The Prince's Love-Child (The Royal House of Cacciatore 2)

But Ella had Nico, and they were a couple in the truest sense of the word. She drew a deep breath. ‘Ella is settled.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘And you’re not?’

‘Not really, no. How can I be? Everything feels so…so…temporary. You don’t want to be here.’

‘That is not true,’ he said heavily.

‘Guido, you know it is! If I said yes, you’d be out of this room booking tickets to New York this morning!’

‘Then say yes,’ he said softly.

She saw the appeal in his dark eyes. Was it pride which was stopping her, or fear of the unknown? Didn’t there have to be compromise for marriage to work? And if he wouldn’t—then wasn’t it down to her?

‘If that’s what you really want,’ she said woodenly. ‘Then I will.’

How plain she made her feelings for him! His voice was cold as he put his napkin down on the table and stood up. ‘Oh, please, Lucy! Anyone would imagine that I was proposing rehousing you in some slum! There is no problem—we will stay here if that is what you prefer. That was, after all, the agreement.’ He paused. ‘My father would like you to take Nicole to visit him this morning.’

Lucy’s eyes grew wider. The King had been very sick and unable to see his new granddaughter. His sons visited him daily, but he had been advised against all other callers.

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‘He’s better?’ she questioned hopefully.

‘Well, he is better than before.’ He shrugged. ‘There is no magic cure—but it will bring him great joy to see his granddaughter.’

‘You’ll…you’ll come with me?’ Her voice was nervous. Her meetings with Mardivino’s ruler had been infrequent. He had shown her nothing but kindness, but, despite his frailty, he was still a formidable man.

He shook his head. ‘I have work to do.’ He saw the hurt which clouded her eyes. ‘And he wants to see you alone,’ he finished softly.

She knew that it was pointless to ask him why. He would shrug and give her that mocking look of his, tell her that she would find out soon enough, that it was not his place to tell her of his father’s wishes—if indeed he knew them—or to second-guess them if he did not.

She took ages dressing Nicole in a pretty little Broderie Anglais dress—which she was promptly sick over. By the time she had changed her she had time only to throw on a floaty dress which she hoped disguised her post-pregnancy tummy. She brushed her hair until it shone, then shot a slightly despairing look at herself in the mirror. Hardly the image of the calm and composed Princess which no doubt the King would be expecting!

But for once Nicole behaved like a little angel—or maybe it was the quietness and calm of the King’s apartments which quietened her, for she was fast asleep in Lucy’s arms by the time they were summoned inside.

The King lay resting in a bed which had been turned to face the gardens outside, where the bright and beautiful flowers danced. He was very old now, but you could see that he had once been a strong and powerful man, and his face bore the hallmarks of pride and dignity. His faded eyes had once been black, like his sons’, and for the first time Lucy realised that his mouth was very like Guido’s.

She managed some sort of awful attempt at a curtsey, but he shook his head and patted the side of the bed.

‘Sit,’ he commanded.

As she sat, he leaned forward. An ever-present nurse sprang to attention but he waved her away.

‘Leave us,’ he commanded.

‘But your Royal Highness—’

‘Leave!’

The nurse left and the King examined Nicole’s face carefully, then lifted his head and gave Lucy a tired smile.

‘She is very beautiful,’ he observed.

Lucy was trying to remember all the etiquette of not speaking until she was spoken to, but in the circumstances it was difficult—and when it all boiled down to it wasn’t she just like any proud mother showing off her baby to his grandpop?

‘Yes, she is, isn’t she?’ She beamed. ‘She’s got Guido’s eyes, of course, and his colouring—’

‘But your nose, I think,’ he said unexpectedly.