‘You’re meant to be on our side, Liam,’ Izzy said, putting her hands on her hips and giving him a hard stare. ‘You know someone who can sort out a wig and contact lenses by tomorrow morning, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, then. Ring them. And you call Matteo Battaglia, Rina. Tell him you’ve got the worst period in the world so you need a couple of days off, and then you can have your Roman Holiday. Except, obviously, not in Rome,’ Izzy added with a smile. ‘It’d be a London holiday.’
Vittoria shook her head. ‘The press already know I’m staying in your apartment. They’ll look for me.’
‘Then stay somewhere else.’
Vittoria rolled her eyes. ‘I can hardly book somewhere incognito. No, Izzy, it’s a lovely thought, and thank you so much—but it’s completely unworkable.’
* * *
Liam knew he shouldn’t really be encouraging the girls. But he’d seen that moment of longing in Vittoria’s eyes, just before she masked it. He knew how it felt to shoulder greater responsibility than was normal for someone of your age and, while not resenting it, occasionally wanting to escape it and have some time for yourself.
He’d been lucky. Patty, his old tutor, had helped him out. Maybe it was time to pay it forward and give someone else a break. He could make this happen for Vittoria. Give her a respite, just a couple of days to step outside her royal bubble.
And neither of the security details had spoken up to say it was a ridiculous idea, so maybe Izzy’s scheme wasn’t quite so crazy after all.
‘You could stay here, if you wish to stay in London. Or I can book you a suite somewhere, so there isn’t a paper trail back to you.’
Vittoria turned to look at him, her face full of questions.
And that made him push it that little bit further. ‘I also have a bolthole. A cottage by the sea. I was going there anyway this week to do some planning, so you’re very welcome to join me. There’s nothing like the sea to clear your head.’
‘A cottage by the sea...’
‘It has three bedrooms.’ She didn’t need to know that he used one of them as his darkroom. ‘One for you, one for Giorgio—’ he glanced at the bodyguard, who looked approving ‘—and one for me, so I can drive you there and maybe show you round the area if you’d like to explore, or stay out of your way if you just want time to yourself.’
* * *
A few days by the sea. Time for herself—something she wanted so very badly. It was so tempting.
This was only the second time she’d met Liam. Going to his cottage meant entrusting herself to a near-stranger. A man she found distractingly attractive. Which meant this was a bad idea.
On the other hand, he was clearly close to Izzy and treated her as part of his family. Izzy obviously trusted him, or she wouldn’t have spoken so frankly in front of him. She already knew that Pietro approved of him—and the security detail would have raised any concerns with her grandfather before letting Izzy spend time in Liam’s company.
Which meant he was safe.
So did she go with him, take those few days to recharge herself properly? Or did she do what she was supposed to and go back to the palace?
The sensible side of her knew that she should put her duties first. That wanting a break was self-indulgent—no, more than that, it was selfish.
But the part of her she usually kept hidden—the woman Liam had seemed to notice when he’d taken those photographs in the library—wanted to do it.
‘Do it, Rina,’ Izzy urged.
Vittoria looked at her sister and then back at Liam. ‘If you’re sure it’s no trouble?’
He met her gaze. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
There was nothing leering or anything that made her feel uncomfortable in his face. Just fellow feeling—as if he understood what it was like to feel constricted. And that decided her. ‘Thank you. I’ll talk to Matteo Battaglia.’
‘Brilliant.’ Izzy hugged her. ‘This is going to change your life.’
CHAPTER THREE
AT A QUARTER to ten the next morning, Vittoria was ready to go. Izzy and Saoirse had both raided their wardrobes and lent her the kind of clothing that wouldn’t attract a second glance: faded jeans, plain T-shirts and floral canvas pumps.
Liam had called in a couple of favours the previous evening and organised some people to come to Izzy’s flat first thing, ostensibly as suppliers for a student art project, but in reality to sort out contact lenses and a wig for Vittoria’s disguise. She knew they’d be discreet, because they were used to working with celebrity clients and keeping things private. She’d chosen brown contact lenses, on Saoirse’s advice, and a mid-brown wig that looked natural with her skin tone.
The woman who stared back at her from the mirror wasn’t the princess in haute couture and diamonds; she looked like any other professional woman in her late twenties who was getting away from the office for a few days.
‘You look great. Normal,’ Izzy said.
‘Thank you.’ Though Vittoria didn’t feel normal. She felt strange. Borrowed clothes, borrowed hair and eyes... Didn’t they say be careful what you wished for, in case you got it? She’d wanted anonymity. Now she had it. And it wasn’t quite what she’d expected. It felt odd.
‘I feel a bit bad, deserting you on your birthday,’ she said.
Izzy laughed. ‘This is the best birthday present ever. Knowing that you’re actually going to unwind, for once. Anyway, you already celebrated with me last night.’
‘I guess. As long are you’re sure.’
Saoirse’s phone beeped. ‘That’s Liam. He’s waiting outside for you,’ she said.
