by Kate Hardy
‘A jar is fine. Gravy?’
‘I think,’ he said carefully, ‘I might put you in charge of gravy.’
She smiled. ‘So you’re learning to delegate?’
He coughed. ‘I believe your brother had a saying about pots and kettles.’
She laughed. ‘OK. You have a point. I’m not very good at delegating, either.’ But his mention of Nathan made her eyes prickle. ‘I miss him. Nathan.’
‘Me, too,’ Antonio admitted.
‘I was thinking. If our baby really is a boy, I’d like to call him Nathan—after my brother and my dad.’ Though Nathan wasn’t the only one Antonio had lost. ‘And maybe his middle name could be Vincenzo, after your dad?’
‘That,’ Antonio said, ‘would be perfect.’
Would the baby’s last name be Valenti or Phillips? They still hadn’t agreed on that bit. But this was a step in the right direction, she thought. They were starting to meet in the middle.
But Tia found herself enjoying the afternoon, preparing dinner together with Christmas music playing softly in the background. It really felt like the Christmases of her childhood, memories that pierced her heart with their sweetness.
Before their guests arrived, she showered and changed into the pretty dress Gina had bought for her.
‘You look lovely,’ Antonio said.
‘Thank you.’ So did he, in a formal white shirt, beautifully cut dark suit and understated silk tie. And his shoes were polished the same way as she remembered Nathan and her father polishing theirs, to a military mirror finish.
But could the Soldier Prince allow himself to be ruffled just enough at the edges to deal with a baby?
She pushed the thought aside. Not now. He’d gone to a lot of effort for her, and she wasn’t going to start complaining.
Their guests arrived, and Antonio introduced Tia to Gina and her husband Enrico.
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Tia said, hugging Gina. ‘And thank you so much for finding me such beautiful clothes. It was so kind of you.’
‘My pleasure, piccola,’ Gina said, hugging her back.
Once their guests were seated, Tia helped Antonio bring in the first course, and then the dishes for the main. He carved the turkey at the table, just as she remembered her father doing when she was small, and they all helped themselves to the sides.
Tia was surprised to find how much she was enjoying herself—and how relaxed Prince Antonio was.
Perhaps now was the right time to ask him...
‘Do you have plans for tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘We can go exploring, if you like, take a drive deeper into the mountains,’ he suggested.
‘I have a better idea,’ she said. ‘When we were in the café this morning, I overheard someone talking about the village Christmas party for the children tomorrow afternoon.’
‘They hold the party every year in the town hall,’ Gina explained, ‘for all the children in the villages who attend the scuola elementary and asilo—primary school and kindergarten. I used to help out, in the years when my Chiara and Matteo were young enough to go to the party.’ Gina smiled. ‘Basically the party’s for children under the age of eleven, so there’s dancing and games and party food and, of course, Babbo Natale to give each child a small gift.’
‘Father Christmas,’ Tia said. ‘But the man who’s supposed to be doing it this year can’t do it now because he’s just broken his leg skiing.’
Antonio looked puzzled. ‘How do you know all this?’
‘I overheard two of the organisers talking in the ladies’ yesterday. They said they couldn’t find a replacement Father Christmas.’ And this was the thing. Would the Prince think of his own child-to-be and unbend enough to do something kind for the children in the village—something that wouldn’t cost him at all financially, but would mean giving up his time and doing something in person? ‘And I was wondering,’ she continued, ‘if maybe you might offer to step in and help?’
‘Me?’ He looked as shocked as if she’d just suggested that he should take off all his clothes in public to raise money for charity.
He might put his life at risk, the way her brother had, for his job; but putting his dignity at risk was clearly a very different thing. A step too far, perhaps?
But she pressed on. ‘All you’d have to do is put on a costume and a beard, maybe tie a pillow round your middle so you look plump enough to be Father Christmas, say, “Ho, ho, ho,” a lot, and give each child a present.’
* * *
Dress up as Babbo Natale.
Antonio tried to get his head round it. This just wasn’t the sort of thing his family did. And he hadn’t had much to do with children, despite being the patron of a charity for children from an armed forces background who’d been bereaved; he had no idea how they would respond to him.
Then again, in three months’ time he would have a baby of his own. He probably ought to take every opportunity he could to have some practice at being around babies and children.
Tia, he thought, would be a natural at being a mother. He could easily imagine her calming a fractious toddler in the coffee shop with a story or crayons, or soothing a baby while its tired mum sat down for two minutes with a cup of tea. And he could understand the attraction of the children’s party for her, given that she’d had to put her dreams of being a primary school teacher to one side.
She wanted him to do this.
And it would be another step forward in his campaign to prove to her that they’d be good together and he would learn to be a good husband and father.
He took a deep breath. ‘All right. I’ll do it. Gina, given that you know about the party, do you know who’s organising it?’
‘Actually, I have the answer to that one,’ Tia said. ‘Excuse me for being rude and using tech at the table.’ She grabbed her phone and pulled up a photograph. ‘There was a poster in the café. The organiser’s number is here.’
