“Would you like your dinner sent up?” Pietro asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“Dinner,” Stefano repeated, then shook his head. “No, thanks, I don’t seem to have much of an appetite.” He walked toward the window, wanting the conversation to be over so he could escape.
“Will that be all for this evening, then?” Pietro inquired.
“Yes,” Stefano said evenly.
Stefano could hear his secretary hesitate. “Are you ill?”
Yes, his heart cried. “I’m fine.” More than anything, he wanted to be left alone.
“Good evening, then.”
“Good evening, my friend,” Stefano whispered, and rubbed a weary hand down his face. His secretary left the room and, after a few moments, Stefano sank into a chair and waited for the darkness of night to claim the room and his heart.
In the morning, the suite bustled with activity as the entourage that had arrived with him prepared for the flight to San Lorenzo that evening. Never had Stefano been more eager to be on his way. As soon as he departed Seattle, his heart was free to mend. While he remained in the city, his every thought centered upon Hope.
Pietro came to him around ten and it looked as if his friend hadn’t slept all night. He wondered what could be troubling his companion. In light of their recent differences, he didn’t feel he could pry.
Pietro’s eyes were bloodshot. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his secretary had been drinking. It happened rarely and generally when Pietro had something to celebrate. If he were happy it certainly didn’t show.
“The front desk phoned,” Pietro announced. “Apparently Doris Jordan and a few of her friends have asked to see you. Actually, it’s more of a demand.”
Stefano hesitated, unsure if he was up to a confrontation with that group. Generally he was amused by their antics, but it would take more than four romantics to entertain him this day.
“Should I have them sent away?”
Stefano hadn’t the heart for that. “No.” He would prefer to avoid a confrontation, but he found he couldn’t refuse the fearsome foursome. “Send them up,” he instructed reluctantly.
“I could meet with them, if you wish.” Pietro checked his watch. “Priscilla Rutherford will be arriving momentarily.”
The generosity of Pietro’s offer to deal with Hope’s mother surprised Stefano. “I’ll keep the time in mind,” he assured his secretary.
Within a matter of minutes four women marched into his suite as if they were looking to draw blood. Hope’s mother, who’d swooned when she’d learned she held the winning ticket, looked anything but fragile. Her eyes sparkled with outrage.
“We want to know what you’ve done to Hope.”
“Please sit down, ladies,” Stefano instructed.
“We’ll stand, thank you very much,” Doris announced righteously.
The footman arrived just then, carrying a silver tea service. Another followed with a display of delicate pastries. Both were set on the table. The two footmen stood back and folded their hands behind their backs.
“Perhaps we have time for tea,” the one Stefano remembered as Hazel said, tugging at Doris’s shirtsleeve.
“Aren’t those petits fours?” she asked as her voice dipped. “We might have been a bit hasty, don’t you think?”
“Since the prince has clearly gone to all this trouble, I think we should stay for tea,” one of the others whispered.
Stefano hadn’t the heart to tell them the tea had been arranged for Priscilla Rutherford.
“First answer me one thing, young man,” Doris said heatedly.
In all his life, Stefano couldn’t once remember being called “young man”. “Of course,” he said, as formally as he could, without smiling.
“I want to know why my daughter spent the entire night in tears. She wouldn’t say a word, but I know it has to do with you. What have you done to her? That poor girl’s suffering with a broken heart, and nothing you say can convince me otherwise. She won’t even speak to me—her own mother.”
“That’s not the only thing,” Hazel said, wagging her finger as if she were keeping time with the music. “We aren’t old fools, you know. Something’s been going on between the two of you ever since the night of your date.”
“I want to know about the scarf she claims she got from Elvis!” Doris demanded.
“Elvis?”
The four women broke into excited chatter all at once.
“Hope Jordan?” It was Pietro’s voice that cut through the prattle. His eyes linked with Stefano’s and he watched as his secretary seemed to put everything together in his mind.
“Ladies, ladies,” Pietro said, “I’m sorry to cut your visit so short, but the prince has an appointment in five minutes.”
“But the tea…” Hazel cast an appreciative eye toward the plateful of delectable pastries.
“I don’t think those were for us,” Doris said, under her breath.
There was a chorus of disappointed sighs.
“Whatever questions you have for the prince can be directed to me,” Pietro said. “If you’ll come to my office, perhaps we can sort all this out.”
Stefano shouldn’t have been so grateful to be rescued from painful explanations, but it was a sign of how battered and spent he felt.
A short ten minutes later, Priscilla Rutherford was escorted into the suite. Clearly there was some sort of malady that had affected everyone, because he couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone look more unhappy. She, too, had apparently spent the night pacing the floor. The circles around her eyes were dark, and even expertly applied cosmetics couldn’t hide the sadness he sensed in her.
“Please sit down,” he said gesturing toward the davenport.
She shook her head. “No, thank you. This will only take a moment.”
Stefano remained standing because she did. “Have I done something to offend you?” he asked, wondering at her strange mood.
