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She sipped her wine nervously. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t know that was something I do.’
He nodded curtly. ‘You do. And I would think you’ve had enough experience with people and their selfish proclivities to adopt a more cautious attitude.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’
He lifted one dark, thick brow. ‘I hope you do not change,’ he said quietly. ‘Your optimism is refreshing.’
‘But misplaced?’ she suggested.
‘Yes—in this instance. My father was a very wealthy man. He could have bought my mother an apartment, given her an allowance and ensured I went to excellent schools. It would have been barely small change to him.’
‘Surely he did something to help?’
His laugh was a dark sound. ‘He offered to pay for the termination.’
Tilly’s gasp was loud. There was one other couple in their corner of the terrace and they turned towards them, apparently curious at what was going on.
With an effort at discretion, she said more quietly, ‘Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?’
Though she didn’t want to suggest it of the woman he obviously viewed as a saint, it wasn’t inconceivable that his mother had lied at some stage, to sour Rio against the father he’d never met.
As if he’d read her mind, he said, ‘My mother never told me. At least, she didn’t mean to. But there were times when her pain was so severe that her doctors put her on huge quantities of morphine. It made her...communicative.’
Tilly grimaced. ‘That’s rough on your mother. To have kept a brave face through so much adversity, raising you without badmouthing your father, no matter how sorely she was tempted, only to find the confession escaping without her control. How invasive.’
His eyes showed surprise at her perception. ‘That is exactly how I feel. I would never have confronted her with what she’d said. Seeing her experience guilt for telling me would have been mortifying. Worse, if she’d tried to apologise. In any event, I was glad to have answers. I had always wondered about him. I was relieved to discover that I could hate him. That I was right to feel that. It had been in me for a long time, but we are taught not to hate our parents, no? I felt vindicated.’
She nodded, but knew there was nothing she could say to relieve his pain. It must be a pain akin to death.
‘Is he still alive?’
‘No.’
She reached for her wine and lifted it towards her lips without drinking. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
A muscle jerked in his square jaw. ‘You are the only person I have ever spoken to about this. It is enough that you have listened.’
Was it wrong to feel such delight in a moment of sadness? Tilly did. Her heart soared. He had confided in her—and confided something that he had never shared with another soul.
‘I imagine your mother would be very proud of you.’ To Tilly’s mortification, she found herself choked by the words.
He shrugged. ‘She always was.’
His eyes met hers, and she couldn’t have looked away for a million pounds. She was trapped in his gaze and there was nowhere else she wanted to be.
‘Even my smallest feats attracted an improbable amount of praise.’ He was amused—or perhaps aiming to lighten the tone.
‘My mother is like that,’ Tilly said, thinking of Belinda Morgan with an indulgent smile. ‘If I won a spelling competition at school it was like an Olympic Gold to her.’
His expression was watchful. Almost calculating. Tilly didn’t realise why at first, but a moment later it dawned on her. Cressida’s mother was nothing like Belinda, and she had certainly never been proud of her daughter.
‘I see.’
Tilly panicked for a moment, wondering if he really did. She needed to regroup urgently. She needed to speak to Cressida.
‘Would you excuse me a moment?’
He nodded and she stood, scooping up her bag as she made her way across the terrace and back into the restaurant. She pushed inside the restroom and lifted her phone out of her bag, dialled Cressida’s number.
