‘He wasn’t anything like I expected.’ Ida paused, remembering her nervous excitement as a young girl taken to an ostentatiously large house that felt neither warm nor welcoming. ‘He wasn’t interested in me as a person or in our doing anything together.’
She’d imagined outings to the zoo or the fabled London stores or even to see the crown jewels.
‘What was he interested in?’
‘Making sure I could pass muster in polite society.’ Ida’s mouth twisted. ‘Checking I wasn’t growing up wild. He wanted a demure, presentable granddaughter who knew what cutlery to use at a fancy dinner. Who could hold her own in polite conversation, no matter what the setting.’
‘So he did take you out?’
Ida shook her head. ‘He employed someone to do that.’
‘A nanny?’
She laughed, but to her ears the sound was bitter.
‘Never anything so simple. In the beginning it was someone who taught elocution and deportment. He worried I might acquire a Scottish accent.’
‘Would that have been so bad?’
‘It wasn’t what he wanted.’
Ida remembered her second visit, when she’d deliberately adopted a rich Scottish burr. It hadn’t lasted a day. He’d thrashed it out of her.
She reached for her coffee, only to find the cup empty.
‘I learned to waltz, as well as how to curtsey in a long dress. As I got older I went with art experts to gallery openings and museums and with a chaperone to gala events so I could learn to mingle and not feel overwhelmed. I went to afternoon tea at fancy hotels and had dinner with strangers.’
‘He wanted you comfortable at social events.’
‘Not all social events. High-society ones.’
She watched that sink in, a frown creasing Cesare’s forehead. She thought of stopping there but the flow of memory was too strong and with it came words, tumbling out.
‘After every outing he got a detailed report from his expert on how I’d fitted in. Whether I held my own in conversation. How I stood, my posture, whether I’d used the right cutlery or spoken too loudly. If I’d smiled at the right people. Whether I fitted in.’
‘And if you didn’t?’
Cesare’s expression was serious. As if he already understood. Which he probably did, since he knew her grandfather so well.
‘I learned it was better not to disappoint him.’
Strange how cathartic it was to share this. As if in doing so she threw off some of the burdens she’d kept to herself so long.
She never spoke of that time. With Kate she’d kept her comments general, knowing the whole truth would upset the woman who’d taken her in. Later, when she’d understood her grandfather’s character and that he wouldn’t hesitate to follow through with his threats to keep Ida and to harm her cousin, she’d had even more reason not to share her experiences.
‘He hurt you?’
Ida met Cesare’s blazing stare and read anger there. Not at her, but at her grandfather.
It was so long since someone had wanted to be her champion. Warmth spread through her, curling tendrils of heat that had nothing to do with attraction or desire. She feltseen.
‘I’d rather not talk about it.’
Cesare’s mouth flattened as if he intended to argue. Then he nodded. More proof that he’d abide by her wishes.
Something inside her chest lifted, light with pleasure.
‘We weren’t close.’ Ida repressed a grimace. ‘I’d visit London every year and it was both intensive training and an inspection to see if I lived up to his expectations.’