eyes flashed angrily.


‘That doesn’t mean I have to—’


His brother held up his hand. ‘Yes, I understand. But listen, Rico—what other option is there? She’s the legal guardian of Paolo’s son. She won’t relinquish the boy. You’re saying that the only way for us to have Paolo’s son is to have her as well. But how? Wecannot have an English unmarried mother, a commoner, whose father kept a shop, living here with legal responsibility for a child who just happens to be our nephew and therefore a royal prince.’ His face tightened. ‘It will cause serious problems of protocol and security. What I’ve suggested cuts those problems right out.’ Both the tone of his voice and his expression changed. ‘I don’t have to tell you that your cooperation in this matter would be appreciated by our father.’


He pressed on.


‘We’re talking a year—eighteen months at the most. That’s all, Rico. Enough to serve the proprieties. Make everything watertight.’


His eyes rested on his younger brother.


‘You’re always talking about having a more active role in affairs. Wanting to take on responsibilities. All your life you’ve chafed at being the “spare”. Well, now you can do something about that. No one else can do this, Rico—only you. You know that. Only you.’


There was an intensity in Luca’s gaze that bored into Rico. For a long, endless moment Rico met his brother’s eyes. Then, with a curse, he broke away.


‘Damn you for this, Luca.’


Luca raised sardonic eyebrows. ‘Damn me all you like—but do this for us all,’ he retorted coolly.


His brother’s voice, when he replied, was even cooler. ‘I’ll do it for Paolo,’ he said.





The sleek, powerful car ate up the miles between the airfield and the rented house. But for Rico it was still too slow. He wanted to drive faster—much faster.


And in the opposite direction.


Instead, he was heading into a cage. He was going to have to put his head into a noose and let it be pulled tight.


His mood was grim. At his side, in the passenger seat, Falieri kept silent. Rico appreciated it. Falieri had been fully briefed, he knew, either by Luca or their father, and he knew exactly what Rico was about to do.


‘Tell me I’m insane,’ Rico demanded.


‘It makes sense, what you are going to do,’ Falieri said quietly.


‘Does it?’ Rico retorted bitterly. ‘Keep reminding me of that, will you?’


‘You are doing it for the boy,’ said Falieri. ‘And for your late brother.’


‘Keep reminding me of that too—’ said Rico.


He slammed on the brakes and changed gear viciously, ready to turn off the road.


Heading into that noose.





Ben greeted him excitedly, rushing to him with a cry of pleasure. Rico scooped him up. The boy’s little arms wound around his neck, his sturdy body strong against Rico’s chest. The hard, tight band around his lungs seemed to lighten fractionally.


I can do this. I can do it for Paolo. I can do it for Ben.


Gently, he lowered his nephew to the ground again. His eyes slid past him to the figure standing there, looking as out of place as she always did.


Dio, she looked worse than ever. Her skin had gone mottled, and her hair seemed frizzier than ever. She was wearing faded cotton trousers and an ill fitting top.


Revulsion raced through him.


He crushed the instinctive rejection. He’d committed to this course of action and there was no way out now. It might be insane—but he’d said he’d do it.


And there was no point putting it off. He had to do it now, before his feet hardened into ice. So, as he lowered Ben to the floor, he made himself look at her again.


‘How have you been?’ he asked.


She gave a half-shrug and didn’t quite meet his eyes. She never did, he realised. Except that time when she had laid into him about being Ben’s legal guardian and never parting from him.


His expression sobered. The intensity of her reaction had shocked him. More than shocked him. It had made him realise, for the first time since discovering about Paolo’s son, that it didn’t matter that the girl was only Ben’s biological aunt—in emotional reality she was much, much more.


And she was right. Completely and indisputably right. To take Ben from her would be an unspeakable cruelty to the child. And to her—and she did not deserve that.


It must have been hard, taking on an orphaned child all on her own, in her circumstances.


‘How did your father take it?’ She swallowed. ‘The fact that I won’t let Ben be parted from me?’


He could hear the tension in her voice, like wires around her throat.


He looked at her.


‘Another way of resolving the situation has been arrived at.’


Her eyes flashed.


‘Anything involving taking Ben from me is—’


He held up a hand, silencing her.


‘That will not happen. However,’ he spoke heavily, steeling himself to do so, ‘this is not the place to discuss this matter.’ He cast a speaking look at Ben, who had gone back to his trainset, to rearrange some points. ‘Have you dined?’


