‘Can’t believe her luck, more likely. She’s got it made now.’ There had been a cynical note in Luca’s voice, and Rico frowned in recollection. Ben’s aunt had given no indication of any emotion other than disbelief, and dread of the impending news story.
Then Luca had picked up one of the modelling shots of Maria Mitchell that was in the dossier Falieri had compiled, and glanced at it.
‘Blonde bimbo like the sister?’ he’d asked casually.
Rico had snorted. ‘You’re joking. Utterly plain.’
His brother had laughed sardonically. ‘Well, at least that should stop the press being interested in her, and that’s all to the good. She won’t make good copy if she’s nothing to look at.’
Rico, his attention half taken by the latest version of a particular super-car that he liked to drive, which was wending its way along the edge of the marina, found himself frowning again at Luca’s comment. It was a cruel way to speak about the girl, even if it was true.
He shifted his mind away from her. Ben’s aunt was a complication that would be sorted out very soon now.
His father, during a brief interview with him, had made his wishes clear. And his instructions.
‘I leave you to handle the matter,’ his father had said.
Rico’s mouth twisted. He need not take it as a compliment. As Luca had pointed out, ‘It has to be you, Rico. You’re the only one of us that can come and go freely. And besides—’ the sardonic glint had been clear in his brother’s eye ‘—if there’s a female in the equation you’re the expert—just as well she’s plain, mind you. You’ll be immune to her.’
He stepped away from the window. The woman who was his nephew’s aunt was of no concern to him.
Only his nephew.
The news story on Paolo Ceraldi’s unknown son broke the following morning. The lurid exclusive in a French tabloid was instantly picked up, and exactly the kind of media feeding frenzy ensued that his father so deplored. As Rico knew too well from personal experience, when he had been the subject of press attention.
There was nothing to be done about it except ignore it. His father ordered a policy of silence, and to carry on as if nothing had happened. The royal family’s public life was not altered in any way. Rico’s mother attended her usual opera, ballet and philharmonia performances, his father carried out his customary duties and Luca his. As for himself, he flew down to southern Africa to participate in a gruelling long-distance rally, as he always did at this time of year.
‘No comment,’ became his only words in half a dozen languages during the checkpoints, and he couldn’t wait to get back into the driving seat and head out across the savannah again.
But there was something else he couldn’t wait to do either. Get back to his nephew again. He was counting the days.
CHAPTER FOUR
LIZZY walked into the breakfast room and stopped dead. Prince Enrico was sitting at the table.
She’d had absolutely no idea that he was here.
At her side, Ben showed only pleasure.
‘Tio Rico! You came back.’
Lizzy watched the Prince lever his long frame upright.
‘Of course. Especially to see you.’
Ben’s expression perked expectantly.
‘Will you play with me?’
‘After breakfast. Would you like to go swimming later?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Good. Well, let’s have breakfast first, shall we?’
He waited pointedly while Lizzy took her place, Ben beside her, before resuming his.
Lizzy watched as Ben chatted to his uncle. Tension laced through her instantly. He must have arrived back late last night. She had heard nothing.