of everything? It almost defies belief. Almost,' he added quietly, 'but not quite. And it explains a great deal.'
He paused. 'I understand from the signora, your mother, that your father is at his office. Perhaps he could be fetched. I do not think that she should be alone.'
Polly shook herself into action. 'Yes—yes, I'll telephone him. And her doctor...' She went out into the hall, standing helplessly for a moment as she tried to remember the number. Realising her mind was a blank.
Sandro followed, closing the door of the living room behind him.
She didn't look at him, doggedly turning the leaves of the directory. 'What—what will happen now?'
'The legal process will begin. But for tonight you may take Carlie to sleep at your appartamento.'
"Thank you,' she said with irony.
"The bambinaia, whose name is Julie Cole, will accompany you to put him to bed,' he went on, as if she hadn't spoken. 'Then she will return in the morning at seven o'clock to take care of him.'
He spoke as if he was conducting a board meeting, Polly thought incredulously, rather than trying to destroy her life.
She said, 'We could all stay here, perhaps. There's—plenty of room.'
'No,' he said. 'This is not an environment I want for my son.'
Why? she wanted to cry. Because it's an ordinary suburban house rather than a palace. Just as I was an ordinary girl, and therefore not deemed as a suitable candidate to become your marchesa.
She could see now why it had been so important to pay her off, in order to get rid of her. There was too much at stake dynastically to allow a mistake like herself to enter the equation.
The old pain was back like a knife twisting inside her. A pain that her pride forbade her to let him see. So she would never ask the question 'Why did you leave me?' because she now knew the answer to that, beyond all doubt.
Besides, it would expose the fact that she cared, and that he still had the power to hurt her. And she needed that to remain her secret, and her solitary torment.
Besides, at the moment she was faced with all the suffering she could handle.
Unless she could divert him from his purpose somehow, she thought. Unless...
She picked up the phone irresolutely, then put it down again. She said quickly, before her courage ran out, 'Sandro, it doesn't have to be like this. Surely we could work something out. Share custody in some way.'
His mouth thinned. 'I am expected to trust you? When you have deliberately kept our child from me and even claimed to have a lover to sustain the deception? How much do you think your word is worth?'
Polly swallowed. 'I don't blame you for being angry.'
'Grazie.' His tone was sardonic.
'And maybe doing my best to be Charlie's mother hasn't been good enough,' she went on, bravely. 'But he doesn't know you at all, and if he was just whisked off to another country among strangers, however well-meaning, he'd be disorientated—scared. He—he's shy with people at first.'
'A trait he shares with you, mia bella, if memory serves,' Sandro drawled with cool mockery.
She remembered too. Recalled how gentle and considerate he had been that first time in bed together. How he'd coaxed her out of her clothes and her initial inhibitions.
She flushed hotly and angrily. 'May we cut out the personal reminiscences?' she requested curtly.
He shrugged. 'It is difficult to see how. Making a child together is an intensely personal matter.' He paused. 'And by the time I take Carlino to Italy, we will be well acquainted with each other. I guarantee that. And my own old nurse, Dorotea, will be waiting to look after him. The transition will not be too hard.'
But it will be agony for me, she thought, her throat tightening convulsively. First I lost you, and now you're trying to take Charlie away. And already I feel as if I'm dying inside.
She said tonelessly, 'I'd better make those calls.'
He inclined his head courteously, and went past her, and out into the
He paused. 'I understand from the signora, your mother, that your father is at his office. Perhaps he could be fetched. I do not think that she should be alone.'
Polly shook herself into action. 'Yes—yes, I'll telephone him. And her doctor...' She went out into the hall, standing helplessly for a moment as she tried to remember the number. Realising her mind was a blank.
Sandro followed, closing the door of the living room behind him.
She didn't look at him, doggedly turning the leaves of the directory. 'What—what will happen now?'
'The legal process will begin. But for tonight you may take Carlie to sleep at your appartamento.'
"Thank you,' she said with irony.
"The bambinaia, whose name is Julie Cole, will accompany you to put him to bed,' he went on, as if she hadn't spoken. 'Then she will return in the morning at seven o'clock to take care of him.'
He spoke as if he was conducting a board meeting, Polly thought incredulously, rather than trying to destroy her life.
She said, 'We could all stay here, perhaps. There's—plenty of room.'
'No,' he said. 'This is not an environment I want for my son.'
Why? she wanted to cry. Because it's an ordinary suburban house rather than a palace. Just as I was an ordinary girl, and therefore not deemed as a suitable candidate to become your marchesa.
She could see now why it had been so important to pay her off, in order to get rid of her. There was too much at stake dynastically to allow a mistake like herself to enter the equation.
The old pain was back like a knife twisting inside her. A pain that her pride forbade her to let him see. So she would never ask the question 'Why did you leave me?' because she now knew the answer to that, beyond all doubt.
Besides, it would expose the fact that she cared, and that he still had the power to hurt her. And she needed that to remain her secret, and her solitary torment.
Besides, at the moment she was faced with all the suffering she could handle.
Unless she could divert him from his purpose somehow, she thought. Unless...
She picked up the phone irresolutely, then put it down again. She said quickly, before her courage ran out, 'Sandro, it doesn't have to be like this. Surely we could work something out. Share custody in some way.'
His mouth thinned. 'I am expected to trust you? When you have deliberately kept our child from me and even claimed to have a lover to sustain the deception? How much do you think your word is worth?'
Polly swallowed. 'I don't blame you for being angry.'
'Grazie.' His tone was sardonic.
'And maybe doing my best to be Charlie's mother hasn't been good enough,' she went on, bravely. 'But he doesn't know you at all, and if he was just whisked off to another country among strangers, however well-meaning, he'd be disorientated—scared. He—he's shy with people at first.'
'A trait he shares with you, mia bella, if memory serves,' Sandro drawled with cool mockery.
She remembered too. Recalled how gentle and considerate he had been that first time in bed together. How he'd coaxed her out of her clothes and her initial inhibitions.
She flushed hotly and angrily. 'May we cut out the personal reminiscences?' she requested curtly.
He shrugged. 'It is difficult to see how. Making a child together is an intensely personal matter.' He paused. 'And by the time I take Carlino to Italy, we will be well acquainted with each other. I guarantee that. And my own old nurse, Dorotea, will be waiting to look after him. The transition will not be too hard.'
But it will be agony for me, she thought, her throat tightening convulsively. First I lost you, and now you're trying to take Charlie away. And already I feel as if I'm dying inside.
She said tonelessly, 'I'd better make those calls.'
He inclined his head courteously, and went past her, and out into the
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