‘Signora Capelli.’ Although most of the villagers would speak English for the tourists, the children’s Christmas party was for the locals, so the conversation had probably been in Italian. ‘Do you speak much Italian, Tia?’ he asked, curious.
She nodded. ‘Giovanni and Vittoria—my bosses at the café—are originally from Naples. So over the years I’ve gradually learned from them.’
So even though she hadn’t been able to travel, she’d at least had the pleasure of being able to learn another language.
He looked at her, then switched to Italian. ‘If I play Father Christmas, will it make you happy?’
She paused for a bit, as if working out the correct phrases. ‘Sì. Molto felice,’ she said.
He grinned. ‘Then for you,’ he said, switching back to English, ‘I will do it. Giacomo, if I call and arrange it, would you...?’
‘Sort out the security aspect? Of course,’ his security officer said with a smile. ‘Actually, sir, I think you would make a very good Babbo Natale.’
Antonio wasn’t so sure, but he’d do it. ‘Excuse me. As you said, Tia, tech at the table is rude, but let me make that call.’
A few minutes later, it was all arranged.
‘They’re delighted that I can help,’ Antonio said. ‘But I told them that you were the one who persuaded me to do it, so they’d like to invite you to come to the party as well.’
‘I’d love to,’ she said, and the sheer pleasure in her eyes made Antonio feel something odd in the region of his heart—as if something inside was cracking.
Once they’d eaten the fresh fruit and little Christmas fritters Antonio had prepared during the afternoon, he ushered everyone through to the sitting room.
‘But surely we need to clear up first?’ Tia asked.
‘No. I’ll sort it out later. Tonight is for having fun,’ he said. ‘Let’s go through to the sitting room.’
They pla
yed a few rounds of charades, half in English and half in Italian. And then Antonio brought out a box that he’d had delivered earlier that day, containing a copy of the musical game with kazoos that Tia had told him about enjoying so much.
Tears glittered in her eyes as he placed the box on the table.
He went to stand next to her. ‘I ordered it online for delivery today. Did I do the wrong thing?’ he asked softly, taking her hand. ‘Because we don’t have to play the game if you’d rather not. I apologise for upsetting you. That wasn’t my intention.’
‘No, it’s a really kind thought.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I have such lovely memories of playing this with Mum and Dad and Nathan. And now I’m going to have lovely memories of playing with you.’
He didn’t want this to be just a memory. He wanted it to be the start of a whole new tradition. But he didn’t know how to tell her. Instead, awkwardly, he squeezed her hand.
Several times during the game, Tia caught his eye and his heart felt as if it had done a backflip. And several times he could see the baby kicking. It blew him away. He’d never expected to feel anything like this, and he really wasn’t sure how to deal with it. All he could do was be the polite, perfect host, the way he’d been brought up to be. And he wished he could let himself go as easily as Tia, Gina, Giacomo and Enrico seemed to be able to do. But nobody in his family ever let go like that. He’d just have to try harder.
Or maybe that was the point: this should be effortless, and he was trying too hard. And the crack he’d felt inside him earlier seemed to freeze up again.
* * *
‘Time to make some tea,’ Tia said, holding her sides. ‘I need a break from laughing.’
‘I’ll help you,’ Gina said. She followed Tia into the kitchen and stacked the dishwasher while Tia filled the kettle and put cups and a teapot on a tray. She winked at the younger woman. ‘I know the Prince said he’d clear up tomorrow, but men never stack the dishwasher properly.’
‘That’s what Vittoria says about Giovanni at work,’ Tia said with a smile. Gina reminded her very much of her boss, making her feel completely relaxed and at home.
‘I’ve known Prince Antonio for many years, since he was tiny and his family first came here to this house,’ Gina said. ‘But this is the first time I’ve seen him look this relaxed, as an adult. It’s not my place to ask questions, but...?’ She looked pointedly at Tia’s bump.
Tia knew the older woman had Antonio’s best interests at heart. ‘Yes, the baby is his.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘But it’s complicated.’
‘Antonio needs love in his life,’ Gina said softly. ‘King Vincenzo was always very formal with both the boys. Queen Maria was a bit less so, but there was still always a little reserve and they never really had a proper childhood, even here. I think you and the baby might be good for Prince Antonio.’ She flapped a hand. ‘But I’m speaking out of turn.’
‘Not at all,’ Tia reassured her. ‘And I won’t say a word of what you said to the Prince.’
It hadn’t occurred to her before that maybe the Prince didn’t have everything in his life—that maybe her love and the baby would be a gift to him. But, the more she thought about it, the more she realised that he really was the ‘poor little rich boy’ and their positions were completely reversed. Although she was financially and socially much poorer than him, when it came to love and family she was so much richer.
But would she and the baby be enough for him?
