She bit her lip again. ‘I’m sorry …’
He gave her a brief glance before he shouldered open the door. ‘We all have our limits, Bella.’
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN Bella came back from the bathroom, there was no sign of the spill of red wine or any shards of glass. Fergus was still lying on his padded bed near the cooker. Edoardo was dishing up a delicious-looking chicken and tomato dish that smelt absolutely divine.
‘Do you want to eat in here or the dining room?’ he asked without looking up from what he was doing.
‘Here’s fine,’ she said. ‘Fergus looks like he’s settled in for the night.’
‘He’s getting on,’ he said as he set a plate in front of her. ‘He’s slowed down a lot just lately.’
‘How old is he now?’ Bella asked, screwing up her forehead as she tried to remember. ‘Seven?’
‘Eight,’ he said. ‘Your father bought him when you decided you weren’t coming home for Christmas that year.’
Bella frowned when she thought of how she had behaved back then by choosing her social life over her father. It wasn’t just an attempt on her part to avoid Edoardo after that kiss. Her relationship with her father had never really been the same after her mother had left. He had thrown himself into work, spending long hours in the study or going on business trips and leaving her with babysitters.
When he was at home he’d hardly seemed aware she was there. She had felt frustrated that she couldn’t get close to him. She had been frightened he might leave her too and had perversely done everything she could to drive him away. She had blamed him for her mother leaving and had acted out dreadfully. She had thrown terrible tantrums. She had screamed, railed and deliberately made things difficult for him. The various nannies he had employed hadn’t stayed long. In the end she had agreed to go to boarding school even though she hadn’t really wanted to go. ‘Was he lonely, do you think?’ she asked. ‘Did he miss me?’
‘Of course he did,’ he said, frowning slightly.
‘He never said.’
‘It wasn’t his way,’ he said.
Bella toyed with the edge of her plate. ‘After my mother left … it was difficult to get close to him,’ she said. ‘He seemed to shut himself away. Work became his entire focus. I didn’t think he cared what happened to me. I think I reminded him too much of Mum.’
‘He was hurt,’ he said. ‘Your mother’s affair totally gutted him.’
Guilt felt like a yoke around her shoulders. She had made it so much worse. Why had she been so selfish? Why couldn’t she have comforted her father instead of pushing him away? She had ended up hurting him just as much as her mother. She looked at Edoardo again. ‘You really cared about him, didn’t you?’ she asked.
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