The Royal Bastard

by Nicole Burnham

  Voices came from the far end of the hall. Apparently Kos and Enzo had located the flashlights. Justine cradled Rocco’s chin in her hand. “It won’t be easy.” At his huff of agreement, she added, “But for the record, I think it’s the right thing to do. You’re a good man, Rocco Cornaro. Enzo and Lina won’t forget it.”

  “You’d better be sure, because it could affect you, too. It could affect us. If it were to come out—”

  She drew her index finger over his lips. “Do what you need to do for everyone.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, as if assessing her sincerity, then pressed a lingering kiss to her fingertip before stepping out of her embrace.

  “All right,” he said loud enough for the group in the hallway to hear over the ferocity of the storm. “I’ll do it. If we’re discovered, so be it. The Barrali family can make their explanations to the press.”

  Lina and Enzo were back in the room before Rocco finished speaking. Kos entered a few steps behind them, then calmly placed flashlights on the end tables and desk so they were within easy reach.

  “Are you sure?” Lina asked. “While we were in the hallway, Enzo said that if you agreed, he’d be willing to talk to Carlo instead.”

  Rocco waved off the suggestion. “Fabrizia reached out to me and I’m the one Carlo’s seen before, even if I don’t remember it.”

  “You’ll ask about our mother and about the necklace?” Enzo asked.

  “I will. I’ll let you know what happens as soon as possible.” He turned to Kos. “Make the arrangements, please. Then see what you can discover about Radich.”

  Kos nodded, then turned to leave the library. When he reached the threshold, Rocco called out, “Kos? When you’re done, get out of here. Enjoy a glass of wine and kiss your wife on the balcony of your cabin tomorrow night while the sun sets.”

  The big man’s eyes held a smile, though his voice remained solemn. “As you wish, sir.”

  After Lina and Enzo followed Kos so they could say their goodbyes, Rocco frowned at Justine. “Last chance. You sure you’re all right with this?”

  “Of course. Make the call.”

  * * *

  “Good evening, Your Highness.”

  Umberto tipped his head in deference as Fabrizia ascended the stairs to the palace apartment she shared with King Carlo. As was usual at this time of the evening, the palace’s head of security stood post at the landing, earpiece in place and gun at his hip, watching the comings and goings of those permitted access to the building’s most private area. When his replacement arrived for the night shift, Umberto would head to his palace office, where he’d spend another hour or two ensuring security arrangements were in place for upcoming palace events and reading reports from those he supervised. He was irreplaceable, and Fabrizia thanked her stars every day that the talented man had chosen to work for her when his options were limitless.

  “Good evening, Umberto. Has everyone arrived?”

  “All but Prince Bruno, though I’m told he just pulled into the underground garage.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you.” It would be an interesting night, and likely a difficult one. She couldn’t begin to predict what her children would think when it was all over.

  “Your Highness?”

  She paused two steps above Umberto, which put her nearly at his eye level. “Yes?”

  “If I may say so, your grandson is a charmer.” Umberto’s eyes lit with affection. “Prince Stefano allowed me to hold him when they arrived. I’m quite certain he smiled at me.”

  Fabrizia couldn’t stop the broad grin that came to her face, no matter how undignified it might make her appear. “Dario’s wonderful. Seeing him makes my day and holding him is even better. I couldn’t be happier to be his grandmother.”

  “Then I won’t keep you from him, assuming you can convince King Carlo to relinquish his hold on the child.”

  “Oh, I’m very convincing.” She glanced up the stairs as Sophia’s distinctive laughter echoed from the direction of the apartment, then looked back to Umberto. “If you finish your shift before I see you again, have a good night.”

  He wished her a good night as well, then she proceeded up the final few steps to the hallway that led to her apartment and took a fortifying breath before opening the door. Inside, the atmosphere was even more cheerful than the laughter she’d heard indicated. New parents Megan and Stefano looked on as Sophia held their new baby in one arm while allowing him to grasp her opposite pinkie finger. Vittorio, the crown prince, and his identical twin Alessandro were deep in conversation by the fireplace while Vittorio’s fiancée, Emily, stood near the windows with Prince Massimo and Massimo’s new wife, Kelly, a transplant from Texas. Carlo lingered behind the sofa where Sophia sat with Dario, looking down at his new grandson in open admiration. It was the picture of family togetherness.