She pressed her lips together. ‘I eat with Ben,’ she said. ‘It saves the staff doing two meals.’


‘Very considerate,’ said Rico dryly. ‘Well, I have not. So I suggest that I do so while Ben is in his bath and then, when he is asleep, you will appreciate that we cannot postpone any longer a discussion about his future.’ He cast a look at her. ‘This must be done—none of us has any choice in that.’


Her expression had become strained, and she looked away. Ben piped up, and Rico was grateful.


‘I’ve finished the track now—come and play,’ he invited him. ‘Let’s race engines.’


Rico grinned, his face lightening.


‘A race? Then prepare to be beaten, young man.’


For his pains he got a withering look. ‘Silly you. I’ve got the express train,’ he told Rico pityingly.


Out of the corner of his eye, Rico saw Ben’s aunt slip away. He settled down to play with his nephew. It was a lot easier when she wasn’t around.


Then he remembered what he had committed to do, and he felt his heart sink like lead. Even for Paolo’s sake, this was going to be excruciating.





Ben was asleep, drifting off even as she finished reading his bedtime story to him. Usually Lizzy just had a bath herself, then read until she fell asleep. Ben woke early, and there was no question of a lie-in. So she never minded early nights.


But tonight she had to go downstairs again.


And face the Prince.


Her stomach knotted itself. She couldn’t see what his solution might be—how this nightmare could be resolved.


Round and round her tired head went the drearily familiar litany. Two worlds colliding—no way out. No way out.


She knew only one thing—whatever the Ceraldis wanted, they were not going to part Ben from her. Not while she had breath in her body.


Grimly, she left the door to the bedroom ajar, letting in light from the landing, and then headed downstairs.


She was shown into the drawing room, and the Prince was already there, standing staring out over the near-dark gardens, the curtains undrawn. He had a glass of brandy in his hand, Lizzy registered.


She also registered something else. Something she instantly did her best to suppress. And yet it was impossible.


Impossible for her and every other woman in the world. Impossible to ignore that he was the most drop-dead gorgeous male she’d ever seen.


Embarrassment flushed through her. It seemed wrong to be so aware of his ridiculous good-looks. She had no business being aware of them.


Yet with that brooding expression on his face he just looked even more compelling.


He turned as she advanced into the room, and his eyes rested on her.


Immediately she felt her face mottling, as it always did whenever she came into his eyeline. Making her horribly conscious of her grim appearance.


Yes, I know—I look awful. There’s nothing I can do about it. So, please, just don’t look at me.


‘Won’t you sit down?’


Awkwardly, Lizzy lowered herself on to the sofa. She watched the Prince walk across and take a seat opposite her, separated by a large square coffee table. He swirled the brandy slowly in his glass for a moment, staring down into it. Then his head lifted.


He started to speak.


‘I know you have found it very hard to accept what has happened,’ he began, his voice slow and careful, ‘but I hope that the reality of the situation has now finally sunk in. And that you have begun to appreciate that Ben’s life cannot continue as it was.’


She opened her mouth to speak, but he hadn’t finished.


‘Hear me out. Before you say anything, hear me out.’ He took a breath. It rasped in his lungs. ‘As I said, I understand that it’s difficult to accept, but you must—you have no choice. Ben is no longer the boy you thought he was. Whether you like it or not, you cannot deny his heritage. He is my brother’s son—the offspring of his marriage to your sister. The circumstances of their deaths are tragic beyond belief, but we must deal with the outcome. And the outcome is Ben—our mutual nephew and your adopted son. This is the reality. And the reality of his paternity is, therefore, that he is a prince. Nothing can change that. Not all the wishing in the world.’


His expression changed. Emotion flared in his eyes suddenly. ‘And I do not wish it. I would not wish it for a fraction of a second. Ben is a blessing—a gift from God. My dead brother’s son restored to us. No. Do not blanch.’ His voice had changed again, become measured and formal. ‘Just because he is a gift to us, to my family, it doesnot imply that he is not precious beyond price to you. Or…’ He paused, then said deliberately, ‘Or you to him. That is not the issue. I gave you my word I would not pursue any avenue of resolution to this situation that was premised upon Ben leaving your care. But…’He paused again, then resumed, with absolute emphasis on each word. ‘Youmust accept that his old life has gone. It cannot continue. Ben is a royal prince of the House of Ceraldi. Nothing can change that. His future must be based upon that fact.’ He took another sharp intake of breath. ‘And that means that he cannot live an ordinary life any more. He must come to San Lucenzo. With you.’


