‘Hey, there.’ Saoirse greeted him with a hug. ‘Did you have a good trip?’
Not quite how he’d phrase it, but he didn’t want her to worry. ‘Fine. And thanks for leaving me to my darkroom whenever you got in.’
‘Of course. I know better than to risk ruining undeveloped negatives or a pile of new photographic paper. You drilled into me years ago that even a couple of seconds of light from the screen of a mobile phone would wreck things.’ She smiled at him. ‘Help yourself to pizza.’
‘Thanks. Your grandfather sends his love, Izzy,’ he said.
‘He obviously liked you,’ Izzy said with a grin. ‘Did Rina give you a message for me?’
‘She sends her r—love, too,’ Liam said, but Izzy had already noticed the slip.
‘What did she really say?’ Izzy demanded.
He grimaced. ‘Give my regards to Princess Isabella when you see her next.’
Izzy whistled. ‘You clearly upset her.’
He wasn’t going to tell her what he’d done. Instead, he made a noncommittal noise.
‘Actually, it probably wasn’t you.’ Izzy pulled a face. ‘Mamma’s got it into her head that Rina needs to marry before she becomes queen. She says there has to be a royal marriage and then the coronation.’
Liam damped down his instant reaction. Of course it would be an arranged marriage. Vittoria di Sarda would have to get married for political reasons. Even if she didn’t, marriage to a commoner would hardly go down well with her people, would it?
And why was he even thinking about marriage and Vittoria, anyway? He didn’t want to get married to anyone, let alone a woman he’d only met once. He’d been let down by too many girlfriends who expected his undivided attention. Maybe he’d just never managed to pick Ms Right, who’d understand that his family and his career were both important to him; but he was tired of feeling torn between his love life, his career and his family.
‘An arranged marriage?’ Saoirse looked shocked.
‘Because she’s going to be queen.’ Izzy folded her arms. ‘And the man Mamma’s suggested—he’d suffocate her. He’s dull and all he cares about is money and fast cars.’
So her husband wouldn’t see the beautiful princess sitting on the window seat and dreaming. He’d see the haughty woman in the Throne Room.
‘Mamma had probably been on at her all morning about it and she’d had enough, and she took it out on you. I hope you didn’t take it to heart if she did the Scary Winter Queen act on you.’ Isabella sighed. ‘Though I suppose that means Nonno got his stuffed waxwork.’
No way was he showing Izzy all the shots he’d taken, but he could soften it a bit for her. ‘I took some shots in the Throne Room, as requested by your grandfather.’ He smiled. ‘And I asked your sister if I could take some in the library.’
‘You really did take some for me?’ Izzy beamed. ‘Thank you. I’ll make you coffee for the whole of the next week, for that.’
Liam couldn’t hold back a smile. Izzy was irrepressible.
‘So when do I get to see the shots?’ Izzy asked.
‘After your grandfather’s approved them.’
Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘This is my sister we’re talking about.’
‘And your grandfather is my client,’ he reminded her, ‘so he gets to see them first. If he chooses to share them with you, that’s his decision. It’s not mine to make.’ Izzy’s face fell, and he took pity on her. ‘Here. These are the ones I took for you.’ He handed her the prints.
She and Saoirse pored over them together in silence.
‘Liam, I always knew you were good, but that’s stunning,’ Saoirse said at last. ‘I think these are the best pictures you’ve ever taken.’
No, they weren’t. But the evidence of that was staying private.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful picture of Rina.’ Izzy fished out her favourite. ‘In her happy place, too. She loves that library. And I...’ Izzy swallowed hard. ‘That’s... Thank you. I’m not going to worry about the other pictures, now. Even though the pose might be stuffy, I know you won’t have made her a waxwork. That’s my sis—’ She gulped the rest of the word off.
Saoirse hugged her. ‘Iz. Now isn’t the time to get homesick and be miserable. We have exams in a month.’
‘I know. It’s just... I miss her, Sursh. And it’s my birthday next week.’ She bit her lip. ‘I know it’s not special, like my twenty-first—’ like Saoirse, Izzy had taken a couple of gap years before deciding on her university course ‘—but it still doesn’t feel right not to spend the day with any of my family.’
