Sins (20 page)

‘Here…’

The handerchief he passed her under the table was
snowy white and immaculately ironed. Josh might live in his own flat but he still took his laundry home to his mother.

‘I’m sorry,’ Rose apologised when she had dried her eyes. ‘It’s just…Well, when you find out something really important that you didn’t know, and then you find out that someone you thought you really mattered to and who you trusted had known and hadn’t told you…it hurts.’

‘Life hurts, Rosie, but you’ve got to be strong.’

‘I hate looking like I do, being “different”. If I’d looked like my father and not my mother…’ Fresh tears filled her eyes.

‘Hey, come on, that’s enough of that,’ Josh chided her gently. ‘You’re a stunning-looking girl, Rosie, a real beauty.’

‘I’m different, I’m—’

‘Special,’ Josh told her firmly. ‘That’s what being different is. It’s being special. You and me, we’re both special, and that’s important. It’s more important than anything else, because when you’re special, then you’ve got something that other people don’t have. You’re luckier than them. At least that’s the way I look at it. It’s the way you’ve got to look at it.’ He added fiercely, ‘It’s either sink or swim, Rosie. You can let the so-and-sos put you down and kick you in the arse, or you can get up and smile and promise yourself that one day you’ll be the one kicking them, and I know which
I
want to be. There’s no law that says that the people who think they’re better than we are have it all their own way.’

Rose tried to smile. Josh was only trying to cheer her
up, but it was different for him. He might be Jewish–and some people were, she knew, antagonistic towards Jews–but at least Josh was part of a community. London had a large Jewish population and he had a family, a proper family. She was a one-off, someone who didn’t fit in anywhere, neither into her father’s family, nor the Chinese community in London, because she was neither one thing nor the other.

Cassandra’s cruel disclosures haunted her. She had tried not to give them any credence but Cassandra had been so confident, so sure, so knowing, as though aware all along she had been privy to this secret from which Rose had been excluded.

‘I thought that Amber should have told you the truth,’ Cassandra had said to her. ‘I said so all along. After all, you had a right to know, and I believed you could be trusted with the secret, but Amber obviously didn’t agree with me. But then Greg was her brother and she had her own children to think of–and herself.’

Was Cassandra right? Rose didn’t know. She only knew that she felt desperately alone and confused, and that she couldn’t bear to be in Amber’s company right now and had taken to avoiding her to protect herself–to protect them both and, of course, John. She would have been so proud to have been publicly able to claim John as her brother. Oddly it now felt right and much more comfortable somehow to love him in that way rather than as she had done before, with a schoolgirl crush. But as his stepmother had said, John would not be proud to claim her as his half-sister. He would not want to have the possibility of a blood relationship with her forced
on him. He would be horrified and ashamed because of what she was.

‘I cannot bear the thought of us having to part. When I return to my own country I shall be wishing every day that I could be here with you. I would do anything to be with you.’ Alessandro was close to tears.

Emerald’s emotions, on the other hand, were firmly under control and focused on something far more important than Alessandro’s misery.

It had been Emerald’s suggestion that they met in Hyde Park; it was one of the few places they could go where they could have some degree of privacy.

There had scarcely been a day since the night of Emerald’s coming-out ball when they hadn’t seen one another and, thanks in the main to Emerald, had managed to find somewhere to snatch a few private minutes together, all of which, just as she had planned, had fanned the flames of Alessandro’s passion for her.

The previous day, though, he had told her that his mother was talking about summoning someone from Lauranto to escort Alessandro back to the principality because she felt that he had been away for long enough; her own return would have to be delayed to allow her to remain with her dying cousin.

Right from the start Emerald had realised that Alessandro was in awe of his mother and that she controlled him. Alessandro himself had naïvely told Emerald that his mother wasn’t happy about him having the amount of personal freedom he was currently enjoying.

‘Poor Mama worries so about me,’ he had told Emerald. ‘She would prefer to be with me but of course she cannot leave her cousin.’

‘What a saint she must be,’ Emerald had responded mock sweetly. ‘I would so love to meet her.’

