A Royal Wedding(23)

‘Not always.’ He was leaning back in his chair, his jaw set, his eyes as hard as the rock this castle was constructed with. He picked up his spoon. ‘Sometimes it’s stormy during the day too.’

Lovely. Clearly she’d visited the castle in the high season. She followed his lead, only to toy with her spoon, barely tasting the soup. She’d known they would either argue or end up in each other’s arms and more. Clearly it would not be the latter tonight.

Which was a good thing, wasn’t it?

She had no intention of ending up in his bed. Even if she was leaving tomorrow and the idea of a one-night affair came with a frisson of the forbidden. One night with a dark count with a savage heart. One night of passion unleashed.

Utter recklessness, she told herself, shifting a little in her chair. Of course she didn’t want that.

Bruno grunted when he made to clear away her plate. ‘Not finished?’

‘Thank you, it was lovely. I’m not really that hungry.’ She smiled up at him, wondering if he ever smiled. ‘Does Bruno do the cooking too?’ she asked as he disappeared with their plates, looking for a safer topic to discuss.

‘Of course not.’ Alessandro almost snapped the words, seemed to think twice and made another effort. ‘Of course I have a cook.’

‘Oh, I think I saw her. A pretty dark-haired girl?’

‘You saw her?’

‘I happened to see the boat come in earlier today. She was on it. I thought she must work at the castle.’

A muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘My cook is named Pietro. There are no women who work at the castle.’

‘Oh.’

He didn’t volunteer who the woman was and she wasn’t about to ask. Maybe she should have picked another topic. An antique mantel clock rang out the hour and then fell silent again. She studied her hands, busy tying themselves into knots in her lap, while outside the rain continued to come down. It would clear tomorrow, she reassured herself, just like it had cleared today.

Right now the boat couldn’t come soon enough.

Somehow, stiffly, they made it through the rest of the courses, and Grace was never more grateful than when coffee was served. Conversation had been stilted and terse and limited to little more than the likes of, ‘How is your duck?’ and, ‘Lovely, thank you.’

It had been an ordeal rather than a meal. She knew he was angry with her, but what she couldn’t work out was why. He’d been the one to make her feel unwelcome from the start. He’d been the one who’d insisted she leave as soon as she was finished. And now he was acting as if she was cutting and running. And now he was the one who glowered at her with those dark eyes until she shivered with the intensity of it all.

What was his problem?

‘It’s late,’ she said. ‘I should get my things packed.’

‘Of course,’ he said, standing as she rose. ‘You will forgive me, Dr Hunter, if I do not see you off in the morning. Bruno will collect your things and take you to the boat.’

Something lurched inside her—something beyond the unexpected hurt of him dropping the Grace and resuming use of her title. So this would be the last time she’d see him? How strange that felt, when she’d been expecting relief.

‘Thank you, Count Volta. Both for your hospitality and for returning the lost pages of the Salus Totus to the world. I will be sure to accord your contribution due recognition in my report.’

He gave a slight bow, formal and brief. ‘Goodnight, Dr Hunter.’

She was halfway to the door when he called her, and she turned uncertainly, unable to prevent or understand the tiny bubble of hope that came with his call. ‘Yes?’

‘Take the dress when you go,’ he said. ‘I have no use for it.’

She knew she shouldn’t be disappointed. He’d made it clear he was angry with her. But she would take the dress. She doubted she would ever have cause to wear it, but she would treasure it for ever. ‘Thank you. I meant to ask—wherever did it come from?’

His eyes looked back at her, bleak and soulless. ‘It was my fiancée’s.’


She was leaving. He sat at the empty table, a hint of her perfume the only remaining trace of her.

She was leaving.

Somehow he’d made it through the dinner, forcing food into a body already shutting down.

She was leaving. And, beyond locking her in a turret room or throwing her into the caves below the castle, he had no choice but to let her go.