Liam thought he must’ve gone temporarily insane, because the words came out before he could stop them. ‘Why don’t you see if your sister can juggle her schedule and come to London? Even if it’s just for one day. And even if she can’t, I’ll cook you a birthday dinner and Saoirse will make you a birthday cake. We think of you as family,’ he added gruffly.
‘Liam, you’re brilliant. Thank you.’ Izzy hugged him. ‘And you’re family. You’re the big brother I never had.’
‘That’s all sorted, then.’ He wriggled out of the hug. ‘I have work to do. See you later, girls.’
* * *
Liam didn’t hear anything from the girls later in the week about Vittoria coming to see Izzy, so he assumed the schedule-juggling didn’t work out. He also assumed that Izzy and Saoirse would want to go out with their friends on Izzy’s birthday, so he arranged for Izzy to have dinner with them on the Monday night, the day before her birthday.
He marinaded chicken mini fillets in lemon juice before wrapping them in prosciutto and sage, prepped new potatoes for roasting, and asparagus and Cavalo Nero for steaming. He bought some of the first English strawberries along with shortbread thins and some clotted cream for pudding. Saoirse had made an incredibly rich chocolate cake and sprayed it with edible gold paint, and Liam had bought a cake fountain to top it. Saoirse had decorated their kitchen with birthday-themed bunting, and there was Prosecco chilling in the fridge.
Half an hour before Izzy was due to arrive, Saoirse came into the kitchen where Liam was sorting out last minute details, holding her mobile phone. ‘You know you made extra chicken so Pietro could eat with us and you could have some cold for dinner tomorrow?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Could dinner stretch to two extra guests?’
All he’d have to do was prep some more veg. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘Vittoria’s managed to come to London, after all. It’s all been a bit last minute. Izzy doesn’t want to dump us, because she knows you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make a fuss of her. And she’s worrying about asking you if her sister and her security detail can come for dinner, too, because she thinks she’s being entitled.’
Vittoria di Sarda.
Here, in his flat.
Liam’s heart skipped a beat.
‘Tell Izzy it’s fine,’ he said, trying to sound as casual as he could.
He was glad that he had to spend time prepping more veg and re-laying the table, because that stopped him having time to think about Vittoria being here. Which was ridiculous in itself. He knew perfectly well that she wasn’t coming here to see him; she was in London to see her sister. All he was doing was hosting dinner.
But he still remembered how Vittoria had looked in the library, in that moment when he’d almost kissed her, and anticipation prickled down his spine. How would it be when he saw her again? Would she be the formal queen-to-be or would her softer side come out because her little sister was here?
Half an hour later, the flat intercom buzzed, and Saoirse let their guests in.
Izzy came in and hugged Liam before introducing her sister and Giorgio, Vittoria’s security detail.
Even though this was a relaxed dinner with her sister, Vittoria was wearing formal business dress—a navy dress with a m
atching jacket that Liam recognised from his studio work as haute couture, teamed with high-heeled court shoes and a little clutch bag. Her hair and make-up were immaculate; and her jewellery was minimal, diamond earrings and a simple pendant necklace.
She looked every inch a princess.
‘Benvenuto nelle nostre casa, Vostre Altezza Reale,’ Liam said with a small half-bow.
‘Thank you, Mr MacCarthy,’ she said, her voice equally formal.
Right. So it was definitely the princess rather than the girl in the library who was his guest. He’d make sure he behaved accordingly.
Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘For pity’s sake, you two. Stop being so stuffy. I know you’ve met on official palace business, but tonight isn’t palace business, so let me introduce you properly. Rina, this is Liam, who’s the nearest I’m going to get to a big brother. Liam, this is my big sister, Rina.’ She gave both of them a steely look. ‘Surely you get fed up to the back teeth of the formality at home, Rina? And as for you, Liam—’ She shook her head in apparent despair. ‘Don’t treat my sister like some visiting dignitary.’
