On the other hand, Frannie lived a simple life at the shelter, one without creature comforts, and never once complained. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, remembering the expression on her face when he withdrew the plush white robe from the box. Her dark eyes had widened and her lips had parted. Then he’d lifted the card and started to read. Excitement had thrummed through him…and she’d called him Your Highness. Tried to reject the gift as too extravagant, never mind that it was just that, a gift. It wasn’t intended for practicality, but to be enjoyed.
She’d finally relented and she’d written what he was sure must’ve been a gracious note to the designer. It’d thrilled him to see her wear it when she crossed the compound en route to the shower house.
The sound of Emily’s carefree laughter carried to his ears.
The first time he met Emily Sinclair, at the season finale of her television show At Home Abroad a little over a year ago, they’d hit it off. Alessandro admired her work ethic and her easy way with people from all backgrounds and walks of life, from the back streets of Buenos Aires to the palace halls in Sarcaccia.
From the first word he’d uttered, Emily had been able to tell Alessandro from Vittorio.
Just as Frannie had been able to tell, once she’d met them both.
He closed his eyes once more. He couldn’t imagine a woman more perfect for him than Frannie. What he wouldn’t do to have her in his life. If only—
“Tired?” His sister, Sophia, came to stand beside him at the window. “Or contemplating when you can safely escape to pursue other activities?”
He angled his head to smile at her. “Neither. Just thinking.”
“That’s a first.” She set her wineglass on the windowsill, then used both hands to lift her hair so it fell behind her shoulders. “We haven’t had time to talk since you returned home. What do you think of Kilakuru and the shelter?”
“It’s wonderful. Unplugged, but never quiet.” Imagining the island coaxed a smile from him. “You hear the birds and the wind and the rush of the ocean at all hours. Everyone’s friendly. It’s a true community. And the kids at the shelter are amazing. I could talk about them for hours. They’ve been through so much, yet for the most part, they’re optimistic. They value their friendships with each other and love the staff. They even love school. They take nothing for granted.”
“Well, if that’s all.” One of her dark brows rose fractionally as she looked sideways at him. “Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I am. It’s been good for me.” His gaze traveled across the palace’s verdant gardens toward the far wing of the palace. The gray gravel of the garden paths, the spray of water from the fountain, the sparkling chandeliers visible in the arched windows of the palace’s ground floor…all of it familiar, imbued with a sense of home, yet a million miles from the rough and tumble lushness of the island.
“You have three more weeks there?”
“You’ve been keeping track.”
“Mother has. She always counts the days when you’re away.”
“When any of us are away.” Queen Fabrizia’s concern was difficult to hide during Vittorio’s long sojourn to Argentina. Alessandro angled a look at his sister as Sophia picked up her drink. “By the way, when I was packing the boxes to send to Kilakuru, what made you suggest the scented soap?”
Her long fingers tightened around the glass. “I don’t know. It was so long ago. It’s an item everyone can use and it’s easy to ship, I suppose. Why?”
Her apparent forgetfulness didn’t fool him for a minute. “Why verveine? Why not lavender or honey, since Sarcaccia is known for those?”
She lifted and dropped one shoulder. “Frannie’s mother sent it to her while we were at university. I thought she’d appreciate it, plus it’s a scent few find offensive, so it’s one others are likely to enjoy.”
He pinned her with a look. “So you were aware that Frannie Lawrence runs the shelter. Funny, you never mentioned her when we packed the boxes.”
Chapter 22
Sophia drew back in surprise. “Of course. You didn’t?”
He laughed. “Oh, Sophia. Don’t pretend. You knew I had no idea. It must have taken quite the conversational gymnastics on your part to help me pack those boxes, yet not mention Frannie and make it all seem completely natural.”
Despite being caught, she feigned offense. “That’s ridiculous. Why would I lie to you?”