Izzy hugged her sister. ‘We won’t come down with you, in case the press twig who you are. Have fun and let me know when you’re there safely.’
‘I will.’ Vittoria hugged her back. ‘Thank you. Both of you.’
‘We’ve hardly done anything. We just made a few suggestions and lent you some clothes. It’s Liam who’s actually sprung you from the public eye,’ Izzy said.
And that was something Vittoria hadn’t allowed herself to think about, because it was even more worrying. Spending a few days with the first man in years who’d made her feel something. Particularly as he wasn’t from her background. Hadn’t she learned anything from her experience with Rufus? Royal life was a lot to handle for people who hadn’t been brought up in it. She couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved with someone else who decided he didn’t want that kind of life and would back away from her after she’d lost her heart to him.
She’d almost forgotten herself and kissed Liam in the palace library. In front of the footman, because right at that moment she hadn’t been aware of anyone else in the room apart from Liam MacCarthy. What might happen in a little cottage by the sea? When Giorgio was in his room, and she and Liam were alone? She trusted Liam, but she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted herself.
Was this all a mistake? Was she just being self-indulgent and pathetic, wanting a breather from her responsibilities? Should she say that she’d changed her mind? But everyone had gone to so much trouble to help her that it would feel churlish.
Her nerves grew as she followed Giorgio down the stairs from Izzy’s flat.
‘Liam’s is the grey car, second on the right,’ Giorgio said.
Well, of course Liam would have been in contact with her security detail and kept him informed about everything. Giorgio’s presence and protection was about the only reason why her grandfather wouldn’t be too angry with her when he found out about this—an escapade that would be instantly forgiven had it been Izzy, but the heir to the throne was expected to be much more sensible.
Again, she considered chickening out and going back to her real life.
But she’d felt so constrained, lately. So tired of being told what her duties were, and how she had to get married for the sake of
the monarchy. She’d been longing to escape for months. Besides, this wasn’t running away from her responsibilities for ever: she was simply stealing a couple of days by the sea. Days where she could just be herself.
There were a couple of photographers milling about outside. They’d clearly been tipped off that Princess Vittoria had come to visit her little sister; but Giorgio was good at making himself invisible, and the changes to her own appearance meant that none of them gave her a second glance as she slid into the passenger seat of Liam’s car.
She was very fortunate that Liam wasn’t the sort of man to insist on driving a bright red Ferrari or something similarly eye-catching. An anonymous grey car—even if it did seem to be top of the range—meant that they wouldn’t have to run the gauntlet of the press.
‘Thank you, Mr MacCarthy,’ she said as she fastened her seatbelt.
He pushed his dark glasses up into his hair and looked at her. ‘I thought we’d agreed on first-name terms? Actually, thinking about that, if I call you Vittoria it might make people put two and two together.’
‘So I get a borrowed name as well as borrowed clothes?’ This was a step too far.
‘No. It needs to be something you’ll recognise and react to. We could anglicise your name and shorten it slightly.’ He smiled. ‘Vicky.’
‘Izzy calls me “Rina”.’
‘The press might pick up on that.’
‘Oh.’ She didn’t have an answer to that. ‘OK, I guess I’d better be “Vicky”, then.’
‘Feel free to change the music, Vicky,’ he said with a smile, gesturing to the car’s sound system.
‘It’s fine,’ she said, and kept silent while he drove them out of London, guessing that he might want to concentrate on where they were going.
Once they were on the motorway heading north out of London towards East Anglia, he said, ‘Let me know if you need a comfort break or want to stop for a drink.’
‘Thank you.’
Funny, she had a whole stock of conversational openings designed to put people at their ease. But right now, she couldn’t remember a single one of them; instead, when she opened her mouth, she found herself saying, ‘So what’s the village like?’
‘It’s a traditional fishing village—a harbour, lots of little fishermen’s cottages and a wide sandy beach after the dunes.’ He smiled. ‘If you want a sneak preview, have a look on my website. The beach is the third one on the landscape gallery.’
There was a wide strip of sand that looked golden in the sunlight, darkening as it neared the edge of the sea; a froth of white showed the waves lapping onto the shore, and the sea graduated from turquoise in the shallows through to almost navy at the horizon. The sky was filled with storm clouds, deep and dramatic grey. ‘That’s gorgeous.’
‘It was a lucky shot,’ he said. ‘The sun lit up the sand from behind me, and it was the perfect contrast to the sky. Sometimes you just happen to be in the right place at the right time.’ He paused. ‘So, is there anything particular you’d like to do in your few days of escape?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. It had been so long since she’d had a real choice in what she did, she wasn’t sure where to start. ‘What sort of thing do you normally do?’
‘Walk, work and think,’ he said. ‘Though I’ve lent the cottage to my best friend and his family in the past. I spent some time here with them last summer, so the order of the day was making sandcastles on the beach. We went out on a boat trip to see the seals, and we’ve gone hunting for shells and fossils.’ He gave her a sidelong look. ‘What do you normally do at the beach?’