Alessandro’s reaction to her suggestion had told her all she needed to know about his relationship with his mother. He had positively squirmed with discomfort and had even looked over his shoulder as though he half feared that his mother might actually appear.

‘She is a saint, as you say,’ he had agreed, ‘but she is not used to the ways of London society.’

‘Oh, what do you mean?’ Emerald had asked him.

Alessandro had looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, she would not approve…That is to say that Laurantese girls do not have the same freedom that girls have here in London. Of course, we are a Catholic country.’

‘Oh dear,’ Emerald had responded with false concern, ‘I do hope that your mother won’t disapprove of me, Alessandro. I do so want her to like me.’

‘She will like you, of course,’ Alessandro had rushed to assure her.

Thinking of Alessandro’s mother now reminded Emerald that there was something she needed to know.

‘Dearest,’ she asked him sweetly, taking hold of his hand, ‘it is not because of me that your mother is sending you home, is it? Only I know that you did say that she might not approve of me and—’

‘Oh, no, it isn’t because of you. She doesn’t even know that I see you,’ Alessandro answered her.

Emerald squeezed his hand and hid her real feelings.
She knew perfectly well that Alessandro’s mother would not approve of her. The princess had controlled so much of her son’s life that it was impossible that she wouldn’t also want to control his choice of friends.

‘It isn’t that I haven’t wanted to tell her about you,’ Alessandro was saying.

‘Do you think she would like me, Alessandro?’

‘Of course she will,’ he confirmed. ‘She will love you, as I do.’

Emerald moved closer to him. The May sunshine was warm enough for her to be wearing a button-through cotton dress, the fabric splashed with large cornflowers. Emerald had unfastened the top few buttons so that the upper curves of her breasts were revealed. She smiled with satisfaction when she saw the way Alessandro’s ardent gaze kept returning to the unfastened buttons.

‘You mustn’t look at me like that, dearest, otherwise I might be tempted to do something naughty,’ she told him softly.

‘I love you so much. I cannot bear the thought of us parting,’ Alessandro responded emotionally.

‘Oh, Alessandro…’ They had reached a remote part of the park, sheltered from the view of others by shrubs. Emerald stopped walking and turned to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

‘Please kiss me, dearest Alessandro,’ she begged him, tilting her face up towards his invitingly, then, once he had started to kiss her, pressing her body into his.

‘I love you. You are my life, my soul. I would do anything for you. You are my everything.’ Alessandro’s passionate
declarations were interspersed with equally passionate kisses.

Emerald swallowed down her impatience. His mother’s decision to send him home didn’t leave Emerald much time to do what she had determined she must.

The loathsome Australian was now being accepted everywhere as her father’s heir–accepted and courted by mothers with débutante daughters. Not only was she not now going to be HRH The Duchess of Kent, she was also going to be upstaged by the girl the Australian eventually married. And he would marry, if only to spite her, Emerald knew. She, as the unmarried daughter of the previous duke, would be pushed into the background, whilst his wife, the new duchess, flaunted her title and position. The very thought made Emerald seethe with fresh anger and resentment. She had to marry someone who would make good her boast to Gwendolyn and elevate her above her mother and the future Duchess of Lenchester.

And that someone would have to be Alessandro. It was true that he was foreign, and foreigners were not generally considered good catches, but he was also a prince, a crown prince, and just look at the fuss that had been made over Grace Kelly when she had married Prince Rainier!

As a crown prince he would be expected to marry and produce heirs, so why shouldn’t he marry her? He loved her, after all; he was always saying so.

He had stopped kissing her and Emerald pulled slightly away, feeling satisfied with what she had achieved. All she had to do now was encourage him to propose to
her. Which was why she had suggested this private walk in the park.

She was glad now that she had insisted that he behaved so circumspectly with her. The few–very few–rationed kisses she had allowed him only reinforced what she already knew–that he adored her.

But Emerald was no fool. Passionate kisses and a declaration of undying love were not the same thing as a proposal of marriage. Instinctively she knew that she would not be Alessandro’s mother’s choice of a future wife for her son, which meant that Emerald had to ensure that Alessandro committed himself–publicly–to marrying her before he told the princess.