She shook her head. He noticed the nervous way she rubbed her palms together. “I’ve spent a good portion of the time since we had brunch yesterday speaking to my parents. I’m afraid they’re rather upset with me at the moment, but they’ll recover.” She seemed to reach some kind of conclusion. “For that matter,” she added sadly, “ so will I.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you will.” All at once it seemed she needed to sit down because she slowly lowered herself into a chair.
“Priscilla, are you feeling all right?”
She smiled weakly. “If you want the truth, I’ve never felt worse.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
She looked down and shook her head. “I wish there was, but unfortunately there isn’t.”
He waited for several moments for her to speak, then prompted her. “You asked to see me?”
She nodded and slowly raised her eyes to his. “I think you’re probably the most attractive man I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t like the sound of this. Generally, such compliments were followed by words he found to his disliking.
“No man has ever paid me the attention you have. On a bright note, you’ve made my mother a happy woman. My father thinks you’re the best thing since sourdough bread and frankly, I don’t know if either one of my parents intends on speaking to me ever again.”
“What could you have done that’s so terrible?” Stefano pressed gently. Priscilla was as nervous as a filly, and he feared she’d burst into tears at any moment.
She folded her hands together as if she were about to pray. “I could see the handwriting on the wall,” she said, studying her fingers as though the script were written out for her there. “Mom and Dad were hearing wedding bells and I’m afraid the sound of them drowned out all reason.”
“How’s that?”
“You see, I like you and everything and…well, if we got to know each other a little better, we’d probably become good friends, but I don’t love you.”
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“Love is something that’s nurtured,” Stefano explained thoughtfully. “After the wedding, I feel we’d develop a deep friendship, in time.”
Priscilla’s eyes widened perceptively. “It’s true, then?” she whispered as though he’d somehow shocked her.
“What’s true?”
“That you were serious about…marrying me.”
He nodded. “My thoughts had been running along those lines.”
“My heavens.” She leapt to her feet and then just as quickly sat down again. “You see, I told my parents you had no such intentions.”
“All in good time, Priscilla. I didn’t intend to rush you.”
“But you see, I don’t want to marry you.”
Funny as it seemed, her reluctance to take him as a husband had never occurred to him. There could only be one reason. “There’s someone else?”
Her head bent lower, before she slowly raised her eyes to meet his. He saw in her a pain he hadn’t earlier, a pain that was a reflection of his own. “There was,” she admitted in a choked whisper. “But he doesn’t share my feelings.”
“The man is a fool.”
She was saved from explaining further by Pietro who abruptly stepped into the room. His gaze honed toward Priscilla as if drawn by a powerful magnet. For a breathless moment they stared at each other, and then as though by remote control, they both looked away.
“Excuse me,” Pietro murmured apologetically.
“You wanted to see me? “ Stefano asked.
“It can wait.” He left as hastily as he’d arrived.
Stefano watched his friend and then looked to Priscilla. She’d composed herself, but in that instant he knew the man the heiress loved, the one she wanted over him, was none other than his own secretary.
Chapter Nine
PRISCILLA WAS IN LOVE with Pietro. Stefano couldn’t believe that he could have been so obtuse. The evidence was all there for him to see. Poor Pietro. No wonder his secretary had been surly and short-tempered of late. Pietro had been caught between loyalty and friendship, trapped in a no-win proposition. If Stefano hadn’t been so blinded by his love for Hope, he might have been able to help them both.
Priscilla studied him, and Stefano realized he was staring at the door, after his secretary. “I appreciate your honesty,” he said thoughtfully, his mind working hard and fast. “Would you excuse me a moment?”
“Of course.”
“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back momentarily.”
Stefa¤o made a hasty exit and went in search of Pietro. He found his companion in his office. “You wanted to see me?” Stefano asked.
“Has Miss Rutherford left?” It seemed Pietro’s gaze bore straight through him, as if he were holding himself in tight resolve until he could be certain Priscilla had gone.
“She’s waiting for me,” Stefano announced and plopped himself down on the chair. “We have a problem,” he announced as though the weight of this latest development were more than he could bear.
“A problem with Priscilla?”
“Yes,” Stefano confirmed. “She’s afraid her family is going to manipulate her into marrying me. This is the reason for her visit. She’s come to explain that, although she thinks highly of me, she’d rather not be my wife. Can you believe that! The woman has no idea she’s ruined our plans.”
Pietro’s frown deepened.
“To complicate matters, she claims she’s in love with someone else—or so she says. I pried, but she wouldn’t talk about him. But from what little she did tell me, she cares deeply for this other man. The cad!”
Pietro ignored the last remark. “I’m sure that in time Miss Rutherford’s feelings will change. She’ll grow to love you.”
“We don’t have the time to wait around to be sure that happens.” Keeping a straight face was becoming something of a chore, but Stefano managed. “The situation is grave—you know that as well as I do.”
“True.” Pietro shifted uneasily in his chair.
“It’s clear to me that her parents are keen on the idea of their daughter becoming my princess.”
“They wouldn’t object to a union between the two of you,” his secretary agreed stoically.
