Lizzy moved backwards across the carpet and lifted herself into a nearby armchair. She had hoped, at the fact that she and Ben had had the breakfast room to themselves, that it meant Prince Enrico had gone.
She wished he had.
She felt excruciatingly awkward with him there. She tried not to look at him, but it was hard not to feel intensely aware of his presence in the room. Even without a drop of royal blood in him he would have been impossible to ignore.
By day he seemed even taller, outlined against the light from the window behind him, and his startling good looks automatically drew her eyes. He was wearing designer jeans, immaculately cut, and an open-necked shirt, clearly handmade. Immediately she felt the full force of just how shabbily she was dressed in comparison. Her cheap chainstore skirt and top had probably cost less than his monogrammed handkerchief.
At least, apart from that brief initial nod in her direction, he wasn’t paying any attention to her. It was all on Ben, or helping him build his tower.
Resentment and embarrassment warred within her.
Ben was chattering away confidently, without a trace of shyness, his smiles sunny. He was like Maria in that, Lizzy knew. Hindsight over the years since her terrible death had made things clearer to her. It had been a miracle that Maria’s sunny-tempered nature had not been warped by her upbringing. Despite the way her parents had doted on her, obsessed over her, she really had seemed to escape being spoilt. And yet, for all her sunny nature, she had known what she wanted, and what she’d wanted was to be a model, to live an exciting, glamorous life. And that was what she’d done, smiling happily, ignoring her parents’ dismay, and waltzing off to the life she’d wanted.
And the man she’d wanted.
Disbelief was etched through Lizzy for the thousandth time. That Maria had actually had an affair with Prince Paolo of San Lucenzo and none of them had known. Not even his family, let alone hers.
How had they managed it? He must have been very different from his brother. Even though she hadn’t recognised Enrico, she’d still heard of him—and of his reputation. The Playboy Prince. Her covert gaze rested on him a second. He certainly had the looks for it, all right. Tall, broad-shouldered, sablehaired, with strong, well-cut, aristocratic features.
And those eyes.
Dark, long-lashed, with flecks of gold in them if you looked deeply. Not that she could—or would.
She looked away. It was completely irrelevant what he looked like. It was nothing to do with her. All she had to be concerned about was how long she and Ben would have to hide here before they could go back home.
Ben had paused in his tower-building. He was looking curiously at his helper.
‘Are you really my uncle?’
Immediately Lizzy stiffened.
‘Yes,’ he answered. He spoke in a very matter of fact way. ‘You can call me Tio Rico. That means Uncle Rico. My brother was your father. But he died. It was in the car crash with your mother.’
Ben nodded. ‘I was still growing in her tummy. Then I came out, and she died.’
The Prince’s eyes were carefully watching his nephew. Lizzy could see as she held her breath.
Please, please don’t say anything about the royalty stuff. Please.
There was no point Ben knowing. None at all. It wouldn’t make sense to him, wouldn’t mean anything. One day, when he was much older, she would have to tell him, but till then it was an irrelevance.
Then, to her relief, Ben himself changed the subject.
‘We’ve finished the tower,’ he announced. ‘What shall we make next?’
He seemed to take it for granted his helper would stick around.
But the Prince got to his feet.
‘I’m sorry, Ben. I don’t have time. I have to leave very soon, and first I must talk with your aunt.’
He flicked his gaze across to the figure sitting tensely in the armchair. She got to her feet jerkily. Rico found himself regarding her without pleasure.
How could any female look so dire? No figure, no face, and hair like a bush. His eyes flicked away again, and he did not see her face mottle with colour.
‘Please come this way,’ he said, as he headed towards the door.
He went through into a room that was evidently a library, courteously holding the door open for the aunt, who walked hurriedly past him. He took up a position in front of the fireplace. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.