‘Strictly speaking,’ he pointed out, ‘that’s what she is.’
‘She’s my sister. Tonight’s a sort of family dinner,’ Izzy protested. ‘And it’s my birthday—’
‘So you can act like a princess if you want to,’ Liam teased.
She cuffed him. ‘For that, I’m not letting Rina give you what she brought you.’
‘Ah, now. Manners, young lady. We should always bring our host a gift when we’re invited somewhere.’
Liam gave Vittoria a sidelong look. The love for her sister in her eyes and her teasing expression were both vivid, and he itched to photograph her.
‘Thank you for having us to dinner—may I call you Liam?’ she asked. ‘Izzy’s right. Tonight isn’t the night for formality.’
‘Of course.’ The way she spoke his given name made a shiver run down his spine.
‘Good. And thank you especially for letting us come at such short notice,’ Vittoria continued. ‘It’s not much of a gift, but we brought wine; and Izzy says you like cooking.’
‘I do.’
She handed him a bottle of olive oil. ‘This is from San Rocello. Extra-virgin, first pressing.’
Was she giving him an economist’s spiel, or was she talking as someone who liked food and would spend time in the kitchen if she could? Izzy made great coffee, but always burned toast because she was too scatty to pay attention. But in that one photographic sitting he’d worked out that Vittoria paid attention to detail...
Then Liam made the mistake of looking into those amazing eyes. ‘Grazie, ma—’ He stopped himself. She’d practically given him permission to use her first name. ‘Thank you, Vittoria.’
For a moment, everyone else in the room was forgotten: his sister, hers, Pietro and Giorgio. It was just the two of them. A heartbeat. Two. He almost reached out to take her hand...
And then he shook himself. ‘May I offer you a drink? Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.’
He sorted out the drinks, seated everyone at the table and served dinner.
‘Our grandfather was very pleased with the portraits you sent him,’ Vittoria said.
‘Good.’ Which meant they would be used; and it was quite likely that one of them would end up in the National Portrait Gallery.
‘And Izzy sent me the ones you took for her.’
His eyes met hers. Did she wonder what had happened to the photograph from that more private moment? Maybe he’d show her. But not now. ‘Did you like them?’ he asked instead.
‘You’re very talented,’ she said.
Which wasn’t the same as saying that she liked them. It was a diplomat’s reply.
‘Liam’s really good,’ Saoirse said.
‘And dinner’s getting cold,’ he pointed out, hoping it would change the subject.
Everyone ate with gusto, to his relief. After everyone had finished pudding, he brought the birthday cake over to the table and lit the fountain candle, then they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Izzy—himself and Saoirse in English, and Vittoria, Pietro and Giorgio switching to the Italian. ‘Tanti auguri a te...’
When the cake fountain had finished, Izzy closed her eyes to make a wish, then started cutting the cake.
‘I’ll make coffee to go with the cake,’ Liam suggested.
‘No! Anyone but you on coffee duty,’ Izzy begged.
‘My coffee isn’t that bad,’ Liam protested.
‘Yes, it is. You microwave it when it gets cold. Your coffee is awful,’ Saoirse agreed.
‘Really awful. I’ll make it,’ Pietro said, and proceeded to sort it out.
‘Don’t be offended,’ Vittoria said. ‘Nobody’s good at everything—and the chicken was quite delicious.’
Liam could tell she’d been well schooled in diplomacy. Nobody’s good at everything... He wondered what she might not be good at, then pushed the thought away; it was none of his business.
* * *
‘Happy birthday, piccola,’ Vittoria said, and raised her glass of Prosecco in a toast to her little sister.
Izzy beamed. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Rina. I didn’t think you’d have time to see me, so I was thinking about skiving off and coming home for a couple of days.’
‘Which isn’t a good idea, so close to your exams. And of course I’d make time for you. I always will. You’re my little sister and I love you.’
Vittoria couldn’t help glancing at Liam; she could see in his face that he understood exactly where she was coming from. It was the same for him.
