Conveniently Wed to the Prince

Holly remembered his face, and the awe that had touched it when she’d video-called him with the news. Once again a conflict of emotion swirled inside her—a happiness that she could give this to him, repay her father for the years of love, the years of bringing her up singlehandedly. And a selfish underlying of sadness that any hope of a career away from Il Boschetto di Sole had receded further into the realm of impossibility.

‘I will need you now more than ever before, Holly. Roberto Bianchi has given the Romanos a chance to

create a dynasty of our own, entrusted us with the place he loved most. To pass on for generations to come.’

‘Holly?’

Stefan’s voice pulled her back to the present and she pushed away any thoughts of negativity. Until eighteen months ago she had been genuinely content to live her life on Il Boschetto di Sole, to live the fairy tale happy-ever-after with Graham, have children, fulfil her father’s expectations. Once she returned to her home that same contentment would return.

And if it didn’t she’d fake it—because she had no intention of letting her father down. Full stop.

Focus.

Stefan continued to look at her. ‘Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me? If I’m right you need to ’fess up. Because I do not want any surprises.’

Stefan was right. ‘It’s all a bit...complicated. My father is thrilled...honoured to be in line for part ownership. He believes the split is fair and that this marriage is an equitable solution. But I’m not sure how he feels about you.’

Her father had withdrawn behind an emotionless mask when she’d explained the marriage deal, that she and Stefan would come to visit him, that he would need to welcome Stefan as his son-in-law. He had agreed to play his part, but Holly had no idea how he felt about the idea of meeting Eloise’s son.

‘Why? Because he disapproves of me? Half of Lycander disapproves of me, so I can understand that.’

For a moment she was tempted to let him believe that, allow that to be her explanation as to why she was worried about this visit. But there was a bitter flavour to his words that she wanted to diffuse.

‘It’s more personal than that. It’s because of Eloise.’

‘My mother? Why?’

Now his voice was a growl, and she knew that this was a touchy subject. Hell, she could relate to that—her own mother was not a topic she wished to discuss. Come to that, she wasn’t over-keen on talking about his.

‘Our parents—my father and your mother—they were...involved.’

‘Roberto mentioned that in my letter, but it was the first I’d heard of it.’

‘Well, they were an item. My father loved her and she threw him over in favour of royalty.’ Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. ‘Broke his heart.’ Thus doomed his marriage to her mother from the outset. ‘In return for the crown jewels.’

Now anger zig-zagged in his grey eyes; his hands were clenched and she could see the effort it took him to unfurl his fingers. ‘My mother was not a gold-digger.’

‘Then why did she marry Alphonse?’

‘According to Roberto Bianchi because Roberto persuaded her into it—he saw it as a grand alliance, believed she would make a great princess, and he wanted to scotch the romance between her and your father. Partly because of their social disparity, partly because your father was already engaged.’

‘She didn’t have to agree.’

‘No, she didn’t. But she didn’t agree for the money or the prestige. She wasn’t like that.’

His tone brooked no argument and his eyes were shaded with so much emotion that she stilled in her chair even as her own emotions were in tumult inside her.

Part of her wanted to howl, How do you know that? But she bit the words back. Stefan had the right to hold a rose-coloured vision of his mother, but Holly had no wish to share it. Her childhood had been blighted by Eloise; she had been the reason for acrimony, slammed doors and misery. So Holly had no wish to hear any defence of the woman who had doomed her parents’ marriage. The only thing that might have salvaged it was a son. When that hadn’t happened the bitterness had continued for eight years of Holly’s life. Until Eloise had left Lycander; soon after that her mother had walked out.

‘I know what you want to do, Thomas. You want to follow her. You never got over a woman who rejected you, treated you like the dirt beneath her designer shoes.’

Her mother’s voice had been full of weary venom and Holly had put her hands over her ears in a familiar futile attempt to block it out.

‘Go if you wish. But I will not be here when you come back, rejected again. I have had enough. We could have been happy if you could have returned my love.’

‘I always told you, Angela, that our marriage would not be one of love; it would be one of duty.’

‘And it could have been happy if you had been able to let go of her, given us a chance.’