The older woman sat behind her desk, folded her hands, and sat looking at Constance for what seemed like forever. Finally, she asked, “How have you been doing?”
Constance blinked, taken aback for a second. She’d been brought in so they could ask her how she was?
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Reverend Mother’s lips pursed and she looked over the rim of her glasses at Constance. “Mrs. Ballas tells me you don’t leave the house unless you must. And that you’ve changed in other ways.”
Mrs. Ballas needed to keep her mouth shut.
“I haven’t noticed that I stay at home any more than usual, or that I’ve changed.”
Reverend Mother did that over-the-rim look again. “Come, child. You are pale, and look as though you don’t sleep well, and the laughter is gone from your eyes. You have lost your joy, I think.”
Constance opened her mouth to protest that but was horrified to find tears flooding her eyes instead.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong.”
“Why is it wrong?”
Constance frowned. “Because he…he and I…our relationship…” She took a deep breath and decided to just come clean. It made no difference now anyway.
“Everything about our relationship was a lie. Our engagement was a sham, a publicity stunt for him to get back into his father’s good graces, and for me to get back into yours after the girls trespassed on his property while under my care. And then, well, then those pictures…”
Her blood pulsed through her cheeks, setting her face on fire.
“Yes,” the Reverend Mother said drily. “Those were unfortunate, I’ll grant you that.”
Constance kept the sarcastic remark that popped into her head to herself.
“However,” she continued. “I saw something in the other pictures taken of you before that incident that I found to be more interesting.”
Constance frowned. “The other pictures?”
The Reverend Mother placed several magazines on the desk and pushed them toward her. A new wave of pain washed over her and Constance bit her lip to keep from crying out. She hadn’t even known some of those pictures had been taken. There was one of her and Luca at a restaurant, holding hands and laughing. One of them walking along a sidewalk, smiling at each other. The ones that really struck her hard were the ones of their last day on the beach with the girls.
Luca with his arms around her waist from behind, his cheek caressing her upturned face.
Luca watching as she cradled and rocked Elena, a look of such tenderness on his face that Constance’s throat grew tight. She hadn’t even known he’d been watching.
Luca with a look of gentle wonderment cradling Elena while she slept.
“You know what I don’t see here?” the Reverend Mother asked.
Constance looked up and shook her head, afraid if she spoke, she’d cry.
“I don’t see a sham relationship.”
Constance’s mouth dropped open. She wanted to protest, insist that it hadn’t been real, but it had felt real. Everything about it, almost from the first moment, had felt real.
“I see two people who love each other and who love that little girl. He might have said the photos were for publicity, but this,” she said, pointing at a close-up of Luca’s face as he gazed into hers, “this isn’t imitation. He’s not that good an actor.”
That surprised a laugh out of Constance.
“And neither are you, my dear.”
Constance took a deep breath and ducked her head, unable to look the other woman in the eye when she said, “I’m not. I do love him.”
A triumphant sigh came from the Reverend Mother. “I thought so.”
“But that doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“How can I ever trust him? He has this weird love-hate relationship with the press. He hates them, but he can’t stay away. It’s like he’s driven to act in a way that will keep him in the spotlight. I can’t live like that. I can’t subject the girls to that. I don’t want to be used to keep him in the papers. I don’t want any part of that, and if it came down to his fame or me…well, I’ve already seen what he’ll choose.”
“Have you? What did he say when those pictures came out?”
Constance took a deep breath and blew it out. She’d shied away from any thought of that day in his office. “He said it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t know how they’d found us.”
“And you didn’t believe him?”
She thought about it, had been thinking about it since she’d walked out his door. “I don’t know. My gut says no, he wouldn’t do that. He’d do a lot…but he wouldn’t have let photographers be there for something so private.”