Normally Emerald wouldn’t have wanted to be bothered with such complexities. She was used to people working to gain
her
approval, not the other way round, but the truth was that she was getting desperate. Her pride was making her desperate. She had believed that her coming-out ball would be an evening of triumph, followed by the announcement of her engagement to the Duke of Kent. Now she had been forced to admit that she had miscalculated badly and must somehow backtrack from that without losing face.

She had to secure the match of the season, and that meant marrying Alessandro. There was no way she was going to let Gwendolyn and the Australian sit there laughing at her. Emerald had spent many hours tussling mentally over her situation. Getting Alessandro to propose to her should be easy enough, but then there would be his mother to contend with. Finally Emerald had had a brilliant idea. She’d read in a magazine about
a society heiress who’d eloped to Gretna Green, and immediately she’d recognised what a perfect solution such an elopement would be to her own problems–and, of course, the sooner the better.

‘I cannot bear to leave you,’ Alessandro told her, ‘but there are duties waiting for me at home.’

Emerald knew she couldn’t afford to delay.

‘Duties which would be much easier for you to bear if you had a wife,’ she suggested firmly, moving closer to him.

Alessandro sighed. ‘Mama has said as much to me herself. Because of what happened to my father she is anxious to see me do my duty to the principality and provide an heir.’

Immediately Emerald reached for his hand and said breathlessly, ‘And as the girl you love, and who loves you, there is nothing I want to do more than share that duty with you as your wife.’

Alessandro squeezed her hand. ‘If only that could be so,’ he told her emotionally, ‘I would be the happiest man in all the world.’

‘Of course it can be so,’ Emerald stated firmly. ‘It should be so, when we love one another so much.’

‘My mother—’

Emerald could guess what was going to come next and hurried to head Alessandro off. ‘Your mother loves you–you have told me so often–and she will want your happiness more than anything else. I know this is so because I know that when I have children–sons–that is how I shall feel about them. And besides, why should we not marry?’

Alessandro was wavering, she could tell. Emerald focused on making herself look vulnerable, a skill she had perfected as a child. Her bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes.

Adopting a breathy voice she begged him, ‘You do love me like you’ve said that you do, don’t you? Only I don’t think I could bear it now if you didn’t, when I love you so much.’

‘Of course I love you.’

Emerald exhaled in relief. One more push and it would all be over.

‘And you want to marry me.’

She could feel his uncertainty.

‘Well…’

This was no time to hesitate. Hurling herself against his chest, Emerald pressed a tearful kiss on his cheek, sobbing, ‘You do, I know you do. Oh, this is so wonderful. You’ve made my dreams come true, Alessandro.’

Well, that, at least, was almost true.

‘I promise you that I’ll be the best wife you could have, I’ll give you lots of lovely sons and your mother will be so pleased to see you so happy that she will love me as much as I know I am going to love her. Oh, I can’t wait for us to be married. I can’t wait…’ she repeated, voice softer and sexier, now the deliberate wriggle of her body against his making her meaning plain as she offered him her lips.

How could he resist? Alessandro had been telling the truth when he’d declared his passion for her. He was besotted with her, totally blinded. Shielded from the realities of life by an overprotective and domineering mother,
he knew nothing whatsoever about girls like Emerald. How could he when the princess had taken great pains to make sure that he never met any?

Now, with Emerald in his arms and behaving in such an unfamiliar way, Alessandro’s heart swelled with love and sentiment whilst his body hardened with longing.

‘I want to be yours so much,’ Emerald whispered to him. ‘But we mustn’t until we’re married. You must be strong for us both, darling, darling Alessandro, because I don’t think that I can be.’

Should she urge him on and then use that to put extra pressure on him, or was it true that once you’d let a boy do ‘it’ they thought that you were easy and didn’t want you as much? Emerald wasn’t prepared to take the risk.

Whisking herself out of Alessandro’s arms as speedily as she had flung herself into them, she demanded, ‘You must call on my mother, of course, to ask for my hand.’