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the beach just for fun. It was always something to do with conservation, heritage or tourism. ‘I don’t usually have time to go to the beach.’
‘This is your Roman Holiday, Vittoria,’ he said gently. ‘You can do whatever you want.’
She’d got exactly what she’d wished for.
And, now there were no boundaries, it was faintly scary.
She was so used to working with royal protocols; but here, there were no protocols. She wasn’t quite sure what to say or do. She and Liam barely knew each other; they didn’t have a shared history or shared references.
Or maybe she was overthinking this. Maybe they did have a shared frame of reference—he’d been a parent to his little sister at the age of eighteen, and she was about to become queen at the age of twenty-eight. So many responsibilities at such a young age; maybe he’d guessed that she was struggling and he was helping her because he’d been there, too.
This was a step outside her usual life. Something to refresh and revitalise her, to help her cope with the parts of the palace that she found stifling.
An adventure.
So she should just stop worrying and enjoy it.
* * *
It took them three hours to get there, but finally Liam parked in the driveway of a pretty flint and brick cottage. ‘My neighbour who keeps an eye on the place when nobody’s here promised to pick up some milk, bread and a few bits from the deli,’ he said, opening the door and ushering her into the kitchen.
There was a deep red flagstone floor; the walls were painted pale blue and the cupboards were cream. There was an old-fashioned butler’s sink underneath the window and a range cooker nearby. The room was large enough to have a scrubbed pine table and chairs at one end; it looked very much like a family room. Normal. Everyday. All the things she didn’t usually have.
It didn’t take long to view the rest of the house. Next was the living room, with a wood-burning stove, comfortable sofas, and stripped oak floorboards with a patterned red rug in the centre. A steep staircase led to the next floor, which had two rooms—one was a darkroom and one had a double bed—plus a bathroom. There was a second flight of stairs which led to another bedroom which had a wide double bed, a view of the sea and an en-suite shower room.
This was exactly where she could imagine having a bolthole.
‘It’s a lovely house,’ she said. But there was one thing bothering her. He’d said there were three bedrooms. She’d only seen two.
‘Choose whichever bedroom you’d like,’ Liam said.
She really would have to say something now. ‘But there are only two.’
‘One of them doubles as my darkroom. I’ll sleep there on the sofa bed.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t ask you to do that.’
‘It’s what I normally do if I have friends staying,’ he said. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Then, if you’re sure, I’d like the room on the top floor, please.’ She’d loved it at first sight: it was light and airy.
‘Good choice,’ Liam said. ‘The view first thing is gorgeous. I’ll leave you to freshen up while I sort out lunch.’
‘I’ll bring everything in from the car,’ Giorgio said, and Liam handed over his car keys with a smile of thanks.
Her surroundings were much simpler than what she was used to, but utterly charming. The whole place had a feeling of warmth—a feeling of family. Like rare days at the palace when her mother and grandmother had gone to see friends, and she could walk around the gardens with her grandfather, as she’d once done with her father, have a simple lunch with him and forget the weight of her future crown. Or when Izzy was home and she managed to get time off, so they could both curl up on the window seat in her room and talk...
Giorgio brought up her bags; she thanked him, called Izzy to let her know they’d arrived and the cottage was lovely, unpacked, then freshened up and went downstairs.
Liam had laid the table in the kitchen with salad, fresh bread, cheese, ham and what looked like dressed crab.
‘It’s all local produce,’ he said. ‘Even the coffee’s roasted by the local deli.’
‘And I didn’t let him make the coffee, so it’s safe to drink,’ Giorgio said with a grin.
Vittoria noticed that her bodyguard had already become friendly with Liam, to the point where they were comfortable teasing each other. It was a good thing; but it was also unsettling, because she wasn’t sure what her own relationship was with Liam. They were acquaintances—she knew he was close to her sister—and she thought they could easily become friends. She liked him instinctively. But he was also a man who made her feel things she couldn’t afford to feel, and she needed to get herself back under control. Fast.
‘This all looks delicious—thank you,’ she said. ‘But I don’t expect you to wait on me, and I’ll do the washing up.’
He raised an eyebrow.
Did he really think she was that spoiled and privileged? That stung. ‘Yes, I do know how to wash up. I fended for myself when I was a student,’ she said coolly.
‘I apologise. I didn’t mean to assume that you were helpless.’
But he clearly had made that assumption. ‘And I can cook,’ she said. ‘I like cooking; I just don’t get the chance to do it much.’
‘Then if you’d like to cook while you’re here, do it,’ he said.
And that took all her defensiveness away.
This man had been kind enough to help give her a couple of days of freedom from the pressure of always being on show in her normal life; yet she’d snapped at him. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be snippy with you.’
‘It’s fine,’ he said.
She really hoped that wasn’t pity in his eyes.
‘So what would you like to do after lunch?’ he asked.
‘Could we go for a walk on the beach, then pick up some shopping for dinner?’
Harlequin Romance April 2021 Box Set Page 34