  Only Fabrizia noticed the tension in the set of Carlo’s broad shoulders. He met her eyes as she entered, flashing her a smile that spoke of decades of love. Tonight, she knew, that love would be put to the test. Not between them—they’d worked through their own difficulties long ago—but the love and respect their children had for the two of them.

  She paused in the doorway to drink in the sight of her husband, with his thick, precisely-cut salt and pepper hair and the trim physique he worked hard to maintain in order to prolong the years he’d have with his family. The bespoke charcoal suit, cream-colored dress shirt, and elegant Penrose tie spoke to his position, and his sharp gaze hinted at his intellect. But Carlo Barrali was so much more than his appearance. He had a stalwart heart, a quick sense of humor, and an instinct—above all else—to protect both his family and his country, even to his personal detriment.

  She mouthed, “I love you,” before she closed the apartment door and crossed the hardwood floor to the seating area, allowing the clicking of her high heels to alert her offspring of her arrival.

  “Isn’t he amazing?” Sophia cooed while Dario reached for her hair. The infant managed to grab a handful of long, dark strands before Sophia extricated them from his tiny fist. “I don’t know how Megan and Stefano can stand to share him.”

  “At three a.m., I’ll gladly share,” Megan said with a laugh.

  “Anna’s spending the night with a friend again?” Fabrizia asked the question casually, though she secretly hoped her granddaughter’s plans hadn’t changed. Megan and Stefano’s daughter was eleven and a social butterfly when she wasn’t doting on her new baby brother. While Fabrizia loved spending time with Anna whenever possible, she wanted the girl far from the conversation tonight.

  “She is,” Megan replied. “She’ll be sorry she missed seeing her Uncle Bruno while he’s in town.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Stefano said, his eyes going to the apartment door, where Carlo and Fabrizia’s youngest child entered in a rush.

  “Sorry I’m late. Long trip.”

  “Welcome home. We’re glad you could make it on such short notice,” Carlo said, a broad smile lighting his face. Bruno was the one child Fabrizia wasn’t sure about corralling for a family meeting. Visits were rare since he attended college out of the country.

  “Now that we’re all here, what’s this about?” Vittorio, the eldest, asked Carlo. “I thought the logistics for Dario’s christening were finalized last week. Is there a problem?”

  “The christening is going forward exactly as planned,” Carlo told them. “This is another topic. Why don’t you all have a seat? I want everyone’s full attention.”

  Glances were exchanged around the room at the unexpected gravity of King Carlo’s tone. Bruno, Massimo, and Kelly took armchairs while Vittorio, his fiancée, Emily, and Alessandro took the sofa opposite Stefano, Megan, and Sophia. Not for the first time in recent weeks, Fabrizia marveled at how much her family had expanded in the last few years.

  Yes, she thought, now that her children had reached adulthood and were starting their own families, it was high time for this conversation. She took a seat in the l
ast remaining armchair, beside Bruno and opposite where her husband stood to address the group. If any of her children were tempted to walk out before their father finished speaking, her position blocking their path would serve as a deterrent.

  “Is one of you ill?” Sophia asked, unwilling to wait for her father to speak.

  Fabrizia was about to answer when Carlo spoke. “So you won’t feel compelled to speculate, I’ll get right to the point. When I was a teenager, I was involved in an inappropriate relationship with my tutor.”

  Fabrizia started. Despite his penchant for directness, she’d assumed that Carlo, consummate politician that he was, would ease into the topic. Apparently not.

  No one stirred except Sophia, who openly frowned as if she thought he was joking. Her expression transformed as she realized he wasn’t. “Why are you telling us this? Is it about to become public?”

  Alessandro spoke over her. “Why inappropriate? Just how old was this tutor?”