Because, even though she felt she’d grown so much closer to Antonio today—that she was more than halfway to falling in love with the man behind the royal mask—she didn’t think he felt the same about her. Antonio was all about duty, and she wasn’t sure that she could live a life without love. If he married her purely because he thought it was the right thing to do, could he grow to love her and the baby? And did she really want to live in a world where everything they did or said was put under the microscope of public opinion?
She forced the thought away and took the tray of tea through, smiling at Antonio, Giacomo and Enrico. But her busy day started to catch up with her, and she found herself yawning.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean to be rude.’
‘Being pregnant is tiring, child,’ Gina said. ‘Go to bed. We understand.’
‘Thank you. And thank you all for such a lovely evening. It really felt like a proper Christmas,’ she said.
But by the time she climbed into bed, she was wide awake and worrying again.
Antonio had been very quiet after dinner. Was he having second thoughts about this? Could he grow to love her? Should she marry him, give the baby his protection? Or would she be better off going back to London and bringing up their baby in love and relative obscurity?
CHAPTER FIVE
ANTONIO HAD ALMOST finished clearing up in the kitchen when his phone pinged.
Who would message him this late at night? It must be something important, he thought, and picked up his phone to see a message from Luca.
I thought you should know about this before it hits the media tomorrow.
There was an attachment to the message: a PDF of a press release.
Antonio read it and blew out a breath. According to the press release, the DNA test proved beyond all doubt that Gabriella was the oldest child of King Vincenzo, and the palace would like to announce that she would accede to the throne rather than Luca. Luca would remain in his role as the Crown Prince and would support his older sister through the beginning of her reign.
As soon as this news reached the media, Antonio realised, it would be splashed over the front pages of the newspapers. And he would be expected back at the palace as soon as possible. Which meant time was running out for his impromptu getaway with Tia.
His duty meant that he ought to fly back first thing in the morning. Or even tonight.
But he’d promised to play Babbo Natale at the village children’s Christmas party.
Although he knew the organisers would understand him having to duck out at the last minute, given the news, it would mean leaving them in a mess. And Antonio Valenti was a man who kept his promises. He didn’t want to disappoint the children or the villagers—and he really didn’t want to disappoint Tia.
But if he didn’t go back to the palace first thing tomorrow, he would disappoint his family.
Whatever he did, he was going to let someone down.
Thinking about it logically, he knew that his brother, his mother and Gabriella had each other and all the resources of the palace to support them. Tia had nobody; although she would have emotional support from her mother, Grace Phillips wasn’t well enough to deal with the inevitable media intrusion. The stress might even bring on a relapse of her medical condition.
Well, he wasn’t going to abandon Tia for a third time.
He typed a message into his phone.
Thanks for update. Will be back in a couple of days. Things I need to do here first.
He was surprised when a message came back almost immediately.
Miles told me who Tia was, but he refused to tell me anything else. Though someone in the office told me she looks very pregnant. Assume congratulations are in order?
Oh. With Tia being so petite, her bump really showed. Of course people would gossip in the palace, even if Miles told them not to, about the pregnant woman who’d come to see the Prince, and Antonio’s subsequent disappearance. He’d be naive to think otherwise.
Does Mamma know?
I haven’t said anything. I think this needs to come from you.
Of course it did. He already knew that.
Hopefully the media will concentrate on events here. Wrap things up and come back as soon as you can.
Thanks. I will.
Antonio was pretty sure that Luca would leave it at that, but then his phone pinged again.
So do you have a v
iew of snow?
Of course his brother would guess where he’d gone. Antonio had been fooling himself to think otherwise. Picco Innevato was where Antonio always went when he needed some space after a difficult mission.
Yes.
Christmassy. That’s nice.
Antonio nearly typed back, Who are you and what have you done with my older brother? But, actually, it was nice to feel that for once his older brother wasn’t as unbending as their father.
Yes, it is. I put a tree up in the house.
Though he wasn’t entirely sure that Luca would understand about him playing Babbo Natale at the children’s Christmas party. Not when a major announcement was being made and he really ought to be back at the palace, supporting his family.
I’ll message you when I’m on my way back.
Good luck. I hope it works out with Tia. Finding someone who loves you—that’s special.
And then the penny finally dropped.
Luca had changed. When he’d come back from meeting Gabriella at Crystal Lake, he’d been different. And Antonio was pretty sure that it had a lot to do with Imogen Albright, the woman he’d met out there and become engaged to.
His brother was in love; and that love had melted his habitual reserve.
Antonio couldn’t quite get his head round the fact that his elder brother was actually wishing him luck in love.
Then again, he knew he needed luck. If he couldn’t persuade Tia to love him, he needed at the very least a good working relationship with the mother of his baby—a child who was definitely going to be fourth in line to the throne.
Me, too, he typed, though this time he didn’t send the message.
* * *
The next morning, Antonio checked the main news sites on his phone. They were full of the shock announcement about Gabriella, the long-lost Princess of Casavalle who was about to become the new Queen. And quite a few of them seemed to have noticed that Prince Antonio wasn’t at the palace and were asking exactly where he was.