Royally Bedded, Regally Wedded

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 window. 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 languages 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.

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?’