She had gone white, he could see. Her hands were clenched in her lap, and her breathing was uneven. But at least she was not interrupting him. He took another swift mouthful of brandy, feeling the fiery liquid burning in his throat.


He started speaking again.


‘There is no easy way out of this situation. But a way does exist. And that is what I am going to propose to you. We have a situation which urgently requires resolution. And there is a way to do so. A drastic way, but nevertheless, in the circumstances, the only way forward.’


He could feel cold pooling in his legs, slowly turning his feet to ice. He had to say this—he had to say this now. Before he cut and ran. Ran as if all the devils in hell were after him.


He stared blankly into the face of the woman sitting opposite him. A woman who was a complete stranger. But to whom hehad to say the following words.


‘We get married,’ said Rico.





She didn’t move. That was the most unnerving thing of all. She just went on sitting there, hands clenched in her lap, face white. Rico felt his guts tighten. Had he really just said what he had? Had he beenthat insane?


And yet he knew it was not insanity that had made him say the words, but something much worse.


Necessity. Because, loathe Luca as he might for what he had suggested, Rico could see the unavoidable sense of it. Theimpasse they were in was immovable. Ben and his adoptive mother came as a package—that was all there was to it. A package that had to be incorporated somehow—by whatever means, however drastic—into the fabric of the San Lucenzo royal family. Ben alone would have been no problem—but Ben with the woman who had raised him, whom he thought of as his mother and who was in the eyes of the law indeed that person, that was a whole lot more impossible to swallow.


And yet she had to be swallowed. No alternative. No choice.


And he was the one who was going to have to do it. Luca had been right, and Rico hated him for it. But it didn’t stop him being right. It would solve everything.


A marriage of convenience—for everyone except himself!


He felt his jaw set even tighter, and unconsciously his hands pressed against the rounded brandy glass. He wanted to take another mouthful, but knew he should not. He’d already drunk wine with dinner, to fortify himself, and although he wanted to drink himself into oblivion he knew it was impossible.


Why wasn’t she responding? She hadn’t moved—not a muscle. A spurt of anger went through him. Did she imagine this was easy for him? Abruptly he found himself raising the brandy glass anyway, and taking a large mouthful.


Something moved in her eyes minutely.


Then, as if a lever had suddenly been pulled, she jerked to her feet.


‘You are,’ she said, and there was something wrong with her voice, ‘completely mad.’


Rico’s eyes darkened. He might have expected this.


‘Not mad,’ he said repressively, ‘just facing facts. Sit down again, if you please.’


She sat. Rico got the feeling it was not to obey him, but because her legs wouldn’t hold her upright. The bones of her face were standing out, and the blood had drained from her skin, which now looked like whey.


‘If you marry me,’ he began, ‘a great many problems simply disappear. We have already established that your old life has gone—there can be no doubt about that. Ben is a royal prince of the House of Ceraldi, and he must be raised as such, in the land of his patrimony. He cannot be raised in this country, and he cannot be raised by you alone. But…’He took an inhalation of breath. ‘Were you to marry me, this problem would immediately disappear. You and Ben would be absorbed into the royal family as a unit, and Ben would make the easiest transition possible to his new life. You must see that.’


Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.


‘No, I don’t.’


Rico’s mouth pressed tightly.


‘I appreciate,’ he began, in that same deliberate fashion, ‘that you may find this hard to comprehend, let alone accept, but—’


‘It’s the most insane, tasteless thing I’ve ever heard.’ The words burst from her. ‘How can you say it? How can you evensay it? You can’t sit there and say something like that—youcan’t .’


Agitation shook her visibly.


Abruptly he held up a hand.


‘It is a matter of expediency, that is all.’


She was staring at him as if he were speaking Chinese. He ploughed on.


‘The marriage would take place for no other purpose than to regularise my nephew’s existence. As my wife you will become a Ceraldi, with a due place in the royal family, a rank appropriate to the adoptive mother of the Reigning Prince’s grandson. You will have a suitable place in all the events of his life. The marriage itself will be a formality, nothing more. Be assured of that.’


There was an edge in his voice, and he continued before she could interrupt him again.


