The Dutiful Wife

Giselle pushed away the plans on which she had been working in the light-filled studio—Saul had turned the house over to her after their marriage, for her to reorganise as she wished, and the large double office and workspace she had created out of the original darkly formal and masculine library had delighted him as much as it did her.

The children she could never have for their own sake, for their safety when they were small and vulnerable, and for their ability to live their lives without the fear that had stalked her life once they were adult.

Had stalked hers? Was she sure that that fear was truly in the past? Of course she was. Saul had given her his love and his assurance that he did not want children, and her husband was above all else a man of his word. A man she could trust.

Giselle stood up, blinking away the sudden rush of tears that clouded her vision. Why was she crying when she had so much? When she had Saul’s love? When it was in part their shared determination not to have children that had bonded them together? Did she really need to ask herself that? Every time they visited the children supported by their charity, when she spoke to or held one of them, it made her ache to hold Saul’s child, but that could and must never be.

Her mobile rang. She looked at it, smiling when she saw that her caller was Saul.

‘It’s just a quick call,’ he told her. ‘Just to make sure you’re all right.’

‘I’m fine—what about you?’ she asked anxiously.

‘I’m getting through things, so it shouldn’t be too long before I’m back.’

‘I miss you,’ Giselle told him.

‘I miss you, too,’ was his answer.

After their call had ended Giselle promised herself that once all the formalities to do with Aldo’s death were over she’d suggest to Saul that they took a few days out together—not just to make up for the time they had lost in rushing back to England, but also so that Saul could mourn Aldo privately.

In Moscow Saul stared out of his hotel bedroom window. The deathbed promise Aldo had demanded from him still weighed heavily on him. Ruling Arezzio had always been the last thing he had wanted to do, and he had been glad that it was Aldo who had inherited that responsibility and not him. He loved the life he and Giselle had built for themselves, and he knew that Giselle did too. Just as the loss of their parents and their childhoods had left them both with the belief that they hadn’t mattered, that they had not been loved by their parents, had bonded them together, so had their shared enjoyment of their business activities. Their lives during the year of their marriage had focused on their love for one another and their duty to that love.

Now, though, he had another duty to consider. A duty that would totally change the way he and Giselle lived their lives and which would impose on them all the demands that came with taking on the mantle of hereditary ruler—the next in a long line of such rulers, father and son, over centuries of generations.

He would be glad to leave Russia—and not just because he missed Giselle. The behaviour of Natasha’s father and some of his business associates had left a bad taste in his mouth, and he had seen from his meetings with the relevant Russian officials that they shared his distaste for the manner in which Ivan Petranovachov had accumulated his vast fortune.

Around Natasha’s neck at the time of her death had been a necklace which Saul had been informed had belonged to the last Tsarina—a piece of such historic value that its rightful home was a museum. And yet somehow Natasha’s father had been able to gain possession of this piece. Saul had been glad to hand it over to the Russian authorities, tainted as it was by the fate of the Tsarina for whom it had been designed. He smiled to himself, knowing what Giselle’s reaction would be were he to tell her that he wished to commission a piece of jewellery for her worth a king’s ransom. She would immediately insist that he put the money into their charity instead.

Giselle. Saul felt an urgent need to be with her, holding her, feeling the living warmth of her in his arms as they made love.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SIGNS OF MOURNING grew as they drove towards the capital city of Arezzio: black flags bearing Aldo’s crest at half-mast on every lamppost, as well as hanging from the windows of so many of his people. It brought a lump of emotion to Giselle’s throat. She turned to Saul to tell him so, and then stopped.

Saul was not looking at her. He was looking away from her. She had known that Saul would be affected by his cousin’s death, but since he had returned from Russia at the beginning of the week, after their initial fierce and joyous reunion lovemaking, Saul had seemed to retreat from her into his own thoughts. At first she had put it down to his natural grief, but now she was beginning to feel that Saul was deliberately excluding her from his thoughts and feelings about the loss of his cousin. Whenever she tried to talk to him about Aldo he cut her off and changed the subject, as though he didn’t want to share what he was feeling with her. Why? Didn’t he understand that his refusal to talk about Aldo to her was making her feel shut out and rejected?

She reached for his hand, her movement causing him to turn and look at her.

‘Something’s wrong,’ he guessed. ‘What is it?’

Relief filled her, and with it gratitude for Saul’s perceptive awareness.

‘You’ve seemed so guarded and withdrawn since you got back from Russia, I was beginning to worry.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve been struggling to come to terms with what Aldo’s death is going to mean. It never crossed my mind that he might die so young, or to consider how that might impact on the future of the country.’

‘Aldo’s people will miss him,’ she said quietly. ‘I know that neither of us really approved of the way the country was run, with Natasha having such a strong influence on Aldo and when we both feel so strongly about democracy, but Aldo tried his best to be a good ruler. Natasha liked to complain that he put the country first, before her.’

