‘I REALLY don’t understand why you have to have those other documents right away,’ Ricardo said, frowning. It was five o’clock. Even though it was summer, he didn’t want to fly out too late.
‘Look, I’m sorry, old chap,’ Ludo said apologetically. ‘It’s these damn new EU regulations. Why don’t you stay the night? I’ll have all the papers faxed in by tomorrow morning, and we can go over them and sign then.’
‘I really wanted to get back to my wife,’ Ricardo said reluctantly. ‘But I suppose there’s nothing for it but to do that.’
‘Mmm.’ Ludo, a good-looking chestnut-haired man in his mid-thirties, eyed him carefully. ‘How about dinner tonight?’
‘Why not? I’ve nothing else on the agenda. What shall we say? Eight-thirty at Mark’s?’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Ludo replied, raising his palms and getting up. ‘See you later, old chap.’
Ricardo followed suit. ‘Yes. See you later.’
The Rolls drove him to Cadogan Square, where he owned a house fully staffed all year round. A secretary had phoned from Ludo’s office, so he was expected. It was almost six o’clock. Ricardo went upstairs into a large suite of rooms and was preparing to take a shower when his cellphone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello. It’s me—Ambrosia. Are you on your way home?’
‘Actually, no. I’m spending the night here in London.’
‘Really? Well, then, you’d better stay true to your promise.’
‘What was that?’ He frowned abstractedly and pulled off his tie.
‘We agreed that if you stayed in town you’d take me to dinner—remember?’
‘Damn, cara, you’re right. I forgot. It was an unexpected last-minute decision. I’ve made dinner arrangements with Ludo, but I suppose there is no reason why you shouldn’t join us. We’ve dealt with business for the day.’
‘I’d love to. Where and when?’
‘I’ll come round and pick you up a little before eight, if that suits you?’
‘Fine. See you then.’
And it did suit her. Ambrosia hung up, rubbing her hands with glee. Finally chance had played into her hands. And she had Ludo to thank, she reminded herself. She owed him one. He had acted brilliantly. And now the evening was set up in such a way that she would recover her former lover with no problem.
What was keeping him? Gabriella wondered as she sat in the sitting room waiting for Constanza and Wilhelm to appear for drinks. It was after seven o’clock—six in England—and there was still no sign of Ricardo. Just as she was beginning to worry her cellphone rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Gabriella, cara mia.’
She swallowed at the endearment. ‘Hello. How was your day?’
‘Fine. Except we didn’t finish all the business we had planned, and I’m going to have to stay the night and come home tomorrow afternoon, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh.’ She felt a wave of disappointment engulf her, but pulled herself together. ‘Well, that’s fine.’
‘I’m sorry, but this is such an important project for Maldoravia—I can’t let it flounder.’
‘Of course not. Everything’s fine here,’ she lied, wishing she could forget the morning sickness that had overtaken her that day, and all that it signified.
‘Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. You are feeling better, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m doing much better.’
‘Good. Then sleep well, cara mia, and see you tomorrow.’
‘Goodnight,’ she whispered, letting out a shaky sigh and wishing that she didn’t have to lie to him the whole time, that everything could be easy and straightforward and simple.
Which it wasn’t.
‘I do adore this egg with caviar,’ Ambrosia cooed as they sat at Mark’s, ensconced together at their table. The head waiter had just told them that Ludo had sent a message saying he would be running rather late and to begin dinner without him.
‘Typical,’ Ricardo said, shaking his head and admiring Ambrosia’s perfect profile and the ruby and diamond earrings she was wearing. They were Cartier. He knew. He’d given them to her not that long ago.
‘So, tell me, Ricky darling, how is wedded life suiting you?’ she said, turning slightly and smiling, all understanding and interest.
‘Well, it’s not as simple as I thought it would be. Gabriella is young and needs help finding her feet. Also she had an accident. She’s recovering at my sister’s in Austria.’
‘Poor child,’ she murmured. ‘What happened?’
‘Oh, nothing much. She fell off a motorbike.’
‘A motorbike?’ Ambrosia raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘Why, I never thought you’d allow your wife to go out on a motorbike, Ricky darling. I’m most surprised.’