  “She was twenty-eight or twenty-nine, I think, when it began. I was seventeen. And no, to my knowledge, it’s not about to become public, though that may change.” All six of his children gaped at him in a mix of horror and astonishment. He straightened his shoulders. Fabrizia could sense the toll the revelation took on him, but he continued, “I was young and imagined myself mature, given that I was raised in the public eye, so despite our age gap I fancied myself in love with her.”

  “And she told you she was in love with you?” Alessandro, always the most outspoken, scoffed. “That’s a felony.”

  “I am well aware.” Carlo spared Alessandro a cursory glance. “Her name was Teresa Fedeli, though she later married and became Teresa Cornaro. She passed away recently, which is why I’m telling you about this now.”

  Carlo looked to Fabrizia. She nodded, letting him know he had her support before he said to the entire room, “Teresa’s eldest son contacted me yesterday. He wants to meet with me.”

  “For heaven’s sake, why? What does he want?” Vittorio’s hands tensed where he’d braced them on his thighs.

  “Money,” came Alessandro’s quick response. Though he’d said it to Vittorio, it was loud enough for the entire room to hear.

  “He contacted me because he is my son.”

  The room silenced. Even Dario seemed to sense the shift, wrenching his tiny head to blink across the room in his grandfather’s direction. Before anyone could speak, Carlo continued, “In answer to your questions, yes, I’m certain. And yes, he is older than all of you. I was eighteen when he was born.”

  The air in the room thickened with tension. Fabrizia watched as each of her children attempted to reconcile the man they knew as their steadfast, proper father with the irresponsible image he’d conveyed of his youthful self.

  “This is all…out of the blue.” Massimo, usually the quietest of the siblings, spoke first. “I can’t believe you kept a secret of that magnitude, let alone for that long. You were so young. How did your parents deal with it?”

  “They didn’t,” Carlo said simply. “I didn’t tell them. Teresa Fedeli was hired as a tutor for the specific purpose of helping me with my college entrance exams and applications. By the time she started to show, she left my parents’ employ. When Rocco was born, I’d just finished prep school and was less than a month from starting at university. We decided it was best to keep the pregnancy quiet. In fact, Teresa insisted upon it.”

  “So she wouldn’t be brought up on charges, I’m sure.”

  Carlo acknowledged Vittorio’s comment with a tip of his head. “That was part of her thinking, yes, but she also wanted to protect the child. I can’t blame her for that.”

  He crossed the room to stand behind Fabrizia’s chair. Turning, she smiled up at him, then looked back to her children. “You know my marriage to your father was arranged. We didn’t love each other, not in the way married couples should. However, we got along splendidly, and I could tell there was something amiss when we were out on a walk together a few weeks before our wedding.”

  “I told her about Teresa and Rocco,” Carlo said, picking up the story. “It was difficult, because at the time, I was still secretly involved with Teresa. Even though your grandparents had arranged a marriage for me, one I knew was necessary in order to maintain the line of succession, I couldn’t bring myself to cast her aside. She was the mother of my child.”

  Sophia’s face fell. In that split second, Fabrizia witnessed her daughter’s belief in her parents’ relationship crumble. “You were unfaithful during your engagement?”

  Fabrizia felt rather than saw Carlo’s increasing strain. “I didn’t see Teresa often in those days. I was busy finishing my degree and was watched every moment I was outside the palace walls, but yes. That confession—and your mother’s reaction to it—should have proved to me how immature I really was. Even now, all these years later, it’s very difficult to think about. But your mother handled the information with an incredible amount of poise. She asked if I still wished to go through with the wedding. I told her I did, and that I thought we’d have a wonderful future together. What’s truly awful is that I didn’t mean it. I believed I was in love with Teresa. I believed—foolishly—that I could have my heirs with your mother and still carry on my relationship with Teresa. I even thought that perhaps I could marry Teresa someday.”

