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And then they would sip their thimble of champagne and pretend it had gone to their head, even as they kept all their wits about them, for this was their chance to get ahead, get seen, get a step up on the A-list ladder.
Oh, yes, Rafe knew their game well, because over and over he had allowed them to play it. And even as he told them that this could go nowhere, they countered with how much they liked him. No, no, they insisted, theyreallyliked him. Forhimself. It had nothing to do with him being royal—they just liked himincrediblymuch...
He was bored with their fawning, and he knew that he was arrogant and not that nice—he knew there was nothing in him to like aside from his title.
He looked over to Antonietta, who gave an appreciative eye-roll that said her pasta was truly divine.
It was refreshing to sit in silence. Towantto know more about someone else. And so it was Rafe who spoke. ‘What made you change your mind?’
‘I never got to make up my mind,’ Antonietta said. ‘He was the golden boy of the village.’
‘Was?’
‘He has married and moved away now, but at the time he was the star of Silibri—funny, charming, a hard worker. Everybody loves Sylvester. My father thought he was choosing well...’
‘But?’
Antonietta did not know how to answer that. She did not know how to tell Rafe that Sylvester’s kisses had left her cold, and that his hands had felt too rough. And that she’d had a sense of fear that had pitched in her stomach whenever she was alone with the man who had been chosen for her.
It wasn’t loyalty to Sylvester that halted her, and nor was it Antonietta’s propensity never to gossip. Instead it was a new layer of confusion that Rafe had inadvertently added to the mix—for she wantedhishand to close again around hers.
They were mid-meal, of course, but his earlier touch had bemused Antonietta, for not only had she liked it, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. And touch had never come naturally to her.
‘Have you seen him since?’ Rafe asked when she refused to elaborate on what it was about Sylvester that had caused her to change her mind.
‘No. When I got to Paris I wrote and apologised. He never responded and I don’t blame him for that.’
‘What about your parents?’
‘They have had nothing to do with me since. I understand, though. I didn’t just shame them. I embarrassed the whole family on both sides...’
‘That’s surely to be expected when the bride and groom are related?’
‘Don’t!’ She gave a shocked laugh, but then it faded. ‘I’m coming to realise that they’re never going to forgive me.’
‘The question is, can you forgivethem?’
‘Forgivethem?’
‘Antonietta, I’m sure you had your reasons for running away.’
She didn’t answer with words. Instead it was Antonietta’s skin that spoke, as a blush spread across her chest and cheeks.
‘Quite sure,’ Rafe said.
‘They weren’t to know,’ she responded, in hot defence of her parents, but Rafe remained unmoved.
‘I have known you for only a few days,’ he said. ‘And Iknowthat you had your reasons. I don’t know what they were, but I am certain they exist.’
Antonietta swallowed and then reached for her wine, took a gulp and swallowed again.
‘You can tell me,’ he offered.
‘Why would I?’ Antonietta retorted. ‘You leave tomorrow.’
‘That makes me the perfect sounding board,’ said Rafe, refusing to match her sudden anger. ‘You never have to see me again.’
It was, she silently conceded, oddly appealing.