“That’s what I’m attempting to determine. It wasn’t a coincidence that you appeared at my apartment door to borrow a book at the exact same time I’d requested the staff come to help me pack a shipment to the island. You took the time to inspect my selections—the games, the magic kits, the kaleidoscopes—and were very quick to suggest the soaps and the sports equipment.”
“I’m brilliant that way.”
“I don’t deny that—well, I might to our siblings” —he angled his head toward the center of the room— “but you had those ideas in mind when you arrived. And you knew Frannie would be the beneficiary. The question is why.”
“Because she’s my friend?”
“And you wanted her to have a meaningful, intimate gift. From me. And without my knowing that’s what I was doing.”
“Believe what you want.” Sophia huffed and faced the gardens again. “I think you’ve grown accustomed to manipulative women. Now you see it in every female who enters your orbit, whether they’re manipulating you or not.”
“That’s not true. Not all women.” For the first time in his life, he believed that, now that he knew Frannie and the other women at the shelter. They cared nothing for his title, his wealth, or what physical pleasure he might give them.
Though he hoped Frannie had at least considered the last after the kisses they’d shared.
He set his Aberlour on the windowsill and looked at his sister. “In this case, however, you were manipulative. But given Frannie’s very happy reaction to the soap, I suspect you were looking out for my best interests. Ensuring my volunteer time began on the right foot, perhaps. If that was the case…thank you.”
Sophia narrowed her eyes, refusing to confirm his suspicions, then she softened. “You’re welcome.”
A wave of laughter rose behind them. Sophia and Alessandro both glanced over their shoulders to see everyone cackling in Bruno’s direction. Bruno beamed as if he’d stunned the room with a rare joke.
The queen stood, then announced that the palace chef had set up a dessert buffet in an adjacent room. “I realize that we’re all worried about how our clothes will fit tomorrow, but he’s assured me it’s all delightful and nothing is too heavy. I plan to partake and perhaps enjoy a sip or two of cognac.”
“That’s our cue,” Sophia said, a wily look in her eye. “I talked Chef Fournier into making a tray of meringue with blueberries. I want to make sure I have a few.”
“A few?”
“More than a few.”
Alessandro offered his arm to escort his younger sister to the buffet, but was stopped by Vittorio. “No, not you, best man. You and I are taking a walk through the garden. Sophia would be happier sharing those meringues with Emily, anyway.”
“She eats a lot less than you do,” Sophia noted, then gave Alessandro a quick kiss on the cheek before bolting for the adjacent room.
The brothers watched as the women disappeared through the doors leading to the adjacent room. Alessandro cocked a brow at his twin. “You’re denying me meringues for a walk in the garden?”
“We can swing by the kitchen later, if you’d like. I asked Chef Fournier to set aside extras of everything in case Emily and I wanted them tomorrow night.”
“You’re assuming you’ll be one of those couples who miss eating on their wedding day?”
“I’m taking every precaution against it.”
Vittorio finished his drink, then crossed to the sideboard and left the empty glass on a tray. Alessandro did the same, then spun to follow Vittorio to the garden. The crown prince appeared outwar
dly relaxed as they descended the wide marble staircase and paused to greet Umberto, the head of palace security, who stood sentry at the base.
“Prince Vittorio, Prince Alessandro. Heading to the gardens for a stroll?”
“Thought we could use the peace and quiet before the pandemonium begins tomorrow.”
Umberto, a towering man with a rock-hard jaw and tight, military haircut, graced them with a rare smile. “It’s a beautiful evening for it. You may have noticed that, given the number of people in town for the wedding, I’ve assigned a guard to each exterior door. If you’d like more privacy, I’ll have them step inside.”
Vittorio waved off the suggestion. “We’ll be fine. Thank you, Umberto.”
The crown prince’s tone conveyed nonchalance, yet as the men exited the palace and stepped onto the garden’s gravel path, Alessandro sensed tension within his brother. Vittorio’s suggestion that they head toward the benches on the other side of the fountain, away from the guards who manned the doors, confirmed his suspicion.