‘Well, actually, I didn’t. I wasn’t there.’
‘Then who was the driver?’
‘Ruddy Hofstetten,’ he said reluctantly.
‘You don’t say?’ Ambrosia leaned back against the sofa and watched him thoughtfully. He was scowling. Something must definitely have been going on between Gabriella and young Hofstetten for him to look so glum. Wouldn’t that be a perfect piece of gossip for the scandalmongers? she reflected, wondering how she could use it to her advantage. ‘Is she all right after the fall?’ she asked, assuming an expression of deep concern.
‘Yes. Yes, she is. Though she seems to be taking longer to get well than I thought she would. She looks pale and is rather tired.’
‘Poor girl,’ she said in a sympathetic voice. ‘It can’t be much fun for you, I imagine?’
‘No. I worry about her. It’s weird. A few months ago I was free as a bird, and now I seem to have all these responsibilities.’
‘Well, you chose them, darling,’ she said, letting her fingers slip over his and squeezing his hand. ‘But why don’t you forget about all that for tonight and we can enjoy ourselves? Let’s go to Annabel’s afterwards and dance. I love dancing with you, Ricky. I miss it. In fact, I miss a lot of things that we used to do rather well together,’ she purred, lifting her glass by the stem and raising it conspiratorially.
Ricardo smiled and his eyes twinkled. ‘We did have good times together, Ambro, didn’t we?’
‘Did?’ She arched a brow and smiled suggestively.
‘Well, I’m a married man now.’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’ she insisted, meeting his eyes full on. ‘You know I knew you’d never marry me, Ricky, that one day this would have to happen. After all, you need a son and heir. But I never thought it would affect our relationship in the bigger scheme of things.’
‘That’s very broad-minded of you, Ambro,’ he said, twirling his glass and looking at his watch. ‘I wonder where Ludo has got to?’
‘Oh, he’s probably been held up. But, darling—about us. We’re not children. You and I have been around the block a few times. We know the name of the game. Now, why don’t we stop pretending that you and I are passé and have a relaxing night to catch up? On second thoughts, I think I’d rather go straight home than out dancing.’ She let her other hand slide under the table and onto his thigh, feeling the tension in his muscles. Surreptitiously she glanced at her watch. Jerry, the tabloid photographer she often gave tips to, and whom she’d phoned earlier in the evening, must be ready outside, waiting for their exit. ‘I think we should just sign the bill and go,’ she murmured.
‘Okay. One drink at your place, then I must be off home.’ He smiled at her and beckoned the waiter.
‘Of course. I’ll dash to the loo and meet you in the hall.’
‘Fine.’
Several minutes later they were exiting the club. The Rolls drew up and Ambrosia took Ricky’s arm. ‘Look,’ she said bringing her face close to his. ‘Look how lovely the moon is tonight. It reminds me of that song—remember?—the one we always used to listen to in Sardinia?’
‘I remember.’ He turned and looked down at her. At that moment she raised her lips to his, planting a quick kiss there and praying that Jerry had got the shot. She hadn’t seen any flashbulbs, but then she’d told him to be ultra-discreet.
Ten minutes later they were driving up to the Chelsea townhouse where Ambrosia lived. On the steps she took her key out and giggled. ‘Just like old times, isn’t it? What have you done with all your security? I didn’t see them about.’
‘They’re here somewhere, I suppose. Just being discreet—thank God.’
‘Well, don’t let’s dawdle here,’ she said, pulling him inside. ‘God, it’s good to have you back here, Ricky. The place hasn’t been the same without you.’ She slipped her arms around his neck and drew him towards her.
‘Ambro, I said a drink, for old time’s sake, and I meant it,’ he said, disengaging himself.
‘Oh, pooh—don’t be so priggish. What man doesn’t have a mistress, I ask you?’
‘That’s not the point. I feel responsible towards Gabriella. We’re just beginning to get our relationship on its feet.’
‘Well, she’s hardly going to imagine you’re here with me, is she?’ she argued reasonably.
‘No. But that doesn’t make it any better.’
