Postcards From Rome. Maisey Yates
They were greeted by his parents’ housekeeper, their coats taken by another member of staff and then led into the sitting room by yet another.
Of course, his mother would not make an appearance until it was time to sit down at the table. He had a feeling it was calculated this time, even more than usual. That she was preparing herself for the unveiling of Renzo’s new fiancée.
His father would go along with his mother’s plan. Mostly because he had no desire to have something thrown at his head. Not that his mother had behaved with such hysterics for a great many years. But everyone knew she possessed the capacity for such things, and so they tended to behave with a bit of deference for it.
He turned to look at Esther, who was regarding the massive, Baroque setting with unconcealed awe. “You will have to look a bit more inured to your surroundings. As far as my parents know you have been with me for at least a couple of months, which means you will have been at events like this with me before.”
“This place is like a museum,” she said, keeping her tone hushed, her dark eyes glittering with wonder. It did something to him. Something to his chest. Unlike earlier, when she had done something to him in parts much lower.
“Yes,” he said, “it is, really. A museum of my family’s achievements. Of all of the things they have managed to collect over the centuries. I told you, my parents were very proud of our name and our heritage. Of what it means to be Valentis.” He gritted his teeth. “Blood is everything to them.”
It was why they would accept Esther. Why they would accept the situation. Because except in extreme circumstances, they valued their bloodline in their heritage.
He deliberately kept himself from thinking of the one time they had not.
“Renzo.” He turned at the sound of his sister’s voice, surprised to see her standing there with her husband, Cristian, at her side, Renzo’s niece held securely in her father’s arms.
“Allegra,” he said, standing and walking across the room to drop a kiss on his younger sister’s cheek. He extended his hand for Cristian, shaking it firmly before touching his niece’s cheek. “I did not know you would be here.”
“Neither did we.”
“Did you fly from Spain for dinner?”
Cristian lifted a shoulder. “When your mother demands an audience, it is best not to refuse, as I’m sure you know.”
“Indeed.”
He turned and looked at Esther, who was still sitting on the settee, her hands folded in her lap, her shoulders curved inward, as though she were trying to disappear. “Allegra, Cristian, this is my fiancée, Esther Abbott.”
His words seemed to jolt Esther out of her internal reclusion.
“Hello,” she said, getting to her feet, stumbling slightly as she did. “You must be... Well, I’m not really sure.”
Allegra shot him a questioning glance. “Allegra Acosta. Formerly Valenti. I’m Renzo’s younger sister. This is my husband, Cristian.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, keeping her hands folded firmly in front of her but nodding her head. He was hardly going to correct her, or direct her to do something different from what she had done, but he could see that coaching would be required in the future.
“It seems the family will all be here,” he said. “Such a surprise.”
“Engaged. You’re engaged. That’s why Mother called us and told us to get on Cristian’s private jet, I imagine.”
“Most definitely,” Renzo returned.
“You didn’t tell me,” Allegra said.
“In fairness to me, you did not tell me that you were expecting my best friend’s baby until it became unavoidable. You can hardly lecture me on not serving up a particular piece of news immediately.”
His sister’s face turned scarlet, and he looked back at Esther, who was watching the exchange with rapt attention. “Don’t pay attention to him,” Allegra said to Esther. “He very much likes to be shocking. And he likes to make me mad.”
“That seems in keeping with what I know about him,” Esther said.
Cristian laughed at that. “You two can’t have been together very long,” he said. “But it does seem you have a handle on him.”
Esther looked down. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Renzo poured himself a drink, feeling slightly sorry for Esther that he could not offer her the same. Especially given what he was about to do. “Since Mother didn’t tell you the great news of my engagement, I imagine she didn’t tell you I have other news.”
“No,” Allegra and Cristian said together.
“Esther and I are expecting a baby.” He reached out, putting his arm around Esther’s shoulders, rubbing his thumb up and down her arm when he felt her go stiff. That didn’t help, but he knew that it needled her. So, he would have to take that as consolation.
Allegra said nothing, Cristian’s expression one of almost comedic stillness. Finally, it was Cristian who spoke. “Congratulations. Start catching up on your sleep now.”
Allegra still said nothing.
“I can see you’re completely stunned by the good news,” he said.
“Well, yes. I know you’ve made many declarations to me about how you intend to be shocking at all times, so I don’t know why I’m surprised. Actually, I heavily resent my surprise. I should be immune to any sort of shock where you’re concerned.”
Of course, she wasn’t. Being his younger sister, Allegra always seemed to want to believe the best of him. Which was a very nice thing, in its way. But he was a constant disappointment to her. He knew that his marriage to Ashley had been something more than a shock. Although, why, he didn’t know. He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that he intended to marry the most unsuitable, shocking woman that he could find.
That was one that had backfired on him.
“Truly, little sister, you should know me better than that by now. Anyway, let us refrain from speaking of the other ways in which I’ve shocked you in front of Esther. She’s still under the illusion that I’m something of a gentleman.”
Esther looked at him, her expression bland. “I can assure you I’m not.”
Cristian and Allegra seemed to find that riotously amusing. Mostly, he imagined, because they thought she was being dry. In fact, he had a feeling Esther was being perfectly sincere. She was sincere. That was something he was grappling with. Because he didn’t know very many sincere people.
He was much more accustomed to those who were cynical. Who approached the world with a healthy bit of opportunism. It was the sincere people who dumbfounded him. Mostly, because he couldn’t figure out a way to relate to them. He couldn’t anticipate them.
Seeing her earlier today trying on all of those clothes, the way she had looked at him when he had touched her leg, when he had bent down to change her shoes, had been something of a revelation. Until then he had still been skeptical of her. Of her story, of who she claimed to be.
But who she seemed to present was exactly who she was. A somewhat naive creature who was from a world entirely apart from the one she was in now. Her reaction to his parents’ house only reinforced that. He had watched her closely upon entry. If she were a gold digger, he felt he would have seen a moment—even if it was only a moment—where she had looked triumphant. Where she had fully understood the prize that she was inheriting.
Frankly, the position he had put her in gave her quite a bit of leverage for taking advantage. Yes, DNA tests would prove that the child wasn’t hers, but who knew how a ruling might go in Italy where there were no laws to support surrogacy. She was the woman who carried the child, and she would give birth to the child. He imagined