Well, that didn’t matter. She could get some more. And she would get some more because she hadn’t believed a word of what he’d said to her, not one single word.
Oliver stared moodily into his pint of beer. He still couldn’t believe that Ella had been stupid enough to do what she had done and ruin that damn near perfect body of hers, all because of some bitchy model. OK, so maybe she could have spared a couple of pounds, four or five at the most, but to lose the amount of weight she had done…Along with his anger, Oliver felt a renewal of his earlier sense of responsibility towards her.
Ruddy women, especially wet-behind-the-ears women like Ella. The sooner she found some posh toff to marry her and give her a few kids to keep her busy, the better, Oliver decided grimly.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Emerald, my dear, you look so hot and bothered, do come and sit down and let me order some tea for you.’
Shaking her head angrily in refusal, Emerald stepped towards her mother-in-law and thrust the letter she had removed from her handbag at her, stating furiously, ‘I received this letter from Alessandro this morning saying that he is going to have to stay in Lauranto at least another month. I want to know what all this is about.’
The princess brushed the letter aside with a gesture that said quite clearly to Emerald that she was perfectly well aware of its contents. Because no doubt she was responsible for them, Emerald seethed.
‘Well, my dear, I should have thought it was perfectly obvious to an intelligent young woman like you, Alessandro has his duties—’
‘Alessandro’s most important duty is to me, his wife,’ Emerald interrupted her sharply.
‘That might apply to an ordinary man, but Alessandro is not an ordinary man, he is a prince, and as such his first duty must always be to his position and his people.’
‘Very well then, if Alessandro can’t come back to London to me, then I shall go to him.’
Alessandro’s mother gave her a coldly appraising look. ‘Ah, yes, your marriage to my son. Conducted in such great haste and secrecy. Not what I would have expected from my son. But of course, Alessandro wasn’t the one who engineered the marriage, was he?’
Before Emerald could answer, she continued, ‘There is a history of hasty marriage in your family, as I discovered recently when I was looking into your background. Your own mother, for example—’
‘What do you mean, you’ve been looking into my family background?’ Emerald stopped her.
‘Well, when one’s son–the heir to a principality and its ruler–ends up married to a young woman unknown to his family, and in the dubious fashion in which your marriage to my son was conducted, naturally one wishes to equip oneself with whatever information is available about such a person–and her family.’
‘My family history is perfectly well known. My own title testifies to the position of my father,’ Emerald glared.
‘You refer, I assume, to the title of Lady Emerald Devenish?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Emerald said impatiently. Her mother-in-law was deliberately drawing out the situation and all she wanted to do was be reunited with Alessandro.
‘You are very proud of your relationship with the late duke, so I am told, Emerald.’
‘With Daddy…of course. He was my father.’
‘Ah. I’m sorry, my dear. If only that were true. Sadly, I’m afraid that it isn’t. You see your fa
ther wasn’t the duke; he was a Frenchman, an artist, a painter, who died fighting in the Spanish Civil War.’
For the first time in her life Emerald was lost for words. What her mother-in-law was saying was ridiculous.
‘No,’ she denied vehemently, ‘that’s not possible.’
‘Oh, but, my dear, I’m afraid it is, and not just merely possible, but actual fact. You shall see for yourself. I have all the information, all the papers here.’
She produced a large foolscap envelope, which Emerald stared at as though it were alive, so great was her shock.
‘I must say that when I instituted enquiries into your background I had not dared hope that they would yield such a rich crop. To be frank, it was for evidence of your own immoral behaviour for which I was looking, not your mother’s. Such a dreadful secret to have had to keep all those years, don’t you think, Emerald? Not one but two children born to a nobody, a penniless artist who supported himself by seducing foolish rich old women and amused himself by seducing even more foolish young women, of which your mother was one. No wonder she married the late duke in such haste. She would have been ruined had she not done so. A silly, common little millowner’s granddaughter, who had not understood the rules that governed the society in which she was attempting to move. At best, all she could have looked forward to without the late duke’s name to shield her and give her respectability would have been the life of a rich man’s mistress.’
‘You’re lying! None of this is true.’
Why was her heart pounding so fast? She knew that what Alessandro’s mother was saying couldn’t be true. It was preposterous–impossible for her to be the daughter of a common painter. But Emerald didn’t like the way her mother-in-law was looking at her, mockery shining in the bead-sharp eyes, like a cat at a mouse hole.
‘My father—’