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‘Be careful!’ The surge of protective concern edged his voice with gravel.
It was possibly good advice.
‘Those heels are a little high, considering…’
Her smile of gratitude half formed froze in place as the warmth in his eyes hardened. ‘Considering what?’
‘Isn’t that obvious?’ he said, seemingly oblivious to the danger in her voice.
‘Please do not try and wrap me up in cotton wool, Dante. I am a woman, not an incubator, and I’m pregnant, not ill.’ Having made her point, she hoped—it was hard to tell from his expression—she didn’t dwell on the subject. She took a deep breath and moved the conversation on. ‘So, who is there tonight, again?’
Him going over the guest list gave her the opportunity to gather a little of her composure.
‘Wow, it sounds like a fun evening.’ Her mocking smile faded as she looked up at him, conscious of the gaping gap that had grown between them as they’d walked. Was there ever a time when she could have bridged it without a baby?
If so, it had gone, because without the baby she would not be here.
She damped the beads of moisture along her upper lip as she struggled to banish the questions and doubts swirling in her head.
‘What am I even doing here?’
‘Is that a rhetorical question?’
She shook her head. ‘Sorry, just a mild panic attack, but don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behaviour.’
‘No, don’t.’
Her blue eyes fluttered wide. ‘What?’
‘All I want is for you to be yourself.’ Infuriating, foot-in-mouth but always honest self. ‘I get tired…of people…’
‘Polishing your ego?’
He gave a cynical grin. ‘I’m sometimes tempted to announce the world is flat just to watch them admire my amazing intellect.’
She laughed. ‘I’d pay good money to see that.’
‘It isn’t too late to change your mind.’
‘Yes, it is,’ she countered as they passed into the palace proper, as she called it in her head.
The carpet underfoot now was inches deep and scarlet with a border of gold; the crystal chandeliers glittering overhead lit the long corridor that seemed to stretch into infinity, guarded by rows of portraits of more of Dante’s ancestors, ancestors’ wives, children and dogs and, in one case, a leopard with a jewelled collar looking almost as supercilious as its mistress.
If the intention was to impress or intimidate, it did both.
They were the last to join the guests and family in the drawing room, where the mingling involved a lot of diamond tiaras, medals on lapels and stiffly formal conversation.
‘Did all conversations stop just now, or did I forget to put my clothes on?’ Beatrice asked, her cheeks already starting to ache from the effort of maintaining her meaningless smile.
Her comment invited Dante to see her naked, every sleek, smooth, glorious inch of her, and his imagination obliged, which meant his smile was forced around the edges and he felt the need to loosen his tie, an action which, across the room, earned a horrified glare from his mother.
‘Forget the gossips, we owe them no explanations.’
She slung an ‘easy for you to say’ look up at the tall, imposing figure of her husband as she gritted out through a clenched smile, ‘I feel like I’ve stumbled into one of my nightmares. Do you think there are odds on how long I’ll stay this time?’ She took a deep breath and allowed her veiled blue gaze to take in all the details. ‘Wow, this really is vintage Velazquez. Reminds me of everything I don’t miss.’
‘On the plus side, so is the champagne,’ Dante said, appropriating two flutes from a passing waiter, then, realising what he’d done, slammed them back down on the tray and selected the alternative sparkling water just before the Queen, wearing a staggering amount of diamonds, bore down on them.
‘How delightful you look. Good flight?’ The Queen greeted her with gracious frigidity and raised a pencilled eyebrow when Beatrice drained the glass of sparkling water in her hand.
