Читать книгу The Royal House of Niroli Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Пенни Джордан - Страница 30

‘HOW was your time at the palace with the king?’ Lucia Salvati, the nurse on Amelia’s afternoon roster, asked three days later.

‘It was better than I feared,’ she answered as she glanced at the patient list in the nurses’ station.

‘Why? Did he give you a hard time being a Vialli and all?’

Amelia shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think his bodyguards even mentioned my name to him. I just had to help him into bed and be on call in case he needed anything during the night. He barely addressed a single word to me the whole time I was there.’

‘No wonder you look so tired,’ Lucia said. ‘Do you really have to take on this extra job? You already have enough on your plate with this place, not to mention the community work you insist on doing.’

‘I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides, I need the money.’

‘Don’t we all?’ Lucia groaned in agreement. ‘Just wait until you’re married with a couple of kids—that’s when you’ll be needing money and lots of it.’

‘Yes, well, I’m not planning on getting married,’ Amelia said with determination.

‘Why? You’re not still thinking of going back to the convent, are you? I thought you gave up on that idea—what was it…five or six years ago?’

‘No, I’m not planning on going back. I just don’t want the complication of a relationship, ‘Amelia said. ‘I saw what it did to my mother—loving a man too much, losing her sense of self, her self-respect. I’ve decided I’d much rather be alone.’

‘Your parents’ situation was a little unusual,’ Lucia pointed out. ‘Besides, your mother wasn’t to know what was going on in the background—hardly anyone did until it was over.’

Amelia released a heavy sigh. ‘I know, but sometimes it seems as if the whole island would be happier if every one of us Viallis were dead and buried.’

Lucia gave her an empathetic look. ‘Have your brothers been in trouble again?’

Amelia lifted her gaze to meet her colleague’s. ‘Rico lost his job at the vineyard. He got into a fight with one of the other workers. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about but I can guess. It’s always the same.’

‘What about Silvio? Is he still employed down at the port?’

‘I haven’t heard from him for two weeks,’ Amelia said. ‘It might be because he has a new girlfriend or it might be because he’s doing some underhand deal like the last time, which will no doubt bring even more disgrace to our family.’

‘So you are working three jobs to keep food on the table,’ Lucia said.

‘What else can I do?’

Lucia gave her arm a little squeeze. ‘You’re right, there’s nothing else you can do. I would do the very same but it seems a shame you are the one paying the biggest price.’

‘My mother paid the biggest price, Lucia,’ Amelia said as she got to her feet. ‘She died because she fell in love with the wrong man at the wrong time.’

‘How is your father?’

‘As difficult as ever.’

‘You still can’t convince him to have treatment?’ Lucia asked.

‘He hates doctors. Ever since he was diagnosed with cancer he won’t have anything to do with anyone medical, apart from me, of course, but even with me he’s becoming increasingly uncooperative.’

‘Speaking of doctors, have you run into the Australian yet? Word has it he’s come a few days early to get a feel for the island before he meets the king. Apparently this new technique could be the answer to the king’s heart problem. At ninety years of age a triple bypass is terribly risky, but Dr Hunter has pioneered this off-pump bypass procedure. It’s apparently much less traumatic than being cooled on bypass and having your heart stopped, especially for older patients.’

‘I can’t see it ever happening at this hospital,’ Amelia said, carefully avoiding answering Lucia’s original question. ‘We haven’t got the beds for one thing, and we’re constantly short-staffed.’

‘The king will no doubt insist on having it done at the private hospital, but Dr Hunter has come to train the cardiac team here. I think it’s very good of him to give up his time. He could just as easily have refused and gone off to sun himself before returning to Sydney. We should do all we can to support him while he’s here.’

Amelia shifted her gaze and began to shuffle some papers on the desk in front of her. ‘I’m thinking about a transfer to another ward.’

‘What?’ Lucia’s tone was incredulous. ‘You can’t be serious! But you are cardiac trained.’

‘I know, but I feel like a change.’

‘But that’s crazy, Amelia. You’ll be needed more than ever with Dr Hunter here. It would be embarrassing if we were short of cardiac nurses to help with the recovery of the patients he’s operated on.’

‘There are other nurses who could do the job.’

‘That’s not true. We’re chronically under-staffed, and, besides, you know you are the most experienced nurse amongst us. You can’t possibly consider leaving us in the lurch like that.’

Amelia chewed at her bottom lip. She knew Lucia was right, but the thought of seeing that seductive smile across a patient’s bed was unthinkable. It was cowardly, but she didn’t have the aplomb to follow through from such a mortifying first encounter.

‘Don’t tell me you have something against Australians,’ Lucia filled the tiny silence. ‘Practically half of us on Niroli have relatives living over there. Besides, from what one of the other nurses said Dr Hunter looks more Italian than anything else.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Amelia said with a little frown. ‘I thought so too when I met—’

‘You’ve met him?’ Lucia’s eyes bulged.

‘Er…yes…’

‘So what’s he like? Does he say “G’day, moite” and “crikey” and stuff like that?’

Amelia couldn’t help laughing at her friend’s attempt at an Australian accent. ‘No, he sounds…’ she suppressed a tiny shiver as she recalled that deep velvet voice ‘…well educated and…’

‘And?’ Lucia prompted eagerly.

‘He’s…very strong.’

‘Strong?’

‘As in big muscles,’ she explained with heightened colour.

Lucia’s brows rose slightly. ‘So how did you get to see the size of his muscles?’

