Stepping into the Prince's World by Marion Lennox Page B

shock. She could be excused for making food her priority.
    But the question hung. ‘Why were you here in the first place?’
    It wasn’t his business, she thought. But a tiny voice in the back of her mind said, Why not tell him? Why not say it like it is?
    She hadn’t told anyone. She’d simply fled.
    â€˜I’ve been accused of fraud,’ she said.
    He said nothing.
    So what had she expected? Fireworks? Shock? Horror? At least a token of dismay? Instead he concentrated on his second piece of steak as if it was the most important thing in the world. And, because there was nothing else to do, she focused on her food, too. She ate a few more chips and her world settled a little and she felt better.
    Lighter.
    It was as if the elephant was in the room, but at least it was no longer inside her.
    â€˜It couldn’t have been a very big fraud,’ he said at last, eying the near empty bowl of chips with due consideration.
    â€˜What? Why?’
    â€˜You’re not in jail and you’ve taken a job as a caretaker in one of the most inhospitable places on the earth. This might be a great house, but you’re not living in luxury. So it was either a very small fraud or you’ve cleverly stacked what you’ve defrauded away so you can be a billionaire in your old age.’
    â€˜I could have paid it back.’
    â€˜I suspect if you’d paid it back you wouldn’t be on this island. Do you want to tell me about it?’
    No , she thought. And then she thought, Okay, the elephant’s out. But it was still a very big elephant. Regardless of how trivial this guy made it sound.
    â€˜It was big,’ she told him. ‘Something like seven million Australian dollars.’
    He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Ma’am, if you’re hiding that kind of cash you shouldn’t let strange men rifle through your knicker drawer.’
    And she chuckled. She couldn’t help herself.
    She laughed, and then she thought, That’s the first time I’ve laughed since...since...
    She couldn’t remember.
    â€˜I didn’t do it,’ she said, and her desire to laugh died. Her thoughts went back to that last day, standing in her boss’s office, white with shock. I didn’t do it.
    He hadn’t believed her. Why would he?
    â€˜So?’ Raoul said encouragingly. ‘I believe you. You didn’t do it, so...the butler?’
    She choked again, and he smiled and took another chip and handed it across the table to her.
    She took it and ate it, and he kept smiling at her, and his smile was doing something to her insides...
    â€˜That’s it,’ he told her. ‘Nice, greasy carbohydrates. Best thing in the world for trauma. Like telling me all about the butler. Jam doughnuts would be better, but for now we’re stuck with chips. If not the butler, who?’
    â€˜Felicity,’ she whispered, and he nodded.
    â€˜Of course. I should have guessed. I was lacking a few clues, though. So tell me about Felicity.’
    â€˜She’s perfect.’
    â€˜You mean she probably has the seven million?’
    â€˜I guess.’
    â€˜Yep, she’s perfect, then. Pretty, too, I’ll bet.’
    And Claire thought of pretty, perfect Felicity and found it hard not to start shaking. But suddenly Raoul’s hand was over hers—big, comforting, warm. Joking was put aside.
    â€˜Tell me,’ he said, and so she did.
    From the beginning. All of it.
    Of the tiny town where she was raised, of her single mum, of being treated like trash. Of her mum’s death when she was fifteen. Of the scholarship and her determination to get out. Of law school and commerce, a double degree. Of academic brilliance and sheer hard work.
    Once she’d graduated she’d taken a job in Legal Assistance. It had been a great organisation—helping the underprivileged with legal advice and representation when they couldn’t afford it. She’d