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Uncle Alfred still had that fond smile on his face. “She is rather awful,” he acknowledged. “Alec’s cable said he found you in a village near Pistoia. The one your parents visited.”
His congenial tone rendered her momentarily speechless. Was he not going to reprimand her at all? “Yes. I went there directly from Florence.”
“I should have known.”
Lottie bowed her head. “Why did you send him, Uncle?” she asked softly. “It could have been anyone else.”
Uncle Alfred was quiet for so long, Lottie didn’t think he would answer. “I didn’t think you would agree to go with anyone else,” he finally said. “And I’m not sure I trusted anyone else with you, either.” The words, and what they truly meant, stung. “No, it had to be him.”
Lottie’s eyes began to prickle, but she met his gaze anyway. “I wish it hadn’t,” she whispered.
He gave her a sympathetic look she couldn’t bear. Uncle Alfred, still able to see straight into her very soul. Even now. “He stayed behind in Venice?”
Lottie nodded. “We—we did not part on good terms.”
“That is probably for the best,” he sighed. Another long moment passed as a shadow clouded Uncle Alfred’s face. Lottie knew he wasn’t supposed to exert himself, but she was determined to have answers.
“I know about his parents,” she began. “That his mother was married to another man. A count.”
He immediately turned to her with a wariness she had never seen before. “Oh?”
She leveled her gaze. Of course he would not make this easy. “Did she really give up Alec?”
“She had no choice,” he muttered.
Lottie furrowed her brow, but before she could prod further, Uncle Alfred continued: “Her husband was the worst sort of scoundrel. Nearly twenty years older. Involved in all sorts of political intrigues. Had more mistresses than anyone could count. But he was a charming old devil, and their marriage forged an alliance between two very old families. They fought often, though. Maria was always leaving and coming back. Until she met Edward. The count was actually glad at the time, as he had a new mistress of his own.” His voice grew stronger as he spoke, and his words came out faster, but he still kept his eyes fixed elsewhere, as if channeling the spirit of decades past. “Edward kept her occupied. Happy. He didn’t even mind about the child, as long as they didn’t parade him about too much.”
“How—how do you know all this?”
He faced her. “Because I was there. In Venice.”
There was no need to explain why.
Lottie’s stomach turned. “But, if the count didn’t care…”
“She began to inform on her husband.”
Lottie swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. Uncle Alfred and his wretched business once again. A family hideously torn apart, the parents dead, and their son wrecked for life, all for what?
“We almost had him, too,” he groused, as ifthatwere the real tragedy. “So many damned times.” Uncle Alfred’s left hand clenched the bedsheet. “But the bastard always managed to slip away. Then, somehow, he found out about his wife and threatened to have Edward thrown in jail unless she came back to him permanently. So she made a bargain. Her life for his. Not that it mattered in the end,” he added bitterly. “When Edward was with her, he could keep the darkness at bay, but once she was gone he succumbed to it completely.”
“Did you not tell him the truth?”
He looked scandalized. “That would have puteverythingat risk. No,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I couldn’t do that. Edward should have been stronger. Like his wife.”
Lottie took a few deep breaths until she could speak without shouting. “What happened to Alec after his death?”
“The count drew the line at allowing his wife’s bastard son to live under his roof. None of Edward’s family knew who she really was. They thought the idea of Edward marrying a common Italian was a disgrace; theyneverwould have taken him in if they’d known the truth. So he was shuttled around to some of Maria’s distant relatives for a while. Then the contessa finally wrote, begging that I watch over him.” He paused, lost in his memories. “She must have been quite desperate to send him to me. But I suppose I owed her that.” He trailed off.
Lottie managed to hold back her vitriol, for there was still more she needed to know. “But why—why did you never tell him the truth?”
“She thought it would be harder if he knew, especially while she was still alive. And I agreed. Neither of us expected the count to outlive her.”
A pit formed in her stomach. “You forget, Uncle, that when you finally told Alec the truth, you didn’t tell him everything. He thinks she did notlovehim. That she chose to leave. It’s been torturing him all these years.”
Uncle Alfred shook his head. His expression turned foggy. “No. I—I told him it wasn’t her choice.” But he didn’t sound at all sure.
“No, you didn’t,” she protested. “You only told him enough to make himleave. To make him think that he could never have me.”
