The Italian’s Rightful Bride by Lucy Gordon

tipsy.’
    â€˜You won’t. I remember what a good head you always had.’
    She gave a crack of laughter. ‘What a thing to be remembered for!’
    â€˜I remember everything,’ he said quietly. ‘Everything. Don’t you?’

CHAPTER FOUR
    D ID she remember everything? she wondered. What about the things she’d tried so hard to blot out?
    â€˜Yes, I suppose I do,’ she said.
    â€˜One thing that always puzzled me is why you ever let yourself be part of that merry-go-round.’
    â€˜Blame Aunt Lilian,’ she said. ‘She really belonged in the nineteenth century, when things were done that way. I suppose I just got on board and didn’t know how to get off.’
    â€˜Until the last moment, when you jumped off in a panic. Forgive me, Joanna. I never realised that you were being forced.’
    â€˜It wasn’t quite like that,’ she said quickly.
    â€˜I wish I knew exactly how it was. After we broke up I wanted to talk to you before the wedding, but I didn’t know what to say.’
    â€˜There was nothing. It had all been said.’
    â€˜Had it?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘Or could it never be said?’
    â€˜Both, of course. Look—’ she set her glass down, leaned forward and gripped his hands ‘—what’s the point of being wise all these years later? It’s over. It happened. We’re different people now.’
    He nodded. ‘It’s strange. I once knew you so well, and now I know nothing about you.’
    You’re mistaken, she thought. You never knew the most important thing about me.
    â€˜I’m glad you married,’ he said. ‘I hope you had some good years before your divorce. You deserve the best.’
    â€˜That’s nice of you.’
    â€˜I’m not just saying it. I still remember your generosity. If you only knew how much I admired you at that time. You were strong and I was—’ he shrugged ‘—I just had to put myself in your hands.’
    â€˜And you hated that,’ she said wryly.
    â€˜Now you make me sound churlish. But a man doesn’t like to think of himself as hiding behind a woman’s skirts like a weakling.’
    â€˜Does it make you a weakling to accept help? I was simply better placed to do the talking. Besides, isn’t love supposed to make strong men weak? And heaven knows, you were madly in love with Crystal.’
    â€˜Yes,’ he said solemnly.
    She waited to see if he would say more, but a heaviness seemed to have come down on him.
    She sat on the stone railing, raising one leg to rest her arm against the knee, and looked out over the scene.
    Looking at her confused him. She was Joanna and yet not Joanna. The girl of long ago was still there, but only as a faint ghost. The woman of today had a glamour and confidence that girl had never dreamed of.
    He’d watched her over dinner, fascinated by the way she had turned into a beauty, her light tan emphasising her large grey eyes and making her smile flash.
    But it was more than that, more than the silk and velvet of her clothes or the real gold in her ears. She had made a success of her life, donning authority like a cloak and walking through the world with a superior air.
    They called her ‘Boss!’ and it was only half a joke. She had earned the title, not inherited it. He felt at a disadvantage, and that brought a memory back.
    â€˜Do you remember the night you came out here before?’ he asked.
    â€˜Maybe,’ she said dreamily.
    â€˜I saw you here, sitting just where you are now, and I wanted to come and talk to you but you seemed so absorbed in your own world that I couldn’t bear to disturb you.’
    â€˜Oh,’ she said softly.
    â€˜I did come out in the end—but it was all wrong.’
    â€˜I remember that we didn’t say much.’
    â€˜I had an odd feeling that you wanted to tell me something, but you never did, so I