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It took persuasion but finally Tomaso and Daisy left. It would be hours before Angelo got back. Kelda darted upstairs and dug out the worn and faded stationery box in which she kept her father’s letters. Anguish had returned, only now it was strengthened by fear.
What chance did their marriage have now? Angelo had unwittingly married the bank-robber’s daughter. A lot of people were going to find that hilariously funny. And what about the rumour that he was soon to be offered the position of chief executive in the Rossetti Industrial Bank? Wasn’t there a possibility that that too could be affected by his unfortunate marriage?
With scorching tears in her eyes, Kelda went in search of her suitcases. An hour later, she had packed. She was totally choked up by then. Her swollen eyes fell on the box of her father’s letters and with sudden explosive bitterness, she sped downstairs to ask Mrs Moss for matches. Crouching down in front of the fireplace in her bedroom, she shook out the first letter, tears streaming down her face. The paper was worn thin by repeated readings, the ink faded.
She struck the first match and a split-second later there was a sudden step behind her and a hand snatched the match from her before she could ignite the letters piled in the grate. Still on her knees, she spun. ‘What the heck do you...Angelo!’ she gasped. ‘But...but you’re not due back until—’
‘I cancelled my meetings and flew back immediately.’
Wordlessly she stared up at him. He reached down and raised her up but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was drowning in angry humiliation. He already knew. Someone had told him. Why else would he arrive back early?
‘Why were you about to burn your father’s letters?’
‘That’s a very s-stupid question,’ Kelda stammered.
‘Once they’re gone, they’re gone, and those letters are all that you have of him,’ Angelo pointed out almost gently.
The confrontation was not going in any expected direction. Her brow furrowed. ‘Those letters are full of nothing but lies!’
‘Does that really matter so much?’ Angelo smoothed a straying curl from her damp temples. ‘Your father loved you. He must have spent hours writing them and they made you happy when you we
re a child. Those letters made you feel secure and loved—’
‘But they were lies!’ Unable to comprehend why he was behaving this way, Kelda almost screamed at him and attempted to pull free.
‘And don’t you think your mother had something to do with that? Whose idea do you think it was that he should pretend to be working abroad rather than admit the truth?’
Kelda’s breath escaped shakily.
‘It was probably your mother’s, and her motives were very much based on protecting you. She wanted you to have a father you could admire, a father you could talk about freely with your friends...it was an utterly insane charade but it kept you happy. You were safe in Liverpool. But you would have found out the truth if he had lived,’ Angelo murmured intently, holding her fast by her shoulders. ‘Sooner or later, you might have discovered that there is no oil in Jordan...’
‘No oil?’ she echoed dazedly.
‘No oil. He couldn’t have been working on an oil-field there.’
She frowned up at him. ‘In Italy,’ she whispered. ‘You knew! But you said nothing...’
Lustrous dark eyes arrowed over her distressed face. ‘I was curious to find out exactly how much you did know. You see, cara...I’ve known for almost ten years—’
‘But you couldn’t have—’ she broke in, her eyes clinging to his.
‘When my father married Daisy, I already knew they had been having a very discreet affair. The sudden marriage shook me as much as you,’ he confided wryly. ‘I ran a security check on your mother and the report was very thorough. I’m afraid to say that I didn’t interpret the facts with much generosity. A late husband, who had been a regular prison inmate, two children stashed conveniently in another city. Haven’t you ever wondered why I misjudged your mother so badly then?’
Kelda was shaken. Angelo had always known. Angelo had known from the beginning.
‘I was only twenty-two and rather arrogant. I couldn’t understand why my father had married her...’
She was remembering Angelo’s cold antagonism towards her mother and suddenly she could understand why he had been so prejudiced from the outset.
‘I had to become a little more mature before I could accept that the sinner was not your mother,’ Angelo imparted quietly. ‘And that, when you love somebody, you accept everything about that person, not just the facets that you like.’
‘You knew...’ She was still fumbling with that discovery. ‘And yet you never threw it at me...not even when I accused your father of having a mistress and you probably knew then that the other woman was in fact my own mother—’
‘Yes,’ he sighed.
Why was he being kind and understanding? Kelda trembled, her emotions still raw and bleeding from her traumatic morning. ‘Well, why didn’t you throw it in my face?’
‘When you were a child, I wouldn’t have hurt you, and when you were almost an adult I still wouldn’t have hurt you.’ Angelo brushed a caressing hand gently over her wobbling lower lip. ‘And when you became an adult I found that I couldn’t hurt you.’
