was in lieu of the usual big wedding. The world needed to see how the Bravo-Calabretti family welcomed the new husband of one of their own.
Rhia’s groom had been orphaned soon after his birth. He’d started with nothing—and become a fine man, one who’d gone far in spite of his humble beginnings. The party wasn’t just for show. The Bravo-Calabrettis did welcome him.
Alice loved that about her family. They judged a man—or a woman—by his or her behavior and accomplishments. Not by an accident of birth or a string of inherited titles. If Alice were to choose a man with nothing, her family would support her in her choice.
Not that she was anywhere close to choosing anyone. Certainly not a bold blue-eyed American she’d only just met and would likely not see again.
She banished the stable hand from her mind—yet again—as Rhia grabbed her hand and pulled her down the curving staircase. They wove their way through the crowd toward the wide-open entrance to the big white tent. Alice spotted her brother Damien, the youngest of the four Bravo-Calabretti princes, entering the tent, his dark head thrown back as he laughed at something the tall golden-haired man beside him had said....
“Allie?” Rhia turned back to her with a puzzled frown.
Alice realized she’d stopped in midstep at the base of the stairs and was staring with her mouth hanging open. Her brother and the other man disappeared inside the tent. She’d only caught the briefest glimpse of the other man from the back. And then from the side, for that split second when he’d turned his head. “It can’t be...”
“Allie?” her sister asked again.
“I could have sworn...”
“Are you all right?” A worried frown creased the space between Rhia’s smooth brows.
Alice blinked and shook her head. Lovely. Not only was she obsessing over a near stranger, she was also hallucinating that she saw the same man, perfectly turned out in white tie and tails, chatting up her brother. “Did you see that tall blond man with Dami? They just went inside the tent.”
“Dami? I didn’t notice.”
“You didn’t notice Dami, or the man with him?”
“Either. Allie, really. Are you all right?”
“I’m beginning to wonder about that,” she muttered.
“You’re mumbling. Say again?”
Alice would have loved to drag her favorite sister off somewhere private, where she could tell her all about the scruffy, sexy, unforgettable stable hand—whom she could have sworn she’d just seen wearing a perfectly cut designer tailcoat and evening trousers and sharing a joke with their brother. She wanted a comforting hug and some solid, down-to-earth advice. But now was not the time. She tugged on Rhia’s hand. “It doesn’t matter. Come on. Let’s go in. Marcus will be wondering where you’ve gone.”
* * *
The family table was a long one, set up on a dais at the far end of the tent. All their brothers and sisters were there. The married ones had come with their spouses. Even dear Belle, who lived in America now with her horse-rancher husband, Preston McCade, had come all the way from Montana to celebrate with Rhia and Marcus. Only the little nieces and nephews were missing tonight. This was a grown-up party after all.
Rhia whispered, “We never have time to talk anymore.”
“I know. I miss you, too.”
“Come to our villa at seven Sunday night. We’ll have dinner, catch up. Just the two of us.”
“What about Marcus?”
“He’s dining at the palace with Alex. Something about the CCU.” Alexander, Damien’s twin, was third-born of their brothers. Alex had created the elite fighting force the Covert Command Unit, in which Marcus served.
“I’ll be there,” Alice promised.
With a last hug, Rhia left her to join her groom in her seat of honor at the center of the table.
Alice went to greet her parents. Her mother, looking amazing as always in beaded black Chanel, gave her a kiss and a fond, “Hello, my darling,” and didn’t say a word about her tardiness. Her mother was like that. HSH Adrienne had high expectations, but she’d never been one to nag.
In the past, Alice had crashed a motorcycle in the marketplace, run off with a sheikh for a week in Marrakech, been photographed for Vanity Fair wearing only a cleverly draped silk scarf and been arrested in Beijing for participating in a protest march. Among other things.
Until Glasgow, her mother had never done more than gently remind her that she was a princess of Montedoro and expected to behave like one. But after Glasgow, for the first time, Alice had been summoned to her mother’s office. HSH Adrienne had asked her to shut the door and then coolly informed her that she’d finally gone too far.
“Alice,” her mother had said much too sadly, too gently, “it’s one thing to be spirited and adventurous. It’s another to be an embarrassment to yourself and our family. In future I am counting on you to exercise better judgment and to avoid situations that will lead to revealing, provocative pictures of you splashed across the front pages of the Sun and the Daily Star.”
It had been awful. Just thinking about it made her feel a little sick to her stomach.
And sad, too. A bit wilted and grim.
Shake it off, she commanded herself. Let it go.
Alice looked for her place card and found it between her older sister Belle’s husband, Preston McCade, and her younger sister Genevra. Genny wore shimmering teal-blue satin and was giggling over something with another sister, the youngest, Rory, who was seated on Genny’s other side.
Damien sat at the opposite end of the table. No sign of the man who looked like Noah. Alice considered hustling down there and asking Dami...what?
Who was that man with the dark blond hair, the one you came in with?
And what if he stared at her blankly and demanded, Allie, darling, what man?
She waffled just long enough that she missed her chance. Her mother rose and greeted the guests. A hush fell over the tent. Then her father stood, as well. He picked up his champagne glass to propose the first toast.
Allie reached for her glass, raised it high and drank on cue. Then she took her seat. She greeted her sisters and Preston, whom she liked a lot. He was charming and a little shy, with a great sense of humor. He bred and trained quarter horses, so they had plenty to talk about.
There were more toasts. Alice paced herself, taking very small sips of champagne, practicing being low-key and composed for all she was worth. By the time the appetizer was served, she felt glad she hadn’t asked Dami about the broad-shouldered stranger with the dark gold hair and perfectly cut evening clothes.
It was nothing. It didn’t matter. She would have a fine evening celebrating her dearest sister’s hard-earned happiness. And no one else would know that she’d imagined she saw someone who wasn’t really there. She accepted a second glass of champagne from a passing servant and picked up a spear of prosciutto-wrapped asparagus—and
