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‘No ideas, Lily?’
‘The tearoom’s shut,’ she said flippantly.
‘I don’t give a damn about the tearoom. I’ve come to see you.’
She sucked in another breath. Hadn’t they said everything there was to say? Weren’t his team of fancy lawy
ers drawing up the wretched divorce papers even now? ‘Why?’
Ciro’s eyes narrowed. Her stark question was completely at odds with her delicate appearance and he paused as he studied a face made elfin by her new feathered hairstyle—flinching to think it had been his cruelty which had made her chop off her glorious hair. He’d had a statement planned—whole reams of things he’d intended to say when he saw her. But now all words failed him—except perhaps for the only ones which mattered.
‘I’ve come to say sorry.’
Lily felt dizzy, wondering if she’d imagined those words, but the unusually sombre expression on Ciro’s face told her she hadn’t. Dimly, she registered that there was still an unusual silence outside the The Duchess of Cambridge and how much the regulars would be loving this. She pulled herself together. ‘We can’t have this conversation here.’
‘Then you’d better come downstairs and let me in.’
Lily’s heart raced even though she felt a mild flare of irritation. So he’d lost none of his customary arrogance! But she felt weak as she went downstairs and weaker still when she opened the door and he looked at her with such longing and regret in his dark eyes that her heart turned over. Seeing him this close again made her realise how much she had missed him—in every way it was possible to miss a man. Her instinct was to hurl herself into those strong arms and let him hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay, but she’d learnt by now that her instincts were often dangerous.
So she stepped aside to let him in, aware of his raw, tangy scent as he passed and realising that the small hallway was much too claustrophobic for any kind of conversation. That his compelling proximity might have her doing things she would later regret. And that she needed to put some real space between them. ‘You’d better come upstairs.’
Ciro followed her up the narrow stairway, trying not to be mesmerised by the sway of her bottom and the swish of her cotton dress as she walked. The pulse at his temple was hammering and the inside of his mouth felt like sand. Had he thought that the apology he’d uttered downstairs would be enough and that she would forgive him instantly? Maybe he had. He was not a man known for saying sorry and perhaps he had overestimated its effect on people.
He walked into the sitting room and saw that she had been working hard. New, flower-sprigged curtains hung at the windows and she had made some sort of throw which partially disguised the sofa bed. Over the fireplace hung a large and brightly coloured painting whose style he recognised instantly.
‘Jonny’s?’ he asked.
It wasn’t what she had been expecting him to say and she turned to him with a slightly puzzled look on her face. ‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Because he sent me a postcard. He has a very recognisable technique.’
‘Have you come up here to discuss Jonny’s artistic merits?’
‘Actually, they do have some relevance on what I’m about to say.’
Lily’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now I’m intrigued.’
‘You sold your mother’s pearls to pay him through art school, didn’t you, Lily?’
Her eyes widened. ‘And if I did?’
‘Yet you turned down what was rightfully yours.’ He lowered his voice as he studied her closely. ‘A divorce settlement which meant you could have kept the necklace which meant so much to you.’
She shook her head and in that moment she could have pummelled her fists against him in frustration. ‘You just don’t get it, do you, Ciro? All your life you’ve seen things in terms of credit and debit. Everything for you is quantifiable. Everything has to have a price!’
‘But that’s where you’re wrong, Lily,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I do get it. I just wonder why it took me so long. You didn’t accept the settlement because you didn’t want to be beholden to me in any way.’
‘Oh, bravo,’ she applauded softly.
‘But it’s more than that. I suddenly realised that you don’t care about things as much as you care about people. That the most precious piece of jewellery in the world—even if it did have immense sentimental value—would mean nothing to you if it meant that your brother’s dreams were thwarted. So you sold the pearls to put Jonny through art school.’
Lily walked over to the window, but stood with her back to the view. ‘How did you find out?’
‘That postcard he sent was to thank me for funding his place. I realised then what you must have done.’
‘Okay, so now you know. But none of what you’ve told me tells me why you’re here, Ciro.’
Had he thought that might be enough? That his opening words of apology accompanied by an explanation might be sufficient for her to forgive him? Yes, he had. But he could see now that he had been wrong. That her blue gaze was very steady. He had hurt her badly, he realised—and she was scared he was going to hurt her again.
