Caesar might not love her, but he did love Ollie. She couldn’t deny that. He had been sincere when he had spoken of his instant fatherly love for their son—a boy who desperately needed his father.
The point Caesar had made about her reputation and her shame, especially with regard to her grandparents, had touched a nerve. Didn’t she owe it to her grandparents as well as to Oliver to do what Caesar wanted?
She had always known that at some stage Oliver would have to know not just the identity of his father but the circumstances surrounding his conception. That had always worried her. Which was why she had been so reluctant to tell him what had happened until she had felt he was old enough to be able to deal with that kind of information.
Even so, she wasn’t going to give in without a fight.
‘It’s all very well you claiming that my shame will be wiped out by marriage to you, but there is bound to be gossip about the past. I’ve always protected Oliver from … from what happened. Once he’s acknowledged as your son, even if you legitimise him and marry me, people are bound to talk. Oliver could be hurt by what he might hear. I can’t allow that.’
‘You won’t have to allow it. Naturally when I announce that Oliver is my son and that you and I are to marry I shall discreetly let it be known that my own behaviour during that summer was not as it should have been, and that my feelings for you and my jealousy because of the interest being shown in you by other young men led me to fail in my duty to protect you. I shall say that when I asked you to marry me then you refused. You were a modern girl, a young modern girl, who had her own plans for her future. I had to let you go. On your return visit here we both discovered that those old feelings were still very strong, and this time when I proposed you accepted.’
‘You would do that?’
It was a generous offer, and it caught her off guard, undermining her defences. Something inside her couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have the protection of a man like Caesar who genuinely loved you. She mustn’t even think about asking herself that question, Louise warned herself. It made her far too vulnerable.
‘Yes, of course. If you were my wife it would be my duty to protect your reputation.’
Ah, of course. It wasn’t her he would be protecting, her to whom he would be making amends for old wounds inflicted, it would be her position as his wife.
‘If your grandfather was alive he would want you to accept my proposal for both your own and Oliver’s sake.’
‘How much emotional pressure are you intending to put on me?’ Louise challenged him.
‘As much as it takes,’ he responded, unabashed. ‘There are two ways we can do this, Louise. The first is calmly and matter of factly—with both of us working together in Oliver’s best interests to provide him with the most secure emotional life we can, with both of us here for him as his parents within marriage. The other is for us to battle it out for him and for his loyalty and risk, as we do so, inflicting the most terrible emotional damage on him.’
‘You’ve forgotten the third alternative.’
‘And that is?’
‘That you forget that Oliver is your son and you allow him and me to return to our lives in London.’
The words the way you did me hung in the air between them, unspoken, but Caesar proved to her that he knew what she was thinking when he said curtly, ‘I can never forgive myself for being weak enough to allow Aldo Barado to persuade me of the damage it would do to both of us if it got out that you had spent the night with me. He had seen you leaving the castello, you see, and he said …’
‘That you must not allow yourself to be associated with me—a girl he himself had denounced as a little tart set on seducing the village boys.’
‘It was the act of a weakling—a man who could not face up to his responsibilities, a man who allowed someone else to make his decisions for him.’ And it had also been the act of a man panicked into fleeing as fast as he could from the surging strength and power of an emotion he hadn’t been able to control. But he couldn’t tell her that. After all it had taken him long enough to admit it to himself—all those nights in his early twenties spent lying awake in bed next to a woman he had just possessed only to find himself filled with distaste for what he had done, conscious of an emptiness within him that had become such a permanent ache it had become ground into him.
From somewhere deep inside her Louise was conscious of her professional voice telling her quietly, It was the act of an orphaned twenty-two-year-old, carrying a heavy weight of huge responsibility and deliberately manipulated by a powerful older man who had his own agenda to protect.
Was she making allowances for him? Wasn’t that what her training had taught her to do? To look behind the façade and dig deep into what lay behind it?
‘I can’t let you deny our son his heritage, Louise. He has a right to grow up knowing what it is—good and bad—just as he has a right to reject it when he has grown up if that is his wish.’
He was sounding so reasonable that it was hard for her to throw emotional arguments at him. They would sound selfish—as though she wasn’t thinking of Oliver, as though she wasn’t listening to him.
‘I know how much I’m asking of you in Oliver’s name, but I also know that you are strong enough to accept the challenges that lie ahead.’
Oh, how underhand—to praise her like that and so undermine her.
‘If I let you walk away would it genuinely be the right thing for Oliver?’ Caesar shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. How is he going to feel about himself and about you, do you think, if you deny him the right to know his real heritage and to know me with it until he is old enough to discover it for himself? Are you really willing to risk inflicting that kind of damage on him just to keep him away from me?’
Of course she wasn’t. How could she? If she was honest with herself, the thought of a loveless, sexless marriage—with anyone other than Caesar—didn’t bother her. After all, she had already decided a long time ago, in the aftermath of the fall-out from Oliver’s conception, that given her apparent drive to pursue men who would only withhold their love from her it was far better for her not to get emotionally involved. After all, what patterns might he learn about man-to-woman relationships if he had to witness his own mother denigrating herself, constantly seeking the love she was being denied?
If she acceded to Caesar’s proposition she would be in a position where she would have some power within their relationship from its start, and be in a position to set boundaries for Oliver’s emotional security in all aspects of his growing up.
And finally she knew that this outcome, a marriage between her and Caesar so that Oliver could grow up with both his parents and legitimacy, would have delighted both her grandparents. They had made so many sacrifices for her—not just in taking her in when she had been so disgraced, but in helping her to learn to be a good mother, in supporting her when she had decided to return to her education, and in giving both her and Oliver the most wonderful and loving home.
She took a deep breath and stood up, walking several yards away from Caesar and into a patch of sunlight in a deliberate move intended to bring him out of the shadows so that she could see his expression when she spoke to him.
‘If I were to agree to
