‘Lissa was some lady?’
‘We were second cousins and we grew up together,’ he told her, his voice softening. ‘We were the best of friends.’
He received a probing look as Penny-Rose thought this through. ‘So… You’re thirty-two now, and you didn’t get engaged until three years ago. They say you’d only just become engaged when she was killed. And you and Lissa were friends for years.’ She paused and thought it through some more. ‘Then after years of friendship, passion suddenly overtook you so you decided to marry?’
He frowned at that, and fingered his wineglass, sending shards of candlelight glistening through the Burgundy. ‘Aged almost thirty, we realised how good friendship could be.’
‘So you weren’t in love with Lissa either?’
His face darkened. ‘I loved Lissa.’ And from the way he’d said it, she was sure it was the truth. But maybe he hadn’t loved her as a man could love a woman. Or…as she’d always hoped a man could love a woman.
For heaven’s sake… What would she know? she thought suddenly. Maybe what she was thinking of was a romantic dream. It was a dream she’d always had at the back of her mind, but still just a dream for all that.
She could hardly probe any further down that road, but there was still something not quite right. She sipped her wine and wrinkled her freckled nose. ‘And Belle?’ she pressed. ‘She’s a friend, too?’
‘Not like Lissa was, but…’ Alastair hesitated, but this was a major commitment he was asking of this woman, and it was important for him to be honest. He knew that. If she agreed, she had to know exactly what she was letting herself in for. ‘Belle’s an interior decorator-a partner with my Paris architectural firm. She knows what I expect in a woman, she entertains my clients magnificently and she doesn’t interfere with my need for privacy.’
‘Your need for privacy! That’s a wonderful basis for a marriage-I don’t think.’ Her words were out before she could hide the revulsion in her voice, and he heard it. His brows snapped down in anger.
‘Privacy and mutual support is all either Belle or I need.’
‘I…I understand.’ Penny-Rose did, too, and the thought made a shudder run down her spine. He saw, and his frown deepened even further.
‘You’re cold?’
‘How could I be cold?’ It was the most beautiful spring evening. But his concern was warming, she thought. Nice.
‘So let me get this right,’ she continued. ‘You want me to play the fairy-tale princess for a year, then at the end of it to calmly apply for a divorce, hitch up my socks and walk out of here. Leaving you to Belle.’
‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that but, yes. That sums it up.’
‘And Belle?’ Penny-Rose toyed with her wineglass. ‘How does she feel about it? If it were me,’ she said carefully, ‘I wouldn’t be happy about seeing my fiance marry someone else first. In fact,’ she added honestly, ‘it’d be pistols at dawn if anyone made the attempt.’
He smiled at the image. ‘That’s hardly sensible. And Belle’s sensible. I told you. She understands that the needs of the country have to come first.’
‘I see.’ Or she saw enough to make her shiver again.
But she needed to concentrate on her own role. Not Belle’s future one. ‘Is this really going to be OK?’ she asked. ‘Will the lawyers be happy with a twelve-month marriage?’
‘The inheritance doesn’t say how long I have to stay married. Legal opinion is that if the marriage doesn’t last a year then annulment rather than divorce could be considered and it could risk the inheritance. But if it lasts a year-’
‘Then you and Belle can be safe as Prince and Princess and live happily ever after.’ She nodded wisely-but there was something else niggling her. Something else that needed asking, and there was no easy way to ask it.
‘Um…how do you know I’m unimpeachably virtuous?’ she demanded.
He looked across at her, startled, and then he grinned. ‘The investigators say you’ve never had a boyfriend. According to my mother, you haven’t had time.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘It does make things easier,’ he told her. ‘And your maturity helps. If I marry a woman who’s not mature then I risk her falling…’
‘Falling for you?’
‘There’s not much chance of that happening,’ he said bluntly. ‘Not with the way I feel about marriage. But falling for the trappings of the position.’
‘What makes you think I won’t?’
‘You’re a pragmatist,’ he replied. ‘My mother says so, and I’m starting to accept that she’s right. You do what you need to do to survive.’ He grinned again. ‘Besides, you’re Australian. If the worst comes to the worst, after twelve months I can kick you out of the country. But I don’t think I’ll need to do that. You’ll be wanting to get back to your sisters and brother. And you’ll have your fee.’
Now they were getting down to business. ‘My fee,’ she said faintly.
The thought suddenly seemed repugnant. But… According to Alastair and his mother, she was a pragmatist. So she’d just better school her features into interest and behave like one. A virtuous pragmatist.
It sounded like something to take for constipation. Or… She grinned. Maybe it sounded more like someone who played very boring music!
Get a grip, she told herself. Was it the champagne that was going to her head? ‘What…what exactly were you thinking of as a fee?’ she asked unsteadily, and he nodded as if he’d expected the question.
He was certainly prepared-and then some! ‘My accountant suggests an allowance of ten thousand English pounds per week, over and above expenses, for the entire time we’re married, and a further one million pounds settlement at the time of the divorce.’
She’d raised her wineglass to her lips, she’d taken a sip-but the wine didn’t go down. She choked and choked again, and finally Alastair came around to thump her shoulders.
The feel of his hand on the bare skin of her back did nothing at all to help her composure. By the time she’d finished coughing she was bright pink and thoroughly flustered.
‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped at last. ‘I thought you said…a million pounds!’
‘I did. Plus the rest.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’ She was almost angry.
‘No. I’m rich already. I might not have enough to buy the estate at the values tourists would put on it, but if I inherit, I’ll have more money than I know what to do with. My lawyers say that if I’m not generous, I could face a lawsuit later. I don’t want that. And my mother says you deserve this windfall, and I’m starting to believe that she’s right.’
‘And…’ She still couldn’t take it in. ‘Belle agrees to it?’
‘Belle’s the woman I want with me long term,’ he said slowly. ‘After losing Lissa, I don’t want anyone or anything making emotional demands. Belle’s a wonderful partner and she understands-’
‘She understands what little you want of her.’ Penny-Rose nodded, though the thought of the marriage he was contemplating made her feel dreadful. ‘And she understands me?’
‘She sees you as a necessary evil.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘Say nothing of it.’ He smiled, his dangerous, coaxing smile that had her half-inclined to agree just so she could see it once more. He was still standing, looking down at her, and his very closeness was unnerving.
The whole situation was unnerving.
And there were things she didn’t understand. Lots of things.
‘I’d imagine, as a prince, yours would be a very public wedding,’ she said slowly.
‘Yes. It’ll need to be.’
‘Then how will your people take it?’ she went on, thinking it through as she spoke, ‘when I disappear after twelve months?’
‘My people are pragmatists,’ he said. ‘Like yourself. There’s discontent now because the succession is at risk. Even though my engagement to Belle hasn’t been official, the gossip columnists have voiced rumours and disapprove. They know about the inheritance, and they want the principality to continue. Our marriage will dispel that worry.’