‘That wasn’t true, of course, but Aldo did try his best to do his duty. It wasn’t his fault that Natasha was so determined to have her own way. Also, he believed sincerely in the right of the people to expect him to put his duty to them before everything else—just as he believed in the importance of the tradition of that duty being passed down through the generations.’

‘Your strong sense of duty and loyalty to those you care about is something you and Aldo share…shared,’ Giselle amended quickly, relieved when Saul squeezed her hand rather than looking upset because she had referred to Aldo in the present tense.

She felt much better now that they were talking about Aldo, about Saul’s feelings. Her childhood had left her with a fear of being excluded from the emotions of those she loved, and she suspected that it sometimes made her over-sensitive on that issue.

They had reached the palace now, where the Royal Guard was on duty, their normal richly coloured uniforms exchanged for mourning black, their tunics, like the flags, embroidered in scarlet and gold with the royal house’s coat of arms.

Tradition, like pomp and ceremony, could have a strong pull on the senses Giselle recognised as they were met from the car by one of Aldo’s elderly ministers, who bowed to Saul and then escorted them up the black carpet and into the palace. She tended to forget that Saul carried the same royal blood in his veins as his cousin—principally because Saul himself had always made it so clear to her that he had distanced himself from the whole royalty thing.

Saul had his own apartment within the palace, and Giselle was relieved that he had it, so that they could retreat to it after the ritual and ceremony of the public declaration of mourning that naturally dominated the atmosphere. Even the maids were dressed in black, and all the household staff looked genuinely upset by the loss of a ruler Giselle knew had been much loved, despite the fact that his gentle nature had made it next to impossible for him to stand up to both his wife and those who had wanted to use Arezzio for their own profit via a series of schemes that Giselle knew Saul had tried to dissuade Aldo from adopting.

‘Things will be very different here now for the people,’ she commented when she and Saul were finally alone in his apartment.

‘Yes,’ Saul agreed.

He felt relieved that, even though she had not said so directly, Giselle’s comments about the future of the country meant she was aware of the role he would have to take. He was grateful to her for not insisting on discussing it, and so giving him the space he felt he needed to come to terms with what lay ahead.

When he had given his promise to Aldo his behaviour had been instinctive and emotional. It had only been afterwards that he had truly recognised what that promise meant. Then he had balked at the burden Aldo had deliberately placed on him. He had even felt resentful and angry with his cousin, since Aldo had known that he had always been glad that his father had been the younger brother and he would not inherit either the title or its responsibilities. Those feelings had tormented him whilst he had been in Russia, and he had longed for Giselle to be there so that he could unburden himself to her.

Coming back here today, he felt that sense against hostility to the burden Aldo had placed on him burn very strongly in him. The weight of his responsibility to his cousin and to their royal blood weighed as heavily on him as the mourning that clothed the palace and its inhabitants.

Now, just by walking into his own apartment with Giselle, he could feel that burden lifting, the pressure of the decision he knew he had to make easing. Giselle’s calm and wise words about his inborn sense of duty had helped to guide him in the right direction.

‘The changes that will have to be made will benefit the people—even if right now they might not be able to see that,’ said Giselle. “We all loved Aldo, but the reality is that the country needs a strong and motivated leadership. Perhaps his death was fate’s way of saying that it is time for things to change.’

Saul was even more convinced that she had realised the impact Aldo’s death must have on their own lives. The knowledge comforted and strengthened him.

‘Have I told you how much I love you?’ he asked.

Giselle smiled at him in relief. He had seemed so preoccupied and distant, but now she could see that he was her beloved Saul again.

‘It was here that we first made love.’ He smiled at her and slid his hand beneath the soft weight of her hair to draw her closer to him. Giselle smiled back at him, but their movement towards one another was halted by a firm knock on the door.

Releasing her, Saul went to answer it. Giselle could see the black-garbed major-domo standing outside in the corridor, and Saul was inclining his head towards him to hear what he was saying, before nodding and then closing the door to come back to her. The warm intimacy had been stripped from his expression, and in its place was a shuttered grimness.

‘Aldo’s body will be lying in state in the cathedral from tomorrow morning. The major-domo says that I may pay my last respects privately now if I wish.’

‘I’ll come with you—’ Giselle began, but Saul shook his head.

‘No. I…It’s best if I go alone. You and I will be expected to open the official lying in state tomorrow. We can go together then.’

He had gone before Giselle could make any further objections. The door closed behind him with a sharp click, like an axe falling between them and separating them, Giselle thought uneasily.

There was a private underground passage that led from the palace to the cathedral, hewn out of the rock on which the city was built. The tunnel might now be illuminated by electric lights, but as he followed the major-domo Saul admitted that it wasn’t hard to imagine it lit only by torches as those using it moved down it with a potentially more dangerous and even sinister purpose at a time when the country had been besieged by its enemies and those who coveted it.

The country had broken away from the Catholic church at the same time as Britain’s Reformation, and now its religion could best be described as Protestant high church.

The Archbishop was waiting to receive him, his formal robes a touch of bright shimmering colour after the darkness of the tunnel and the mourning-shrouded castle.