He fell silent, his eyes heavy on his brother.
‘Responsibility?’ said Rico slowly. His eyes rested on Luca. Nothing showed in them. ‘I’ve always had a problem with responsibility. Because I never had any. My sole responsibility was to stay alive, that was all. In case you dropped dead. Turned out gay. Refused to marry. Proved infertile. And in the meantime, until and unless any of that happened, I passed the time. Any way I could. Because that was all I could do. All I was allowed to do. Pass the time. However pointlessly. Until—’ his voice changed ‘—until I found out there was something I could do, after all. Something, in fact, that only I could do—no one else could. I could save Paolo’s son.’
His eyes never left Luca’s, not for an instant, boring into him, burning into him. ‘I could save Paolo’s son from the hellish childhood that was being cooked up for him. The one you told me about when I delivered Ben and his mother into your tender hands like a fool—the fool you’d played me for. You wanted to throw his mother away like garbage and condemn Ben to a childhood that was going to be even worse than the one we had, Luca. Do you remember our childhood? Do you? Or has that just conveniently been blanked out of your memory? Because it hasn’t from mine, and there was no way—no way on this earth—that I was going to let that happen to Paolo’s son. There was no way that I was going to let him be taken from the woman he regards as his mother, loves as his mother, or let her lose her child. I could stop it happening—and I did. And I don’t regret it for one second. Not one instant.’ His voice was a low snarl now. ‘Even though I’ve discovered just what kind of callous scum you all are.’
He took a harsh intake of breath. ‘And now, if you don’t want me to knock you out cold again, I suggest you get th
e hell out of my quarters.’
He saw his brother’s lip twist.
‘Thinking to use your Boy’s Own secret passage and head for the hills again, Rico? It won’t do you any good this time. It won’t get you out of the hole you’re in now. You’ve run out of options. Your marriage has been declared void, and you’re under arrest.’
Rico’s mouth whitened.
‘I don’t give a—’
‘Allow me,’ bit out Luca, cutting through the expletive, ‘to explain to you exactly what San Lucenzan law in respect of royal marriages allows the Prince Regnant to do.’
In precise, exact and comprehensive terms, he did so.
Rico listened. And as he listened, his face slowly froze.
Lizzy was sitting very still. Very still indeed. She had sent Ben to the playroom, telling him to watch a DVD until she came for him.
‘I am so very sorry,’ Captain Falieri was saying, ‘to be the bearer of such…unsettling…news, Miss Mitchell.’
Lizzy said nothing. What could she say? Yet she had to say something.
She swallowed. There seemed to be a stone in her throat.
‘So…so what happens now? To Ben and me?’
Her voice was thin, and she was trying to stop it shaking.
Captain Falieri was being kind—so very kind. Somehow that just made it worse.
‘I am to escort you both back to Cornwall. Perhaps you would instruct the staff to pack what you intend to take? Needless to say, all…’ he hesitated minutely ‘…all personal effects purchased for your stay here will be considered yours.’
She said nothing. She would allow Ben to choose his favourites from amongst the toys that he had acquired here. As for herself…
She felt her heart crushed, as if heavy weights were squeezing it.
She would need nothing. Nothing but what she had arrived with.
She got to her feet. The motion was jerky.
‘If you will excuse me—?’
‘Of course. However…’ The minute hesitation came again. ‘Before you go, I am instructed to require you to sign a particular document.’
He drew a thick, long envelope from his inside breast pocket and took out the folded document within. He placed it in front of her.
‘Although you may wish to read it first—there is a translation attached to the original, as you can see—its content is very straightforward. His Highness, Prince Eduardo, requires you to agree to certain…restrictions. You are to make no claim either on your behalf, or that of your nephew, on the estate of his late natural father, or upon His Highness’s estate. You are to have no contact with the press in any way. All approaches by any member of the press to you, you are to direct to His Highness’s press secretary to deal with. You are to undertake never to agree to or participate in the publication of any book, or the broadcast of any programme, in any medium, pertaining to your nephew. When these undertakings have been agreed by yourself, a regular sum will be paid to you, for the maintenance of yourself and your nephew. When your nephew achieves his majority, a capital sum will be settled on him by His Highness, in due recognition of the financial obligation that would have devolved upon your nephew’s natural father.’
He fell silent and extracted a fountain pen from his inside jacket, placing it beside the document, formally opening it to the final page, where her signature was to be appended.
‘I will sign the papers,’ said Lizzy. ‘But I will not accept any money. Please make that very clear to His Highness.’