Page 109 of Duty and Desire

Your father.

My throat tightened. “Why did he never say any of this?” Every word of the letter revealed a man I had never known, a man whose disapproval was apparently not as rigid as I had believed.

Gio put his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him. The tears I should have shed at his funeral chose this moment to prick my eyes and trickle down my cheeks, soaking into Gio’s shirt.

“You told yourself you didn’t need him, didn’t you?” His voice was gentle, soothing. “But I think one need remained—you wanted his approval, whether you can admit that or not.” He raised my chin with his fingers. “If this letter teaches you anything, I hope it’s that you should confront the past, rather than run from it.”

I buried my face in his shirt, breathing in the scent of cotton and Gio’s warm, earthy smell. We stayed that way for a minute or two,and I was content to bathe in the silence, to inhale the lingering fragrance I knew had come from my father’s pipe.

Gio’s phone buzzed, shattering the calm. He peered at the screen with a sigh. “Duty calls. Well, Claudia does. Time to go shopping.”

I straightened. “I think I might stay here a while.” Where my father’s presence still lingered.

He smiled and kissed my forehead. “That sounds like a great plan. When I get back, we’ll give you a floor show.” He chuckled. “I might even use the ballroom as my own personal catwalk. I think I can do a mean moody impression of a model, don’t you?” Then he pulled a face, eyebrows arched, jaw set, with a full-on pout.

I laughed, andLord, that felt good.

When the door closed behind him, I leaned back in the chair, staring at the letter.

He didn’t change his mind.

He didn’t suddenly become a LGBTQ+ activist.To be honest, I would never have expected him to do that.

But he had attempted to build a bridge between us, a move I hadn’t anticipated.

I gazed at his study.And now I’ll never know how things might have been, if only he’d been prepared to say what lay in his heart—and I’d been prepared to listen.

Chapter Thirty-Five

June 5

Gio

Ihad never felt so out of place and it probably showed, in my body language and my expressions. With Claudia’s help, I’d chosen an appropriate suit, so I knew I looked okay, but each time I was introduced to one of the ball’s attendees, they spoke to me in polite tones riddled with condescension, each remark a—sometimes—subtle barb aimed at either my profession or the USA.

“Oh, you’re an American writer? How… refreshing. I do adore the enthusiasm of self-taught literature.”

“And are you a famous writer? I feel the American public is rather obsessed with those who entertain them. It must be exhausting, living for their fleeting approval.”

“It must be so charming to read about our world through the lens of your limited American experience. But you do get some things right, I suppose.”

“Ah, America—the land of the free and the home of… was it cowboys or capitalists?”

“It’s charming how Americans like to think they can be as sophisticated as Europeans, with all that new wealth and self-made success.”

“I’m sure your history is very different in America, but we Europeans have a far more complex and storied past.”

How I kept a lid on my temper—and a brake on my mouth—I would never know, but through it all I maintained the cool facade of a fixed polite smile and bit my tongue.

I’d stayed away from Nick all evening, and that was torture. Princess Karoline seemed congenial enough from a distance, but I couldn’t help but notice how Nick hadn’t relaxed once in her presence.

When I’d had all the conversation I could stomach, I stood on the periphery, drinking in the chatter, the strains of violins and other instruments from the minstrels’ gallery, the dancers…

Claudia appeared beside me. “Have you two actually been introduced yet?” she murmured before sipping her champagne.

I didn’t have to ask who she meant. “No—have you? Wait a sec, though. You’ve already met.”

She nodded, her eyes locked on Nick. “We exchanged polite greetings, that’s all. No different from the other occasions where we’ve met. We never speak long enough for me to form an opinion of her, apart from guessing she’s somehow related to a snake.” I blinked and she stared back at me. “What? They’re cold-blooded, aren’t they? And from my limited experience of her, Karoline doesn’t strike me as a particularly warm person. Which makes me very curious to know what goes on inside that head. What kind of woman do they want him to marry? What makes her tick? Does she have opinions of her own?”

---