Innocent's Secret Baby(23)

Or rather it had dimmed in the brief time he and Lydia had shared.

Now he turned off his phone, and it felt as if even the birds were silent as he faced the truth.

Bastiano had not been the first affair.

He had been the last.

And there had been many.

Raul had been taught to lie—not just to save himself but to cover for his mother.

He looked back to the convent and remembered her tears when it had closed and her misery. Then he recalled her being more cheerful, when her mood would lift for a while. And while it would make most children happy to see their mother smile, Raul had known that if he were to keep her safe, then the lies had to start again.

Maria Di Savo.

Unhinged, some had called her.

‘Fragile’ was perhaps a more appropriate word.

At least it was the one Raul chose.

But with more open eyes than the last time he had stood here.

‘Rest now,’ he said to the stone, and he went to lay the lilies.

But then he divided them into two.

And he turned to the grave of Gino Di Savo.

There was someone he had never considered forgiving—it had been so far from his mind as to be deemed irrelevant.

It was more than relevant now.

Was Gino even his father?

Sixteen and pregnant in the valley would have been a shameful place to be.

Had the younger Gino been kinder?

Had he lived with the knowledge of constant infidelity?

Perhaps Raul would never know.

He understood the beatings more, though.

And maybe there were some respects to be paid.

‘Rest now,’ Raul said again, and he put the remaining lilies on Gino Di Savo’s grave.




CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘IT’S A VERY recent piece.’

The valuation manager had called in the director. And Lydia was starting to get a glimpse of just how valuable the statue was.

‘Three months,’ Lydia said, but they didn’t look over at her.

For the first morning in a very long time Lydia had held down some toast and decided it was time to be practical and deal with things.

Lydia had returned to the castle expecting anger and recrimination, and had been ready to get the hell out.

Instead she’d returned to her mother’s devastation.

It wasn’t only Lydia who hadn’t cried on her father’s death.

Valerie too had held it in, and finally the dam had broken.

‘I’m sorry!’ She had just slumped in a chair and cried. ‘I’ve told him he’s never to come back.’

Of all the hurts in Lydia’s heart, Maurice didn’t rank, and so instead of fighting back or getting out Lydia had done what Raul had done. She’d poured her mother a drink and stayed calm.

She’d been her practical self, in fact, and had put her own hurts aside.

Lydia pulled the castle as a wedding venue and then dealt as best as she could with what was.

There was no money and very little left to sell.

Last week she had suggested that Valerie go and spend some time with her sister.

Lydia needed to be alone.

She was pregnant.

But she did have her mother’s practical nature and had decided to find out what the statue was worth.

Not to save the castle.

Raul was right—it would require a constant infusion.

The proceeds of the sale of the statue might at least go towards a deposit on a house.

But then the valuation manager had called for the director and numbers had started to be discussed between the men.

Lydia realised she had far more than a deposit.

In fact she could buy a home.

It was worth that much and very possibly more.

She could provide for her baby and Raul didn’t even need to know.

‘Are you thinking of the New York auction?’ the manager was asking his senior.

‘That’s a few months off.’

He glanced over to Lydia and offered her an option.

‘I have several collectors who would be extremely interested—we could run a private auction. This piece is exquisite.’

And she loved it so.

It was just a piece of glass, Lydia told herself.

There was a reason she didn’t take photos—going over old memories hurt too much.

She would be better rid of it, Lydia knew, and yet it was the only thing she had ever loved.

Apart from Raul.

He wasn’t a thing—he was a person.

An utter bastard, in fact.

But the statue spoke of a different time, before it had all fallen apart, and Lydia could not stand the thought of letting it go.

Over and over she dissected each moment with him.

At every minute her mind was back there, peeping through the keyhole he had once shown her and seeing them.

Every moment was captured, and yet she had no photos, bar the one of them holding hands that was smeared all over the internet.

Apparently the great Raul did not usually stoop to holding hands, so the press had been interested.

She’d been telling him about her father then.

Confiding in him.

And he had been playing her all along.

All she had of him was this statue.

No, Lydia corrected, in six months’ time she would have his baby.

And Raul needed to know.

The director finally addressed her. ‘With your permission I’m going to make a few phone calls, and then perhaps we’ll be able to see more where we’re at.’

‘Of course,’ Lydia agreed.

And so must she make some calls.

Lydia was shown to a comfortable waiting room that was more like a lounge and offered tea.

‘No, thank you,’ Lydia said as she took a seat. ‘Could you please close the door?’

The door was closed and from her purse Lydia took out the business card he had given her.

It had been three months since Lydia had heard his voice.

The business card had had many outings, but always she’d bailed before completing his number.

Today Lydia held her breath as she was finally put through.

He didn’t answer.

It was just a recording—telling her to leave a message. ‘Lasciate un messagio...’

An anti-climax, really, and yet the sound of his voice had her folded over in the chair.

Not because of what she had to say to him, but because of what she wanted to.

That even while she was so terribly angry with him, it was the hurt of not seeing him, not hearing him, not touching him that refused to heal.

She didn’t know what to do.

How did you tell a man who would have a baby removed from a restaurant for crying that you were pregnant with his child?

Raul would think she was calling for money.

How could he not, given she had looked him in the eye and told him she was a gold-digger?

And a snob.

Oh, she had to play the part now. But she couldn’t and so rang off.

Straighten up, she told herself, and reminded herself of the terrible things he had done.

Raul had used her so badly.

He had sunk to such depraved lows and she must always remember that.

Always.

Panic was starting to build, but Lydia took a deep breath and told herself to be practical and deal with things.

So she straightened up in the chair and repeated the call.

‘Lasciate un messagio...’

‘Raul, this is Lydia.’

She refused to cheapen herself by giving him dates and further details. If Raul was such a playboy that he didn’t remember her, then she wasn’t going to make things easier for him.

‘I’m pregnant.’

She had said it too fast and too soon, Lydia knew that, but better that than to break down.

‘I’ve had a few weeks to get used to the idea, and I’m actually...’ She let out her first calm breath—maybe because she’d told him now...maybe because she was speaking the truth. ‘I’m fine with it. We’ll be fine. The baby and I, I mean.’

And she knew that had sounded too brusque.

‘What I’m trying to say is that I’m not calling for support, neither on an emotional nor financial front. We both know you don’t do the former, and I’ve had the statue valued and it covers the latter...’

Not quite.

Yes, no doubt she could squeeze him for half of his billions, but it was not the route she wanted to take. The thought of lawyers and acrimony, of whether or not he believed her, were the last things she wanted.

‘If you need to discuss things, then give me a call back.’

Lydia ended the call and sat staring at her phone for a very long time.

His reaction she could not fathom, and, for the first time since arriving back in England, Lydia felt grateful for the distance between them.

He knew now.




CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SHE WAS IN a holding pattern now of her own making.

Awaiting his response.

Once home, Lydia had replaced the statue by her bed.

She had decided that it was not for sale.

Some things were more important.

For now.

She did not want to be like her mother, holding on to a castle she could not afford to keep, but she was not going to rush into selling it.

Lydia checked her phone for the hundredth time, but of course it hadn’t rung.

So she checked her email to see if anyone had responded to her many job applications.

She’d had one interview at a museum, but there were four other applicants—no doubt all with qualifications.

And she had an interview next week to work at one of their rival wedding venues.

Joy.

Not.

The pregnancy would start to show soon.

Who would want to take her on then?

Lydia opened a window and leant out and looked over the land her mother’s family had owned for ever.

The hills to the left and the fields to the right had been sold off some time ago, but if she looked ahead it was still theirs—for now.

And she understood her mother a little better, for she knew it hurt so much to let go.