‘You may also be assured that the marriage will only be temporary. Once Ben is settled into his new life, and once you are settled into yours, and can move within it in an appropriate manner, then the marriage will be annulled. We will need to observe the proprieties, but my father has agreed that he will sanction a short duration—little more than a year—after which the marriage will have served its purpose and can be dissolved.’


She was still sitting there, looking as if he’d just hit her over the head with a sledgehammer. Well, that was what hehad done, of course. He, at least, had the last forty-eight hours to accustom himself to what had been proposed as the way through theimpasse .


‘I don’t believe that you are saying what I hear you to be saying,’ she said very slowly, her voice hollow. ‘You cannot be. It’s impossible.’


Rico felt anger welling in him, and fought to subdue it.


‘I appreciate,’ he began again, ‘that this is difficult for you to fully take on board, but—’


‘Stop saying that. Stop saying I don’t understand.’ She jerked to her feet again. Her eyes were flaring with emotion. ‘What I’m saying is that it’s insane. It’sgrotesque .’


Rico’s expression froze.


‘Grotesque?’ The word echoed from him, as though it were in a foreign Hauteur filled his face. ‘In what way?’ he bit out. He got to his feet without realising it, discarding his brandy glass on a side-table as he did so.


She was staring at him wild-eyed, her face working.


‘What do you mean, “In what way?”?’ she demanded. ‘Inevery way. It’s grotesque—absolutely grotesque—to think of me marrying you.’


Cold anger filled Rico. To use such a word about such a matter—


He had taken a great deal from this woman, made allowance after allowance for her circumstances, but for her to stand there and tell him that his offer wasgrotesque —


‘Would you do me the courtesy of explaining why?’ His voice was like ice.


She stared at him. For one long moment she met his gaze, and then, as if in slow motion, he saw her face seem to fracture.


‘What else can it be?’ she said, in a low, vehement voice.


His voice was stiff with tightly leashed anger. ‘I do not see why—’


She cut across him.


‘Look at me.’


She stood dead in front of him.


‘How can you even think of it?Look at me .’ Her voice was taut. ‘It’sgrotesque to think of me…of me…marrying…marrying…you—’


She broke off. Her head dropped.


Rico stood looking at her. His anger had gone. Vanished. In its place…an emotion he was unused to feeling.


Embarrassment.


And pity.


Then, quietly, he said, ‘We’ll find another way to sort this out.’





Lizzy lay in bed, but she was not asleep. Beside her, on the far side of the bed, Ben’s breathing rose and fell steadily, soundlessly. Lizzy stared into the darkness. Even now, if she did not steel herself, she could feel the hot tide of all-consuming mortification flooding through her. It had been one of those excruciating moments—like a dream in which she found herself walking down the street naked—that she would remember all her life.


How could he have done it? How could he have actually sat there and said that to her face? How couldanyone in his insane family have thought of it?


She felt a cold sweat break out on her.


Grotesque, she had called it, and that was the only word for it. The veryidea of someone who looked like her marrying someone who looked like him—for whatever reason.


As if someone were running a sadism course in her mind, she made herself think about it. Made herself see it as if it were real.


Made herself see the headlines. Forced herself to.


The Playboy Prince and the Poison Pill.


Prince Rico and his Bride of Frankenstein.


They’d have a field-day.


She gazed out, wide-eyed and unseeing. Unseeing of anything except the cruel, unforgiving reflection that greeted her every day of her life.


Then, juxtaposed beside it, the image of Prince Rico Ceraldi.


The contrast was…grotesque.


She shut her eyes, as if to banish the image in her head.


All her life she’d known that she was not just unattractive, but actively repellent. It was a harsh word, but it was true. She had proof of it, day after day. She’d learnt to see it in men’s eyes—that instant dismissal and rejection.


It was the exact opposite of the reaction Maria had got. Maria, with her tall, slim figure and her lovely face, her long golden hair.


Lizzy hadn’t been jealous. What would have been the point? Maria had been the beautiful sister, she the plain one. It was the way it had always been.


Maria, in her kindness, had offered to try and do something to improve her appearance, but Lizzy had never let her. It would have been too embarrassing. Even worse than looking so repellent naturally would have been trying not to, trying to do something about it—and failing.


Because of course she would have failed.


‘You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,’ her mother would say to her, her mouth pressing tightly in displeasure as she looked over her older daughter.


