Claiming His Scandalous Love-Child

More equal. More... I don’t know... More grown up? Less...reliant?

It was something to ponder. But maybe not right now. When she had time—time to think, to feel, to try and know her own mind. Her own heart.

She gave a little shake of her head. For now, like Vito, she wanted only to keep the day easy. Enjoyable. ‘Fun,’ Laura had said. Well, that was good advice.

‘OK,’ she began, ‘so, originally Long Island was home to several Native American peoples. Then, as they were moved off by the incoming Europeans, it was settled as farmland, both by the Dutch and the English, and then in the nineteenth century the railroads expanded, bringing yet more settlers, especially at the New York City end—Brooklyn and so on. But by the end of the century the very wealthy New Yorkers were heading up here to build their massive mansions.’

She moved casually into a description of what she’d learnt about Long Island since arriving at the Carldons’ to be Johnny’s nanny. It seemed to work, and as she chatted, interrupted by questions from Vito, she could feel herself starting to lose the acute self-consciousness she’d had since they’d driven off. Unconsciously, it all became...familiar.

Easy.

Natural.

By the time they stopped for lunch, in one of the attractive and extremely well-heeled resort villages of the east end of the Hamptons, she felt for the first time that maybe—just maybe—Laura Carldon’s instruction to ‘have fun’ might be just what she was doing. It was good to be with Vito again! His sense of humour was so attuned to hers, and the smiling glances he threw her way, the observations he made—all just seemed to come naturally.

As if we’d never been apart.

It was a strange, beguiling thought. And yet she knew, with a sobering reminder, that it could never be as it had once been.

But what could it yet be?

That was the question that haunted her. Yet even as she thought it she felt resistance. Sitting here in the late summer’s heat, beneath the striped awning of the shoreside restaurant, watching the sun sparkle off the azure sea, the array of expensive yachts bobbing in the harbour, how could she be haunted by it? How could she do anything except what she was doing—enjoying being with Vito.

The answer to my question will come, and what will be, will be.

That was all she knew for certain. All she could know for now.

* * *

Vito leaned back in his chair, replete after an extremely good lunch of freshly caught fish, washed down with a cold beer. A light breeze lifted the heat, as did the shade of the awning. Across the table, sipping at iced tea, Eloise was regaling him with tales of the Vanderbilts and the Morgans, and all those other mega-rich Americans from the Gilded Age who’d built their huge baronial mansions on the Gold Coast North Shore.

‘I believe some of the mansions are open to the public,’ she was saying. ‘They’re really the closest the Americans come to having stately homes! In fact,’ she went on, ‘I think quite a lot of the mansions were decorated with the contents of French châteaux and Scottish castles that were shipped over here in the nineteenth century. Fireplaces, mirrors, panelling—that sort of thing.’

Vito made a face. ‘Well, I suppose we Europeans should take that as a compliment! Raiding our history to create theirs!’ he said lightly. His expression changed. ‘Do you reme

mber our visit to Versailles, that very first time in Paris? You wanted to see the Trianon palaces as well—both the Grand and the Petit—so we did the whole lot in one day!’

Eloise smiled. ‘You were very forbearing,’ she said.

‘I wanted to please you,’ he replied.

Her gaze flickered. Had Vito wanted to please her? Had he made an effort for her? Not just on that day, but throughout their time together? Did his air of charm and ease camouflage the amount of effort he’d put into their relationship?

Her mother’s view was that it had been she who’d done all the pleasing, who had gone along with whatever Vito had wanted. Maybe, though, that wasn’t fair.

Just because I didn’t notice it, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t doing it...

A little glow formed inside her, and her smile at him was warm. ‘It was a wonderful day!’ she said. ‘I shall always treasure it!’

His dark velvet eyes softened. ‘We had good times, didn’t we?’ he said.

She took another sip of her iced tea. ‘Yes, we had good times,’ she echoed. Her expression changed, becoming troubled. ‘Is that what we’re trying to do now, Vito? Recapture the past? Make today...and the next time you visit...like the times we had together?’

Eloise’s eyes slid away, out over the sparkling blue water of the quayside. From here, Europe seemed so very far away. So very long, long ago.

Her eyes shadowed. ‘We can’t go back, Vito,’ she said, her gaze returning to him.

She saw him give a quick, decisive shake of his head. ‘I don’t want to go back,’ he said.