Marie Donovan – Royally Claimed (страница 8)
He jerked his arm away. “My wife is not here. She is ailing, poor woman, and I am alone on this island with an unsympathetic duke who mocks my injury.”
“How about some disinfectant spray and bandages? Besides, you’re flying home to the mainland, when?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Maybe when you take your wife to the doctor for her ‘female problems,’ they can look at your hand.”
Benedito pursed his lips. “If Your Grace refuses…”
“I’m not taking you to see Julia for skinned knuckles. Do you know how hard I had to work to get her to go to lunch with me? And she’s coming to the island for the afternoon tomorrow as soon as I drop you at the airport.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Benedito beamed at him as if he were a particularly stupid student who had finally done something smart. Whistling a ribald folktune, he strutted over to the sink and scrubbed his fingers without even wincing.
“Why, you old faker!” Frank didn’t know whether to throw something at him or give him a raise. “You were looking for an excuse to get me to see her again?”
His only reply was an innocent shrug. “I feel much better already. Perhaps it is your healing presence.”
“I’m a duke, not a saint. Now, don’t you have some packing to do?”
“I have plenty of work to do before I leave, Don Franco. But continue your own work. You will not hear a peep from old Benedito.”
That was what worried him. Like his sisters’ kids, Benedito was only quiet when looking for trouble.
He shook his head as Benedito scooted out of the kitchen. Frank’s phone rang and he answered. “George?”
“Frank, glad I caught you.” It was his best friend from college and brother of the bride. George’s relaxed voice came over the satellite connection. Of course he always sounded relaxed, being in love with Renata, his beautiful and sexy American fiancée. “How have you been?”
“Keeping busy with getting the villa in order. It just needs some cosmetic work and a bit of cleaning.”
“Oh, so you’re in the Azores? I was wondering why the connection took a little while longer. How is it?”
“Lovely as ever.”
“What? You hate being out there anymore. The last couple times you barely stayed long enough to get your luggage off the boat.”
Frank grinned. “Let’s just say things are coming full circle.”
“What? I better call Jack. You sound like you’ve taken too much cold medication.”
“George…” He rolled his eyes but greeted Jack dutifully. George and Frank had been his best men at Jack’s whirlwind wedding in Philadelphia last summer. George had met Lily, Jack’s beautiful American bride, and they had all gone out for cheesesteaks and fries. Yum.
“Frank’s in the Azores,” George announced. “And he’s enjoying himself.”
“That’s great. Congratulate me,
A stunned hush fell over the group.
“A baby,” Frank finally choked out, fighting back bittersweet memories. “Jack, that’s wonderful.”
“Amazing.” George’s voice sounded husky, as well. “And how is your lovely wife feeling?”
“Ah, not so good.” He lowered his voice. “I tried to tell her that illness is a good sign that the hormones are strong and working well, but all she did was call me bad names. In French, no less. She picked it up from the farm workers—I’ll have to take my manager to task for allowing such vulgarity.” But he sounded giddy and not about to punish anybody.
“Renata and I are going to have a baby,” George announced.
“What?” they chorused.
“No, not now. As soon as Renata and I are married. I cannot have the next Prince of Vinciguerra born less than nine months after our wedding. Just my luck he would be a ten-pound baby and nobody would believe he was early.”
Frank nodded. “Don’t want any doubt about succession to the throne.”
“Exactly,” George agreed. “But enough about babies—at least for now, Jack. Do keep us posted.”
“But of course. How is your lovely island, Frank?”
“About to get lovelier at one o’clock tomorrow.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you remember, but many, many years ago, I stayed the summer here.”
“Yes?” they answered cautiously, remembering the terrible autumn that had followed when Frank had become a mess, a zombie unable to function without Julia.
“I don’t know if it is fate or luck, but I am here—and so is she.”
“She? You mean Julia?” George knew that name well, having listened to Frank cry in his beer for weeks.
“But how can that be? Did you find her and invite her?” Jack sounded confused.
“Her parents live here now and she was visiting them. They are back in the States with elderly relatives, and I have her all to myself.”
“Oh.” George paused for a couple seconds. “And how is Julia?” he asked politely.
“Single and more beautiful than ever.”
“Please, Frank, just be careful,” Jack urged him. “People do change after all these years. You are different. She will be different. You cannot expect to pick up where you left off.”
“Why would I want to do that? We left off with her leaving me, Jack.” Frank was getting irritated. His best friends had found the loves of their lives, and Jack was having a baby, as well.
“I think Jack is just concerned for you, Frank,” George added, ever the diplomat. “Obviously you are a grown man now, with more experience in matters of the heart. But sometimes you see things with rosecolored glasses, as the American phrase goes. Take a good look at the situation with as much clarity as you can.”
“Like you two did with Renata and Lily?” he asked pointedly.
There was silence and then two voices breaking into guilty laughter. “Do as we say, not as we do, Frank,” Jack said.
“Ah, yes, we did not listen to our own advice, did we, Jack?”
“Not at all. But it all turned out well in the end.”
“And maybe it will for me and Julia, too.”
“If that is your wish, we certainly hope so,” Jack said.
“I don’t know,” Frank said thoughtfully. “I was a wreck when she left me the first time. Should I risk it?”
George sighed. “Life is full of risk.” His own parents had not lived past their mid-forties. “All we can do is live for the moment and hope for the best.”
“Very true. Fate can be cruel,” Jack agreed, having seen plenty of tragedies as a disaster-relief physician. Frank didn’t even want to imagine what he had witnessed over his years of work.
Frank congratulated Jack on his baby-to-be and wrote down some important wedding dates from George before hanging up. He had just enough time to finish at the villa before he needed to check in at the estates and then go to the wedding in Vinciguerra.
But as he worked on more estate business, he thought about what George and Jack had said about the vagaries of fate.
Frank didn’t want any risk. He was a farmer and rancher. Uncertainty was dangerous. The seasons turned, the crops were planted and harvested, animals were born and grew. The Dukes of Aguas Santas were born and grew. And died, like his own father twenty years before.
But Frank was the last and only Duke. Without him, there were only his sisters, who were uninterested and unprepared to run the estate. And to maintain everything until their children were old enough? Almost impossible. Without proper management, his estates would decline and be sold, the title of Duke of Aguas Santas a title in name only for his oldest nephew.
He drummed his fingers on the table. Until meeting Julia again, he had planned to court his sister’s friend, Paulinha. Now that plan was on the scrap heap. Julia was the only woman who made him feel, made him alive. But as his friends had so unwelcomely pointed out, people changed. Maybe he and Julia had changed enough that they could stay together this time.
UNTIL NOW, PRINCESS Stefania has been hush-hush over many of the fashion details of her big day, but she finally told our loyal royal correspondent Countess Lily de Brissard how she’s decided to wear her hair. Long and loose or fabulous up-do? A little of both, it turns out. “I have a small face and lots of curly hair,” explained Princess Stefania. “So I plan to pull the top and sides back in a smooth do, while letting the back hang loose and curly. This way, I can have my hair out of my face but still have my natural look.”
Princess Stefania also has something very special for the “something old” category of the old wedding rhyme—“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” “I will be wearing my grandmother’s own bridal veil from her wedding more than fifty years ago. It was handmade in Belgium and is the finest, most delicate lace imaginable. They don’t make lace like that anymore, and I’m so proud to wear it in my grandmother’s honor.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.