So she had never tried. She had accepted herself for what she was.


Totally without the slightest attraction to the male sex.


And with Ben it just didn’t matter. What did a child care if its mother was ugly? For Ben, it was her love for him that counted, her devotion to him. All he needed from her was her care and her hugs. That was all.


Ben.


Instinctively she reached out her hand and touched his folded little body, lightly brushing his hair before taking her hand away again.


Anguish filled her.


I want to go home. I want to go back home, to Cornwall—I want this nightmare never to have happened. Please, please let it not have happened. Please.


But her prayers were hopeless. The nightmarehad happened, and she was caught in it. She would never be free of it.


Heaviness crushed her.


‘We’ll find another way to sort this out,’the Prince had said.


But what other way? The Ceraldis must have been desperate to even entertain what he had come up with—a temporary marriage of convenience to turn her into a princess and therefore a suitable mother for Prince Eduardo’s grandson.


The weight on her chest intensified.


I’m nothing but a nuisance to them…


Then she rallied. Tough. Tough that she was nothing but a nuisance to the San Lucenzan royal family. Tough that she was a problem that had to be solved. Tough that their precious grandson just happened to come encumbered by a stand-in mother.


I don’t care—I don’t care about them, or what an inconvenience I am! I don’t care about anything except Ben and his happiness. Ben needs me…and that’s all that matters. And for him I’ll do anything—anything at all.


Except marry his uncle.





Rico stood under the shower and let the stinging needles of water pound down over his head.


He should be feeling relieved. He should be feeling like a condemned man reprieved. But he wasn’t. An uncomfortable, writhing emotion twisted within him.


He kept hearing that word in his mind.


Grotesque.


How could any woman say that about herself? Feel that about herself?


OK, she was plain. But that was not her fault. So why did she seem to flay herself so for it?


A cynical voice spoke in his head.


She’s just facing up to the truth, that’s all. No man will ever want her, and she knows that. She knows just what an unlikely couple the two of you would make—the talking behind her back, the whispering, the scornful looks, the offers to comfort you for your affliction in having had to marry such a female.


He silenced the voice. Ruthlessly.


Instead, deliberately, he called another image to mind. The way she was with Ben. Endlessly patient, always loving and affectionate, supportive and encouraging.


She’d brought him up well.


More than well.


He frowned. It must have been hard for her.


She could have so much easier a life now. If he could just get her to see that.


He cut the water off and stepped out of the shower.


OK, so maybe it wasn’t ideal having Ben’s mother floating around San Lucenzo like a loose cannon. But even if she was a commoner, and an Englishwoman, so what? Something could be sorted, surely? Yes, it would make life awkward—but too bad. Wasn’t Paolo’s son worth some degree of inconvenience, some rearrangement of protocol and expectation?


He whipped a towel around his lean, honed body, then grabbed a hand towel to roughly pat his hair dry.


Once she and Ben were in San Lucenzo she would start to see for herself how a new life there would be possible. And he would have to make Luca and his father realise that somehow they had to set up a situation where Ben and his mother could live there.


His mind raced on. They didn’t have to live in the palace, or the capital itself. The Ceraldis owned enough property in the principality—one of their numerous residences would prove suitable.


A villa by the sea—they’d like that.


He could see Ben in his mind’s eye, playing on the beach—a warmer, less windy beach than the one in Cornwall.


I could visit him a lot then. Get to know him. Spend time with him.


Another thought came to him as he shrugged on a bathrobe and discarded the towels.


I’ll get something done about her—for her. With good clothes, a decent haircut, make-up—surely she’d look better?


It would be a kindness to her.


He headed for bed, feeling virtuous.


And finally relieved.

 
 

 

ÚÑÖ ÇáÈæã ÕæÑ darla  
ÞÏíã 09-08-07, 06:58 AM   ÇáãÔÇÑßÉ ÑÞã: 9
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thanx darla it looKs an interesting novel I will read it when its finished

 
 

 

ÚÑÖ ÇáÈæã ÕæÑ nargis  
ÞÏíã 10-08-07, 01:33 AM   ÇáãÔÇÑßÉ ÑÞã: 10
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   thanx darla it looKs an interesting novel I will read it when its

finished


Thanks for your reply my dear


 
 

 

ÚÑÖ ÇáÈæã ÕæÑ darla  
 

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