‘I just wish Mamma wasn’t putting all this pressure on you to get married,’ Izzy said, frowning. ‘It’s utterly ridiculous. Why on earth do you have to get married before you become queen? This is the twenty-first century, not the sixteenth.’
‘It’s just how it is,’ Vittoria said gently. Though she, too, wished she didn’t have to get married. She knew it was her duty, and she’d do what was expected of her; but she wanted enough time to get to know her future partner and grow to at least respect him, if not fall in love with him, before they married.
What she’d seen of José so far didn’t fill her with much hope. All they had in common was a royal background. He adored fast cars and sport, which bored her; and she liked exploring gardens and nature, which bored him.
‘There’s so much pressure on you,’ Izzy continued. ‘Once you get married and become queen, you’ll lose the little freedom you have now. When was the last time you had some time to yourself?’
Vittoria thought about it and couldn’t remember.
She’d clearly taken too long to answer, because Izzy pounced. ‘Exactly. The palace suffocates you, Rina.’
Vittoria was going to deny it, but she knew her sister would call her on it. ‘It’s just how it is,’ she said again.
‘Why don’t you take some time for yourself now?’
‘Now?’
‘While you’re in London.’ Izzy brightened. ‘Like a modern-day Roman Holiday.’
Vittoria groaned. Her sister was a huge Audrey Hepburn fan, so Vittoria had ended up seeing the film a gazillion times. ‘It’s a lovely film, piccola, but it’s of its time. Back in the nineteen-fifties, someone might notice a princess—but then they’d have to go and find a phone before they could tell the press about it, so the princess would have time to escape. Nowadays, almost everyone has a mobile phone, so they’d snap a picture or take a video, and it would be round the world in three seconds flat.’ Which was why she had to be in strict control of every single second of every single day, making sure that the paparazzi never saw her frowning or bored or cross. She had an image to uphold.
‘If you looked like you do right now,’ Liam said, ‘that’s true. But if you didn’t...’
That got her attention. She looked at him�
�and oh, those cornflower-blue eyes felt as if they could see into her soul.
‘What are you saying?’
‘Dress differently and change your hair. People might give you a second glance and think that you look a bit like Princess Vittoria—but then they’d see what you were wearing, realise that a princess wouldn’t scruff around in chain store jeans and canvas shoes because she always wears a haute couture dress or suit and designer heels, and they’d move on. Leaving you in peace.’
Anonymity.
Given how much her mother was pressuring her right now, Vittoria really wanted a respite; it was why she’d carved time she didn’t really have out of her schedule to come to London and see her sister, to grab a few little moments of joy to see the person she loved most in the world.
And now she was being offered a couple of days where she could be herself instead of a queen-in-waiting. Just a little time out before she stepped back into her real world.
‘It’d be really easy to change your hair,’ Izzy said.
‘I can’t cut it or dye it,’ Vittoria warned.
‘You don’t need to,’ Saoirse said. ‘Remember what my brother does for a living. And he’s done a few fashion shoots so he knows loads of people who work in wardrobe departments—people who can get you a wig. Something that’ll suit your skin colouring but won’t attract notice: say, mid-brown hair in a chin-length bob,’ she added thoughtfully.
‘You could borrow some clothes from me, or from Sursh,’ Izzy added. ‘We’re all about the same size.’
‘And you’ll need contact lenses, because your gorgeous eyes are a giveaway,’ Saoirse said. ‘Brown eyes. They’ll go with your colouring, too, and they’re practically invisible.’
‘Hang on, guys. Princess Vittoria can’t just do things on a whim. She has a schedule,’ Liam said.
Vittoria exchanged a glance with him. It seemed he understood her life. Then again, he also worked to a schedule and had the pressure of other people’s deadlines—something their sisters were both yet to really experience.
Did he ever feel stifled by his job? Or, when he’d shouldered the responsibility of bringing up his sister at the age of eighteen, had he felt trapped at the same time as loving her dearly? Because, right now, that was exactly how she felt: she loved her grandfather dearly and she would never shy away from her duty, but she needed some space. Just a little time for herself. Time where she could blend into the crowd, be just another one of the billions of people on the planet.
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