‘You know, I never imagined you as a goody-goody,’ she exclaimed, annoyed at his reluctance. ‘What on earth can it matter that you’re here and that we’re going to make love?’
‘We are not going to make love, Ambro. I thought I’d made that quite plain.’
‘She’s only your wife, for God’s sake. Can’t you get her pregnant? That way she’ll be busy with her babies and won’t bother us.’
‘Life isn’t quite as simple as that,’ he murmured, distancing himself and moving towards the fireplace. ‘There’s more to marriage than I had imagined.’
Ambrosia watched him, taken aback. This wasn’t going quite as she had planned.
‘Well, forget it. Just for tonight. A goodbye send-off, if you will,’ she purred, moving next to him and drawing his mouth down to hers. But Ricardo moved firmly away.
‘I said no, Ambro, and I meant it. And now I really must be off.’
Red anger blinded her. It was too humiliating for words, too lowering for her to bear. He had come here, kissed her, and then, almost as if he were bored, had looked at his watch and said he had to go home. She would not forgive him lightly.
After he left Ambrosia stood with her back against the closed front door, nursing her fury. She hadn’t had Jerry take pictures for any specific reason—more as a safeguard for the future. But now as her anger seethed she knew exactly what she would do. Marching to the telephone, she dialled.
‘Jerry? Hi. Did you get the shots?’
‘Beauts, darlin’, real beauts. Got the kiss and the works. Boy, these will sell for a bloody fortune.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear you say that,’ she replied, her voice laced with venom, ‘because I’d like you to sell them with a story, to as many tabloids as you can get your busy little hands on.’
‘Really, love? When?’
‘How about right now? Come over and I’ll write up the text for you. If we’re quick we may just make tomorrow’s papers.’
‘You got it, babe. I’ll be there in twenty.’
‘Perfect, Jerry. I’ll be waiting.’
The next morning dawned rainy again, and Gabriella glanced out of the window, wishing she could see a few palms, sun and sea. Then, as she was about to turn around and have another sleep, a sudden rush of nausea had her stumbling to the bathroom. Oh, God. How long would this last? It made her feel so terrible.
After half an hour she lay back in bed and decided to ask for breakfast here in her room rather than go down. Constanza was going into town this morning early—had probably already left with the children—and Wilhelm was in Munich. The weird thing was, she realised, after calling downstairs and giving instructions, after the nausea passed she felt positively hungry.
Several minutes later a knock on the door announced the maid, carrying a large tray with the breakfast and the papers. The girl, Inge, smiled and said, ‘Guten morgen.’ She spoke no English, so communication was limited.
Once the tray was safely installed on her knees and Inge had disappeared, Gabriella poured herself a cup of coffee before drinking her orange juice. There were several papers, and she placed them beside her on the bed. The family bought English papers—Constanza said she loved the gossip that came in many of them.
After eating a piece of toast and a boiled egg, Gabriella settled in for a comfortable morning relaxing and reading while sipping her coffee. She flipped over the papers and picked up the first one, then paled as she saw the picture splashed on the front page and the headlines.
‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered, her eyes filling with angry tears as she read, unbelieving, the words above a picture of a woman and a man whom she recognised only too well kissing in the moonlight.
Moonlight Escapade for Just-Wed Prince, the headline read. But worse was to come when she read the text, for in it were details—not all correct—of her biking accident. It even mentioned Ruddy, and implied that she was having an affair with him. How could this be? Who could have done this? And there was Ricardo, on the front page of the paper, kissing Ambrosia for all the world to see.
All her worst nightmares had become reality, Gabriella realised, her hands trembling as she discovered more pictures inside, and in another publication. All her fears were well-founded. Thank God she hadn’t told him about the baby—hadn’t risked her future with this man who was proving to be all she’d expected. The dream that one day they might have a real marriage had been nothing but that: a dream.
Pushing away the tray and pulling back the bed-clothes, Gabriella got up. She ran into the bathroom, tears of anger pouring down her cheeks. But she was determined to be in control.
And out of here before he returned.
With this goal in mind she quickly entered the shower. Twenty minutes later she was dressed and packed. And ready to make a new life away from Prince Ricardo of Maldoravia, whom she hoped she’d never set eyes on again.