  If looks could kill, those on the faces of Carlo and Fabrizia’s children would’ve buried Carlo six times over as they stared at him. Unwilling to let her husband suffer the torment alone, Fabrizia rose to stand beside him. Bracing her hands on the back of the armchair, she said, “He wasn’t the only one being immature that day. I may have acted as if I believed him, but I didn’t. Rocco was three and a half years old at the time, no longer an infant. I knew your father well enough by then to realize he’d never abandon his own child. But I believed” —she glanced at Carlo— “foolishly, to use your father’s word, that he would fall in love with me.”

  “Not so foolish.” Carlo’s hand came down on top of hers.

  “You were slow.”

  “Yes.” He focused on his stunned family. “Teresa became pregnant again not long after I graduated college, about seven months after your mother and I married.”

  Jaws dropped. Sophia’s eyes filled with tears, which instantly spilled over. Stefano’s head sank into his hands, and he muttered a vile four-letter word followed by what sounded like, “This is too much.”

  Across from Stefano, Emily’s hand went to Vittorio’s knee. It was obvious the crown prince had done the math in his head.

  “You were already pregnant with Alessandro and me.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Vittorio turned to Alessandro and uttered an expletive Fabrizia had never expected to hear from his lips.

  In a tone that allowed no further outbursts from her children, no matter how warranted those outbursts might be, Fabrizia said, “Yes, I was. When Teresa called your father to inform him of her pregnancy, he immediately came to me and admitted that he’d seen Teresa again. Looking back now, I understand why it was so hard for him to end the relationship. It wasn’t just that he had a son with Teresa, and she was—in his mind—his first love. She was also a manipulative woman. She was older, she was wiser, and she used every trick in the book to keep your father’s attention and make him feel that he owed her his allegiance.” To Carlo, she said, “I hope that’s not overstating. Perhaps that’s your story to tell?”

  “No, you’re right,” he told her. To their children, he explained, “Spending more and more time with your mother made me realize what Teresa was doing. Not because your mother pointed it out, but because I suddenly had a basis for comparison. Your mother epitomized grace, intelligence, and compassion. I saw it in the way she took on her role as princess and worked to improve lives of those who needed assistance, and in the way she related to my parents and siblings. Most of all, I saw it in how she treated me. What I felt for her was different than what I felt for Teresa. It became a deeper, abiding love. T
here was nothing dark about it, nothing sordid. I knew that I had to end it with Teresa, despite the fact she was pregnant, no matter the public consequences.”

  “I persuaded him to wait,” Fabrizia said. “I hadn’t met Teresa, but I knew enough from what your father told me to despise her with every bone in my body for what she’d done to him. Not only because she was older when she pursued him, but because I was certain she got pregnant on purpose. Both times. Still, I wished no ill upon her children, and having your father break off a relationship of so many years while Teresa was pregnant wouldn’t do her health any favors.”

  Fabrizia looked around the room, attempting to gauge her children’s reactions to the barrage of information. Stefano stared at the carpet, as if he could find answers in its intricate pattern. His wife cradled Dario in one arm, but she kept her other hand on Stefano’s thigh. Alessandro rose from his seat to walk to the windows. Bruno appeared shell-shocked. Sophia cried silent tears. Vittorio looked as if he were going to be ill. Massimo and Kelly kept their focus on each other, their gazes saying as plainly as if they said it aloud that they’d discuss their thoughts later, in private.

  Carlo cleared his throat. “By the time the twins were born—actually, let me step back—by the time Teresa’s twins were born—”

  “Wait. What a…” Massimo paused, then let loose with an obscene military expression for messy situations. “Two sets of twins? At the same time? Tell me you’re joking.”

  “I’m not.” Fabrizia heard in the bite of his response that Carlo’s patience was wearing thin. As his nation’s sovereign, he wasn’t used to being interrupted, even by his family, and no one used foul language in his presence. Ever. “By the time Teresa’s twins were born, my father was terminally ill. I couldn’t so much as think about Teresa during those months, between Vittorio and Alessandro’s birth, my father’s illness and death, and then the preparation necessary for me to take the throne. After my investiture, when I could finally breathe, I ended it with Teresa. For good.”