“My thoughts precisely.” Prince Stefano beamed his friend a wide grin. “That’s why I believe there’s only one solution to all this.” He gestured with his hands, expressing his exasperation with the whole business. “We’re going to need to kidnap her, and force her into marrying me.”
“What!” Pietro vaulted to his feet. “You can’t be serious.”
“We don’t have any choice. Priscilla assured me she’s in love with someone else, but when I pressed her, she admitted that this other man didn’t return her feelings. That being the case, we really can’t allow her to throw her life away.”
“Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?”
“I thought that at first, but the longer we talked, the more I realized how serious she is. Priscilla’s prepared to wait for this…scoundrel to come to his senses, and if he doesn’t, then well, she never intends to marry.”
“She told you that?” Pietro’s frown was dark and brooding.
“Why else would I be telling you this?”
His secretary wiped his hand over his eyes in a gesture of fatigue. “You can’t be serious about kidnapping Priscilla.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” the prince returned flippantly.
Pietro’s fists knotted at his sides. “I won’t allow it.”
Stefano arched his brows in fabricated shock. “Not allow it?” he repeated slowly.
“There are laws against such matters.”
“Fiddlesticks. After a month or two, Priscilla will have forgotten about the man she thinks she loves. She’ll be grateful that I had the foresight to arrange our wedding. Given the circumstances, I believe her family will fully cooperate with the idea.” He paused and waited for Pietro’s reaction.
“I want no part of this.”
“Oh, I wasn’t asking you to collaborate. I was just bouncing the idea off you.”
His gaze focused away from Stefano. “This is by far the most outrageous thing you’ve ever suggested. Are you foolish enough to believe she’ll forgive you for something so underhanded?”
“It won’t matter if she forgives me or not. We both know this isn’t a love match. I need her money, not her.” He made his voice as frigid and calculating as possible.
Pietro’s eyes narrowed to points of steel. “You’re a coldhearted son of a—” He stopped himself in time to keep from swearing.
Stefano pretended to be shocked. “Why should you care? From what you claimed, your resignation will be in effect as soon as we return to San Lorenzo. You won’t be around to witness any of this.”
“I care,” Pietro snapped.
“Apparently not enough,” Stefano returned casually. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs.
“I was the one who chose Priscilla. You don’t seriously believe I’d sit back and allow you to follow through with this preposterous idea of yours, do you?”
“Frankly, Pietro, I don’t understand your objection.”
“It doesn’t matter if you understand it or not. I refuse to allow you to abuse Priscilla. She’s warm and loving. Heaven knows she deserves better than to be treated like an object with no feelings, no heart.”
The angry words fell into the silence. This was what Stefano had been waiting to hear, what he’d been waiting for his friend to admit. “Isn’t that what you were planning to do?” he asked starkly. “Abandon her to a loveless marriage?”
Pietro glared at him as if he didn’t understand.
“It’s you she loves, you fool, not me,” Stefano said smoothly. “And, no, she didn’t tell me. She didn’t need to. I saw the way the two of you looked at each other just now. The woman’s crazy about you, Pietro, and any fool could see you feel the same way about her.”
“But-”
“I believe we
’ve already been through this argument,” Stefano cut in. “She has no intention of ever marrying me. I believe she said she’d like to consider me a friend.”
Pietro said nothing for several seconds, then slowly lowered himself back into the chair. “I apologize, Stefano. When I realized Priscilla was attracted to me, I did what I could to discourage her.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s more clear to me than ever that the two of you are far better suited than Priscilla and I would ever be. You’ll make her a much better husband. A woman deserves a man who deeply loves her. Don’t you agree?”
It took Pietro a long time to answer. “What about you?”
Stefano laughed softly. “The only thing that’s injured is my ego, and that was only dented. I’ll manage, and so will San Lorenzo, at least for now.”
Something would need to be done to secure his country’s finances, but he didn’t want to think about that. Somehow he’d find a way to manage. His country had survived seven hundred years of war and plague. A little thing like financial ruin didn’t seem so daunting. He’d survive without Hope, just as his country would survive without Priscilla Rutherford’s money.
Priscilla shifted her weight in the chair and glanced at her watch. Stefano had already been gone several minutes, and she wasn’t keen on waiting much longer. Everything she’d come to say had already been said. She hoped she hadn’t hurt the prince’s feelings, and frankly she wasn’t willing to argue. She wouldn’t marry him, or anyone, to gain her parents’ approval.
The door opened from behind her just when she’d decided the best course of action was for her to silently slip away, and hope no one noticed.
“Priscilla.”
It was Pietro, and the sound of his voice, saying her name in that special way of his, was enough to cause her heart to painfully constrict.
She stood and braced herself, knowing she’d need to be strong. “Hello, Pietro. Where’s the prince?”
“Please sit down.”
“Is the prince coming?” She looked behind him, thinking it would be much easier to maintain her composure with Stefano in the room. Otherwise, she feared she’d do something to make an even greater fool of herself than she had already.