This car was different anyway—a lot less conspicuous. Gianni had fixed the swap—the guy was heading for an all-time bonus. Now he came up trumps yet again.
‘You like pizza?’ he asked, and passed back a large, double wrapped plastic bag. ‘Cold, but good. From my great-uncle’s housekeeper, for the bambino.’
Ben’s face lit.
‘Yes, please,’ he said.
Rico watched as his mother unwrapped the food and handed it with some paper towels to his nephew, who tucked in hungrily. As they ate, he slid his hand into his pocket and took out his phone. It took a while to be answered, but when it was, he wasted no time.
‘Jean-Paul, I’ve got a story for you…’
The conversation was lengthy, in rapid French, and when he disconnected Rico felt another wave of relief go through him. He also felt anxious eyes on him. He turned his head.
‘That was a friend of mine. The one who alerted me that there was a story building about Paolo’s long-lost son. He’s a good friend, and I trust him absolutely. I’ve told him we’ve just got married. That we’re making a family for Ben. He’ll sit on the story until I give him the word to run with it. That’s the weapon I can hold over my father. I’ll give him some time to come round, to accept what’s happened, but if he stonewalls then Jean-Paul can run the story the way I’ve given it to him—without any co-operation from the palace. That’s the only choice my father gets.’
His voice was grim as he finished.
He slid the phone into his jacket pocket again.
‘I still cannot believe that my father did what he did. I knew he was not sentimental about Luca and myself, but Paolo—Paolo was different.’ His eyes slid away into the past as he spoke, his voice low. ‘Paolo was the one son my parents could treat not as a prince, but as…as a child. As someone in his own right. Someone without a royal function. Who could just be himself. That’s why—’ His voice halted a moment, then he went on. ‘That’s why I thought they really wanted Ben. Because he’s Paolo’s son. I thought they would…’ He swallowed. ‘I thought they would love him. Love him enough to know that what was important for Ben was what should be done. Love him enough to know that you were important to him.’
His eyes looked troubled. ‘I am ashamed of them. Ashamed of what they did to you.’
Suddenly, out of nowhere, he touched her arm. Lightly. Just for a moment.
‘And I am ashamed of myself as well.’
Lizzy’s expression was troubled.
‘You’re taking the fall for this,’ she said, and her voice was low and strained. ‘I’m sorry—I’m really, really sorry that you had to…had to do what you’ve just done. I’ll try…I’ll try not to be—’ She swallowed, then fell silent.
What could she say? I’ll try not to be too grotesque a wife to you? She felt her throat tightening.
He was silent a moment. Then he spoke.
‘It will work out. For all the reasons I told you in England, when I believed that this marriage was what my father wanted. All those reasons are still true.’
She could not reply. What could she say?
That the reason for her refusing him in England was still the same as well?
Well, it was too late for that.
The car drove on into the night. At her side, Ben finished his pizza. She cleared away the remains, then let him cuddle against her and fall asleep. His little body was warm and sturdy, and her love for him flooded through her.
I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done the only thing. The only thing possible to keep him safe.
Her eyes met his uncle’s, on the other side of Ben.
A strange emotion pricked through him.
He had done what he had had to do. No other course of action had been possible—anything else had been unthinkable.
I did what I had to do. That is all.
It was my duty.
Duty. But of a different type.