Uncovering the Silveri Secret

No. He was fine on his own; perfectly fine.

* * *

Bella was in the kitchen stacking the dishes into the dishwasher when Edoardo came back in. It was a domestic scene he wasn’t used to seeing. She had never been one to lift a finger about the place. She had grown up with a band of willing servants to cater to her every whim. He had always thought her father had been far too lenient with her. She had never had to work for anything in her life. It had all been handed to her on a silver plate with the Haverton coat of arms emblazoned on it. She had flounced around issuing orders as if she was already lady of the manor, even as a small child. Not even as an adult had she ever considered the sacrifices Godfrey Haverton had made to provide a secure future for her. She hadn’t even had the decency to be by his side as he drew his last, gasping breath.

He had been the one to watch Godfrey pass from life to death.

He had held his frail hand and listened to the sounds of the breath slowly leaving the old man’s rail-thin body.

He had been the one to close Godfrey’s eyes in final rest.

He had been the one to weep with grief at losing the one person on this earth who had truly believed in him. He had sworn on Godfrey’s death bed that he would do the right thing by him and protect Bella. He would make sure she stayed out of trouble until the guardianship period was over. He would not let her waste her father’s hard-earned money. And in the meantime he would continue to restore Haverton Manor into the grand old residence Godfrey had loved so much, thus keeping a part of his mentor and friend alive.

Bella closed the dishwasher and straightened, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. ‘I was going to make some coffee,’ she said. ‘Would you like some?’

Edoardo couldn’t help a little lip curl. ‘You mean you actually know how to boil water?’

She pursed her mouth and tossed the dishcloth she had been holding on the sink. ‘I’m trying to be nice to you, Edoardo,’ she said. ‘The least you could do is meet me halfway.’

‘Nice?’ He gave a rough sound of derision. ‘Is that what you call it? You’re sucking up to me to get what you want.’

‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you told me about your parents—about being orphaned so young. I didn’t understand how devastating it must have—’

‘Cut it, princess,’ he said savagely.

Her smooth forehead crinkled in a frown. ‘But surely talking about it would be helpful?’

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he said. He reached for the coffee grounds in the pantry and slammed them down on the counter. He filled the percolator with water, spooned in the coffee and switched it on, his hands clenching the counter until the tendons on the back stood out starkly against his tan. Was she never going to give this up? What was it about women that they had to know everything? To talk about everything? He wanted to block it out, not dredge it up all the time.

He wanted it to go away.

He needed it to go away.

The percolator hissed and spat in the silence.

Edoardo heard her move across the floor. She had such a light, almost silent tread but the hairs on the back of his neck lifted all the same. He felt her just behind him. He could smell her perfume. It danced around his nostrils. If she touched him, his control would snap. He could already feel it straining on its tight leash. It felt like a wild beast being held back by a thin, rusty chain. One of these days one of those fragile, corroded links would break.

He heard her draw in a small breath and then she spoke his name, softly and hesitantly. It was like a caress on his skin. It made every pore react as if a soft feather had brushed over him. ‘Edoardo?’

He waited a beat before he turned around and looked down at her. Her beautiful heart-shaped face was uptilted and her big brown eyes were soft and dewy, her rosy lips full and moist. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ he said with a cynical look. ‘You always lay on the charm when you want something. I’ve seen you do it to your father hundreds of times. But you’re wasting your time. It won’t work with me.’

Her expression soured. ‘Why must you be so...so beastly?’ she asked.

‘I won’t be manipulated by you or anyone,’ he said. ‘I made a promise to your father and I’m going to keep it.’

‘I want to get married here,’ she said, throwing him a combative look. ‘I’ve dreamed of it all of my life. My father would have wanted it. You can’t say he wouldn’t.’