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The ambassador leaned across; he was smiling. ‘Thank you.’
Dante lifted his brows.
‘These formal events are a trial for Lara—she finds them something of an ordeal… The Princess has drawn her out.’
Dante was aware of something like proprietorial pride breaking loose inside him as he nodded, and found himself wondering how differently things might have worked out if his family had decided to consider Beatrice’s natural warmth and genuine interest in people a positive rather than a handicap.
And you threw that warmth away.So, what does that make you?
Maybe it was true that you didn’t value what you had until it was no longer there, but now she was there, and he was determined that she would stay. She was the mother of his child; her place was with him. It was an explanation that he could live with. It meant he didn’t have to delve too deeply into his tightly boxed emotions.
‘Listen to them.’ The ambassador’s voice cut into Dante’s bitter reflections.
Dante was, as were several other people who had tuned into the animated conversation between the two attractive women.
‘So you’re adopted?’
‘No, my sister was adopted. My mum and dad had given up on getting pregnant by that point. They adopted Maya as a newborn, then a couple of months later Mum discovered that I was not a grumbling appendix.’
Lara Faure laughed and clapped her hands.
‘So, you are almost twins.’
‘That’s what we say, except definitely not identical. Maya is dark and petite and I’m…’ her brows hit her blonde hairline ‘…not! The irony is that Mum is dark and petite. I take after our dad, who was tall and blond, before he went bald, so I hope I haven’t inherited that from him.’ Her hand went to her head, where her frequently disobedient hair appeared to be in place, before dropping. Her fingers curled around the stem of her water glass as she swirled the contents, giving the impression she was breathing in the scent of wine as she lifted it to her lips.
‘Your hair is natural!’ the Frenchwoman exclaimed, her envious glance on Beatrice’s glossy head.
‘I had some blue streaks when I was at school.’ The admission freed a grin. ‘And was a redhead for about five minutes. That’s about the limit of my rebellion, but these days, yes, this is au naturelle.’
‘How lucky. Mine costs me a fortune and far too many hours to maintain. I’ve forgotten what colour I actually was.’ The woman patted her elegant head and gave a self-deprecating shrug. ‘Your sister is the brunette, you said?’
Beatrice nodded.
‘I always wanted a sister. I was an only child. We hope one day we will be able to give Alain a brother or sister…’
‘Maya and I are best friends and sisters,’ Beatrice said, her voice warm with affection as she thought of her sister. ‘We squabble, but I know…’ She paused, becoming belatedly aware that the table had grown silent and that everyone was listening to every word she said. Well, too late to stop now, even though she knew she’d strayed onto a dangerous subject area. ‘I know that she is always there for me.’ She put down her glass and kept her eyes steadily on the woman beside her and imagined the thought bubbles of disapproval above the collective regal heads.
‘And I’m sure you have always been there for her. You know, I have a few friends coming for brunch next week, you might know some? We have started up a book club, and on the side we have some pet projects at the moment. You might know that I am…was a violinist before the arthritis…?’
She briefly extended a hand displaying swollen knuckles while in a sentence she dismissed an unfair roll of the dice that had robbed her of a short but glittering career, and the world of someone considered one of the greats in the music industry.
Her bravery was humbling, and Beatrice knew this was someone she would like to know.
‘They have a great system in place here for music in schools—an innovation of your husband, according to my sources?’
Beatrice said nothing, aware that the other woman’s sources were a lot better than her own.
‘But the younger appreciation of music starts, the better, so we are hoping to raise some money for instruments to introduce music lessons into the nurseries in a fun way.’
‘That sounds great,’ Beatrice began, her smile deepening as she realised that she’d made a friend.
‘Though I should warn you, you might be bored. Two others of our group are new parents too and another is pregnant, so you might get a bit tired of all the baby talk.’
Beatrice could not control the guilty colour she felt rising up her neck, even though she knew logically that nobody was about to suspect the truth. As far as anyone else was concerned they had been estranged for the last eight months and, while there might be a lot of speculation as to why she was back, a baby was not going to be on their list of possibilities.
As she continued to struggle to frame a response, aware that Lara was beginning to look puzzled by her silence, it was Dante who came to her rescue.
‘Hands up.’