Whatever bothered Vittorio, he wished to be alone to discuss it.
“I managed to switch the carriages,” Alessandro said as they moved out of earshot of the guards.
“Do I want to know how?”
“No.”
That elicited a grin from Vittorio before he paused near one of the ornate benches on the far side of the fountain. Water sprayed high in the air, then splashed down into the pool in a steady rhythm. It had a calming effect on the spirit. It also obscured the sound of their conversation.
Alessandro sat on the bench, crossed his arms over his chest, then kicked out his legs and tipped his head to observe the night sky. “Are we to stare at the stars and smile as if you’re a carefree groom while you tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I’m that transparent?”
“Only to me. Possibly to Mother. I suspect that when she’s on her deathbed, she’ll confess her ability to read minds.”
Vittorio sat beside Alessandro, but kept his gaze on the fountain. For a long minute, he sat in silence. Then he said, “How have you been doing with the children on Kilakuru?”
“Surely that’s not why you brought me here.”
“Humor me.”
Alessandro shrugged, keeping his face angled toward the sky. Briefly, he told his brother about Naomi. Her silence, her sweet smiles, her theft—which brought a snort of amusement from Vittorio—and the day she first spoke. His hope that it would lead to conversation with others. He mentioned Johnny, Tehani, and several of the other children. The rambunctiousness of the toddlers…and the deep respect he had for those who worked in the nursery. “Their energy is boundless,” he told Vittorio.
Finally, he described Remy and the boy’s attachment to Humphrey. “I worry most for him,” he admitted. Though Alessandro hadn’t contemplated it until now, Remy’s situation struck him as the most dire of all the children. “Most of those who were orphaned will likely find homes as residents return to the island. They have extended families who we hope will eventually take them in. Remy has no one. His extended family is in the Marquesas and hadn’t spoken to his parents in years. They have no interest in him.”
“He sounds like a wonderful boy,” Vittorio said. “Once the economy on the island is stabilized, his situation may look different.”
“I hope so. He’s able to stay in school and he’s well-loved at the shelter, but it’s not the same as having a true family. Even he knows it.” Alessandro angled his gaze toward his brother. “I assume you’re asking about children for a reason?”
“I’ve wondered if you see yourself as a father someday, given your experience with the children on the island.”
Alessandro looked to the stars again. He could pick out Orion’s Belt, but few other stars were visible, given the bright lights of the city. “Six months ago, I would have said sure. But it would have been an automatic response. One of those ‘someday’ answers that means nothing. But now? Yes. They’re a pain in my ass sometimes and they’re exhausting, but at the end of a day with them, I go to bed feeling perfectly content. I can only imagine what being a father is like.”
Vittorio’s answering chuckle held an odd note. Alessandro straightened on the bench and frowned at his brother. “Emily’s pregnant, isn’t she? That’s why you’re asking about children.”
Really, he was the last person Vittorio should talk to if he was worried about how to handle fatherhood. Stefano already had a son and a daughter. He and his wife, Megan, were doing a wonderful job raising them, despite the spotlight on the family.
“No, she’s not.” He planted his elbows on his thighs and steepled his fingers to his chin, then cocked his head toward Alessandro. “But that is why I wanted to talk to you. I should have done it in the car yesterday—I wanted to—but it didn’t feel right.”
A sense of foreboding crept up his spine. “What didn’t feel right?”
“There’s no way to say this but to come right out with it.” He turned on the bench so he fully faced Alessandro. “It’s highly unlikely Emily and I will ever have children. The press hasn’t discovered it yet, but when she was twenty-three, Emily was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. She’s perfectly healthy now, thank God, but at the time, the recommended course of chemotherapy for her stage and type of cancer was one that frequently causes ovarian failure. In her case, it did.”
Vittorio sounded matter-of-fact, but Alessandro knew it must’ve taken his brother—and Emily—a great deal of time to come to terms with such a sad reality.
