The Italian's Rightful Bride - By Lucy Gordon Page 0,53

all the time I was thinking, Please let it be a boy, so I need never do this again. And then she turned out to be a girl and I was so angry.’

‘Angry?’

‘I was tired,’ Crystal said defensively. ‘I ached all over, and Gustavo was saying things like, “Never mind, darling. Next time.” Like that was supposed to make me feel better. And I knew every last person on the estate was going to be disappointed in me, and I just felt fed up.’

‘Fed up,’ Joanna echoed. Crystal’s petulant self-centredness was so overwhelming that it was almost impressive.

‘Of course the estate people were interested,’ she pointed out. ‘If the prince doesn’t have an heir it affects them all.’

‘Yes, well, it was no fun being a princess,’ Crystal said sulkily. ‘I thought it would be, but it wasn’t.’

‘Is that why you married him? For the title? You didn’t love him at all?’

‘I don’t really know,’ Crystal said, considering this. ‘Yes, I suppose I was in love with him, in a sort of way. He seemed glamorous and exciting then. I thought that was how we’d live, going to all the thrilling places in the world, meeting everyone who mattered. But all Gustavo wanted was to bury himself in this place and spend every penny on it.

‘Oh, we went travelling sometimes. He took me to New York every year. But even then he spent half his time on the phone to Renata’s nurse, wanting to know if everything was all right. And he couldn’t wait to get home. Lord, but he’s dull to live with!’

‘Dull? Gustavo?’

‘He doesn’t know how to have fun.’

‘I suppose he has his own idea of fun.’

‘Yes, old bones and bricks. History. Estate accounts. No, thank you!’

Suddenly she burst out, ‘I can’t help the way I’m made. It’s not my fault. I can’t make myself feel what I don’t feel.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ Joanna sighed.

‘I tried for years, but I couldn’t manage it. I should never have married him. He should have married you. You’re as dull as him.’

‘Yes, I suppose I am,’ Joanna said, without resentment.

You couldn’t be angry with Crystal, she reflected. Part of her was still a child, and knew no better.

‘I expect supper will be ready,’ she said. ‘Shall we go in?’

‘Just give me a moment. I haven’t called Elena yet.’

Crystal called Toni’s nanny several times a day to ask about him. In a moment she was on the phone to her, and Joanna could see at once that something was wrong.

‘I can hear him screaming,’ she said into the phone. ‘What’s wrong with him? Is he ill? What do you mean, hungry? He’s ill. I know he’s ill.’

Gustavo came into the room, with Renata. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Toni’s ill,’ Crystal wailed. ‘I must go to him at once. He might be dying.’

Gustavo took the phone from her. ‘Elena? What’s happened? I see. Just his feed being a few minutes late?’

‘I’ve got to go to him,’ Crystal wept.

Out of the corner of her eye Joanna saw Renata leave the room. Quietly she followed her out into the hall, up the stairs and as far as her room.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked as Renata began taking clothes out of drawers, hampered by only having one good arm.

‘I’m going with Mamma. She wants me.’

‘But—’

‘She wants me,’ Renata said, too decidedly to be convincing. ‘If Toni’s ill she won’t come back, so I have to go with her.’

Gustavo appeared in the doorway and she could see from his face that he had heard. He looked quickly at Joanna, and she saw a plea for help in his eyes.

‘Carissima,’ he said.

The child turned on him. ‘You can’t stop me.’

‘Gustavo!’ That was Crystal’s voice calling from the corridor. ‘I’m ready to go. I have to get to Toni quickly.’

‘I’m coming, Mamma,’ Renata called.

‘What?’ Crystal came into the room, frowning. ‘What did you say?’

‘I’m ready to go.’

‘But, darling, what are you talking about? I can’t take you with me.’

‘But you said—’

‘I said one day—maybe—but now Toni’s ill—’

‘But that means you’ll need me.’ Renata’s voice had risen to a wail.

‘But—but—I’m sorry, but you’ve got to understand—I simply can’t—’

‘Renata—’ Gustavo began.

‘No,’ Joanna said swiftly, putting her hand on his arm. ‘Don’t say it. This isn’t a time for authority. It’s a time for pleading.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t order her,’ she said softly. ‘But tell her how much you need her. Plead, beg if you have to.’

‘But you can see how she is—’

‘Don’t give Crystal the chance to reject her again. She couldn’t bear