You can look so pretty if you put your mind to it!’
The implication being that she didn’t look at all pretty at the moment. Well, that was a good thing. She wanted to fade away into the background. She didn’t want him looking at her that way. Making her feel those things. Making her ache. Making her wonder…
‘But I’d have been even later if I’d stopped to do that,’ Millie protested, and then a dark shadow fell over her, and she didn’t need to look up into that hard and handsome face to know whose shadow it was. She found herself having to suppress a shiver of excitement as he came to stand beside them and hoped that her mother hadn’t noticed.
‘Prince Gianferro,’ said Countess de Vere, with the biggest smile Millie had ever seen her give, ‘I’d like you to meet my younger daughter, Millicent.’
Millie risked glancing up then—it would have been sheer rudeness to do otherwise—and she found herself staring up into his face, all aristocratic cheekbones and dark, mocking eyes. Say you’ve met me, she silently beseeched him. Say that and everything will be okay.
But he didn’t. Just lifted the tips of her fingers to his lips and made the slightest pressure with his mouth, and Millie felt a whisper of longing trickle its way down her spine.
‘Contentissimo,’ he murmured. ‘Millicent.’
‘Millie,’ she corrected immediately as she dragged her hand away from the temptation of his touch and met his eyes in silent rebuke, some of her fearlessness returning to rescue her. ‘Should I curtsey?’
His mouth curved. ‘Do you want to?’
Was she imagining things, or was that a loaded question and—oh, heavens—why was she even thinking this way? He was Lulu’s, not hers—and by no stretch of the imagination could he ever be hers—even if Lulu wasn’t in the picture.
She nodded her head as she dipped into a graceful and effortless bob, hoping that the formal greeting would put proper distance between them.
‘Perfetto,’ he murmured.
‘Yes, it was an excellent curtsey, darling,’ said her mother, with a glow of slightly bemused satisfaction. ‘Now, please apologise to the Prince for your lateness!’
‘I—’
His eyes were full of devilment. ‘I expect you had something far more exciting to do?’
He was weaving her deeper into the deception, and she was wondering how he would react if she said something like, You know perfectly well what I was doing, when to her relief the lunch bell rang.
‘Lunch,’ she murmured politely.
‘Saved by the bell,’ came his mocking retort, and Millie saw her mother blink, looking even more bemused.
Probably wondering how her mouse of a daughter had managed to engage the Prince’s interest for more than a nanosecond!
There were twenty for lunch, and—as Millie had fully expected—she was seated at the very end of the table, about as far away from him as it was possible to be. And I hope you’re enjoying your lunch, she thought, because every mouthful I take is threatening to choke me!
But Gianferro was not enjoying his lunch, and course after course made an appearance. The food was sublime, the surroundings exquisite and the company exactly as it should be—except…
His eyes kept straying to the girl at the end of the table. How unlike her sister she was. Lulu was as pampered and as immaculate as a world-class model—while Millie wore a simple dress which emphasised her long-limbed and naturally slim body. Her pale blonde hair was tied back and her face was completely free of make-up, and yet she looked as fresh and as natural as a bunch of flowers.
From close at his side Lulu leaned over, and he caught a drift of her expensive French perfume. Inexplicably he found himself comparing it to the earthy scent of horses and saddlesoap.
‘You haven’t touched your wine, Gianferro!’ Lulu scolded.
He shrugged. ‘Did you not know that I never drink at lunchtime?’
‘No, I didn’t! How boring!’ Lulu pulled a face. ‘Why ever not?’
‘I need to have a clear head.’
‘Not always, surely? Isn’t it nice sometimes to be…um…’ She shot him a coquettish glance. ‘Relaxed in the afternoon?’
He knew exactly what she was suggesting, and found himself…outraged. Or maybe, he admitted with painful honesty, maybe he was just looking for an excuse to be outraged. But it was more than that. Gianferro was an expert where women were concerned, and today he had seen Lulu on her home territory—and instinct told him that she was not what he wanted.
She was beautiful, yes—and confident and alluring—but her manner had been predatory since he had first set foot in her house, and while it was a quality which was admirable in a mistress it was not what he wanted from a wife.
Now she was flicking her hair back and letting her fingertips play with her necklace—all signs of sexual attraction, which was well and good. But he had realised something else, and he knew deep down that his instinct was the right one.
She was not a virgin!
Whereas Millie…
His gaze flicked down the table and he found her eyes on him. Huge and blue, confused and troubled. And as their eyes met she bit her lip and turned away, as if she had been stung.
Once again he felt the unexpected throb of a desire so primitive that it felt like something deeper than desire.
‘Gianferro?’
He gave his most bland and diplomatic smile as he turned to the woman by his side. ‘S
Lulu’s eyes were shining with undisguised invitation. ‘Would you like me to show you round the estate this afternoon? I mean, properly?’ She smiled. ‘There are all kinds of hidden treasures in Caius Hall.’
Gianferro steeled himself. All his life he had controlled—had chosen the correct path to take—and yet the route he had been following had suddenly become blurred. He knew that the unspoken understanding which had existed so precariously between himself and Lulu would now never be voiced. No offer had been made and therefore there could be no rejection.
She would know, of course, and be disappointed—yes, invariably—but far better a mild disappointment at this early stage than engaging in something which he knew would never work.
He knew what he should do. Walk away today without looking back—but now he found he had chanced upon an unexpectedly clear path to take. His route no longer seemed blurred at all.
‘Shall we all move places for dessert?’ questioned Millie’s mother.
Gianferro nodded. ‘Indeed. I should like the chance to talk to both your daughters.’
It was undeniably a command, and the very last thing she wanted—or was it?—but Millie knew where