Before Alessandro could express his sorrow, Vittorio continued, “Emily had eggs harvested first, so there’s a possibility. However, the odds aren’t in our favor. It’s much tougher to have a successful pregnancy from a frozen egg than from an embryo. We’ve already seen a fertility specialist. Two of them. For us to have a child…well, it’d be close to a miracle.”
Alessandro pushed to stand. From birth, Vittorio had been raised to carry on the Barrali line. He faced far more pressure than most crown princes to do so. Under the treaty Sarcaccia signed to gain its independence, a Barrali had to hold the throne. Once the Barrali line ended, the island would revert to Italian control.
Wonderful as Italy might be, Sarcaccians were proud of their independent status.
“I’m so sorry, Vittorio.”
“Don’t be. I have Emily. I can honestly say that I’m happy, whether or not we have children.”
Alessandro stared at the fountain for a moment, then walked behind the bench, braced his hands on the backrest beside his brother, and stared at the water as the enormity of Vittorio’s revelation settled upon him. Deep breaths didn’t ease the ache in his chest. He felt raw. Scraped out from the inside and left to rot.
“Don’t look so maudlin.” Vittorio aimed a look toward the nearest door, where a sentry stood watch. “Look as if we’re having a relaxed, pre-wedding talk. Bonding.”
“It’s hard not to be maudlin. I know how much you want children. How much you’re expected to have children.”
“By the country, perhaps. But not by Mother and Father. When Emily and I informed them of our situation, my bride-to-be actually offered not to marry me. She insisted that the country should come first. Of course, they wouldn’t hear of it.” He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “They knew you could do the job. They also knew I’d never be happy without Emily. I told them I’d gladly step aside and have you assume the role of crown prince. Permanently.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
From the moment he’d left Frannie on Kilakuru, he’d dreamed of ways he could make right all the wrongs he’d committed in his life. How he could make himself worthy of her. He’d almost convinced himself that if he extended his stay on Kilakuru, he might—might—overcome his past. He hadn’t quite believed it, but in his gut, he still had hope.
But now…if he were to become king after his father, would Frannie even have him? He’d be under more scrutiny than ever. And his lifestyle would be nothing
like Frannie’s.
He tightened his grip on the back of the bench, then released it and moved to sit beside his brother.
“You’d do a great job, Alessandro.”
“That’s the least of my worries,” he snapped, then regretted it. “Not that I should have any worries. What you and Emily must be going through...knowing you may never have children, knowing the reasons may become public—”
“We don’t care. We can always adopt. The child wouldn’t inherit, but it doesn’t matter to me. Falling in love with Emily has changed everything for me. My view of the world—and my role in it—is vastly different than it was before I met her.”
Alessandro couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating laugh. Oh, how he knew that to be true.
Vittorio’s expression changed. “The world has officially tilted on its axis. You’re in love.”
Oh, he hated that his twin could read him so well. Still, Alessandro scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He immediately realized Sophia had uttered the same phrase only moments before, when he’d accused her of lying.
“It’s Francesca Lawrence, isn’t it? The woman you mentioned to me at the Sarcaccia F.C. game we attended after I returned from Argentina? I met her before you went to Kilakuru. She applied to the Barrali Trust for funding.” A slow grin spread across Vittorio’s face. “You’ve always liked the name Francesca.”
“It’s Frannie.”
His lips quirked. “Frannie?”
“That’s what she prefers.”
Vittorio was quiet for a long moment, then cast a sidelong glance at Alessandro. “You don’t deny being in love with her. And now you’re worried about how my news will affect your relationship.”
Alessandro gritted his teeth. No, he didn’t deny it. Couldn’t deny it. But that didn’t mean it was right. “There’s nothing to deny because there’s no relationship. I’m not the right person for her.”
“Ouch. She actually said that?”
“Of course not.” Alessandro rolled his eyes. “You, of all people, know my faults. I’m your mirror. Where you’re reserved and thoughtful, where you’re duty-bound and honorable, I’m…not that.”
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