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‘What for?’ Anton’s eyes narrowed. ‘And brave how? She’s come home, Ben, not to face a firing squad, but to be welcomed back with open arms by all and sundry. What in the world is she so afraid of?’
To that, Benedetto could not reply truthfully.
‘Where are they taking her?’
‘To my mother, who has not slept for two days, since I told her that Amelia was coming home. We deliberated a long time about the best way to effect the reconciliation and decided privacy was appropriate.’
Ben heard the subtext. This was a family matter.
‘Come on.’ Anton nodded over his shoulder, to where another car was waiting. ‘Ride with me.’
A whole kaleidoscope of butterflies had taken up residence inside Amelia as the limousine cut through the streets of the old city and took the mountain roads to the palace. So familiar to her, so stunning and unlike any other part of the world. She could only stare out of the window—flanked as she was on either side by a guard, as though even now there was a risk she’d bolt—and allow the memories to consume her.
When the palace came into view, it was a moment of intense pain and exuberance. She made a guttural gasping sound and turned, seeking Benedetto, wanting to share it with him, but not able to, because he was no longer with her.
And that wasn’t his fault.
The guard had descended too quickly, had taken her away, and she’d let them. She could have commanded them to stop, to wait for him, but part of her had been glad to separate, because she’d made the decision to part from him. Self-preservation instincts had kicked in.
Running away again? a little voice demanded, but she ignored it.
If she was running away, it was only because it was the right thing to do. Benedetto wouldn’t want her to develop serious feelings for him—he’d sprint in the opposite direction if he thought there was any risk of that. Better to have ended it now, before it started to mean something to Amelia. Before she started to want him in her life, for always and for ever...
The limousine approached the palace gates, paused and entered at a snail’s pace before picking up speed again. The trees to the west of the path were in full bloom, startlingly yellow and so beautiful her heart lifted despite the trepidation she felt. The palace itself was a sight she’d craved, and Amelia drank it in now, every stone face and gold-tipped turret, the wall that was covered in scrambling bougainvillea, the roses that grew rampant at the front of the palace. It was all so lovely, so utterly known to Amelia.
Nervousness besieged her but somehow there was also relief. She could barely keep her emotions in check as she stepped from the vehicle, looking around on autopilot for Benedetto. But of course he wasn’t there yet.
She turned to one of the guards. ‘Would you have a car sent to the dock to collect Benedetto di Vassi?’
‘He has been collected, Your Highness.’
She physically recoiled at the use of her title. It had been a long time.
‘Is he here?’ She cursed her weakness immediately for asking the question.
‘This way please, Your Highness.’ Another guard spoke swiftly, a woman, gesturing towards the palace. Amelia compressed her lips, frustrated, but also impatient now, because she gathered where this was going. She was being brought home, to her family, to meet with them away from any risk of public scrutiny.
Her nerves jangled as the guard led her through the palace, as if she wouldn’t know the way herself, to the doors of one of the morning rooms.
‘Her Majesty is waiting,’ the female guard said with a small bow before opening the door and ushering Amelia in.
And there was her mother, standing in the middle of the room, wringing her hands in the exact same way Amelia did when she was nervous, until she saw Amelia and let out a cry that was barely human and ran across the room, throwing her arms around her daughter.
‘Oh, my darling,’ she sobbed, burying her head in Amelia’s shoulder, crying so much that her body was racked and her face wet. ‘You’re home. You have no idea how badly I wanted this, how much I have missed you. Oh, my darling, my darling girl, let me look at you,’ and she pulled away only so she could study Amelia intently for several seconds before wrapping her up in another huge hug.
Amelia was numb and overwhelmed at the same time, an unusual combination but so it was. She’d missed her mother too, and she loved her so much, but she knew that she had to grow strong, to inure herself to this life, because it wasn’t tenable for her to stay. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong anywhere.
Except on the boat, with Benedetto, that same dangerous little voice whispered in the back of her mind, imploring her to listen, to escape again, but this time, with him. This time with the proper goodbyes to her family, so they wouldn’t worry. But that was a fantasy she couldn’t indulge; it would never work long-term—he wouldn’t want it, and she couldn’t bear to ask it of him.
‘My darling, tell me everything.’ Anna-Maria Moretti wiped her tears and gestured to a small floral-covered sofa. They sat down as the door opened and a servant carried through a tray of biscuits and tea.
‘“Everything” would take a while.’
‘We have a while, don’t we?’ Anna-Maria asked, eyes roaming her daughter’s face. ‘You’re not going anywhere, are you?’
Amelia couldn’t quite meet her mother’s eyes. ‘Mum, listen,’ she began cautiously. But what could she say? That she knew about the affair? About her parentage? That she’d been blackmailed, that someone out there knew their secret? She clamped her mouth shut.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re home now. We can talk about it later.’