Amelia gave her a wry look. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know.’

‘Oh, but I do!’ Lucia called after her as Amelia left the nurses’ station. ‘You’ll have to fill me in sooner or later!’

Amelia opened her mouth to politely tell her to mind her own business when she caught sight of a tall figure striding down the corridor towards them with Vincenzo Morani, the senior cardiac surgeon, by his side.

‘Ah, this is the nurse I was speaking to you about,’ Dr Morani said as they drew closer. ‘Amelia, this is Dr Alex Hunter from Australia. I have been telling him you are our most experienced cardiac nurse, one of our most valuable assets in post-operative care.’

Amelia stretched her mouth into what could loosely be described as a smile. ‘Buongiorno, Dr Hunter.’

‘We’ve already met, haven’t we?’ Alex said with a cheeky grin that crinkled the corners of his dark-as-night eyes.

‘Oh?’ Dr Morani looked faintly relieved. ‘Well, then…I’ll leave you two to have a chat while I get organised for Theatre.’ He turned back to Amelia. ‘You don’t mind showing Dr Hunter around the rest of the department, do you? I have an urgent matter to see to in ICU.’

‘But I—’ She stopped when she saw the look Alex Hunter gave her.

‘Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed about our meeting the other day?’ he asked in a gravelly undertone once the other surgeon had left.

‘Of course not,’ she lied. ‘It could have happened to anyone.’

‘Anyone wearing a dress that is.’

She turned from his teasing look and began quickly striding up the corridor reciting mechanically, ‘This is the nurses’ station and over there is the tea room and over there is the storeroom for the—’

‘What are you doing tonight?’ he asked.

Amelia stopped in her tracks and gaped up at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I’ve seen so many hospitals in my time I’m sure I’ll be able to find my way around this one without a guided tour. What I would prefer is if you would show me around the island.’ He gave her a little wink. ‘How about it?’

She struggled to get her voice into gear. ‘I—I don’t think that is such a good idea.’

‘I’m sure your boyfriend won’t mind if you tell him it’s work-related,’ he said.

‘I do not have a boyfriend.’

His eyes lit up. ‘Great, then it’s a date. I’ll pick you up. Where do you live?’

She glanced up at him in alarm. ‘I am not going anywhere with you.’

He gave her a mock-forlorn look. ‘Hey, just because I saw your knickers the other day doesn’t mean I want my wicked way with you. I just want you to show me around.’

‘Find someone else,’ she bit out frostily, her colour at an all-time high as she resumed stalking down the corridor. ‘I’m not interested.’

Alex smiled to himself as she disappeared around the corner.

He had a month to change her mind.

Amelia had arranged for Rico to pick her up after her shift was finished, and he was in another of his foul moods.

‘Hurry up. I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes,’ he growled as she got in the car.

‘Sorry, I had to spend some time with the relatives of a patient,’ she said. ‘Is Papà all right?’

His mouth twisted as he put the car into gear. ‘You’re not going to believe this but he wants to see a doctor.’

She swivelled in her seat to gape at him. ‘Really?’

He flicked a quick glance her way. ‘I couldn’t believe it myself but he insists he wants to see the new doctor.’

Amelia felt her stomach drop. ‘The Australian one?’

‘Yes. He thinks he of all people will not be biased against him.’

She let out a prickly breath. ‘Dr Hunter is a cardiac surgeon, Rico, not an oncologist. There’s no cure for lung cancer, or at least certainly not for the stage Papà is at. He’s coughing blood every day and the original cat-scan showed the rapid expansion of the tumours and—’

‘He wants to see him and he wants you to arrange it as soon as you can.’

She sat back in her seat, a hollow feeling settling in her stomach. Her father needed palliative care, not a social call from a visiting heart specialist who was the biggest flirt she had ever met. Well, maybe not quite the biggest flirt, she thought bitterly. Even now, eleven years on, she still couldn’t help that empty sinking feeling whenever she brought Benito Rossini’s features to mind. She had been a fool to fall for his easygoing charm, not for a moment stopping to think if the handsome businessman visiting Niroli from Milan was already taken. It had devastated her to find he had a wife and two children at home. She had given him her innocence and he had betrayed her in the worst possible way.

‘Have you heard from Silvio?’ Rico disturbed her painful reverie.

‘No. I just hope he’s not doing anything illegal,’ she said, looking out at the grey-green of the olive groves they were passing. ‘I couldn’t bear it if we had something else to live down.’

Her brother gave a rough grunt. ‘As soon as I get some money together I’m going to leave the island. I am tired of living with the shame of the past.’

Amelia turned to look at him. ‘But what about Papà? Surely you’re not thinking of leaving before he.’ she hesitated over the word ‘.goes.’

He lifted one shoulder dismissively. ‘It’s his fault we have been forced to live this way.’

‘That’s not true!’

Rico sent her a cynical glance. ‘You are just like Mamma was, too innocent to see the truth until it was too late.’

She frowned at his tone. ‘What do you mean?’

‘There are things about Papà you should know.’

Amelia felt her throat tighten. ‘W-what sort of things?’

‘Things about his role with the bandits thirty-four years ago.’

‘He wasn’t a key person. Mamma told me he got caught up in it but had never intended to play a major role. He’s told me that himself, and I believe him. Think about it, Rico. Our father is a bit rough and unpolished around the edges, but he’s not a violent man. He has never raised a hand to any of us—how can you possibly think him capable of condoning the activities of such a despicable movement?’

‘There are rumours circulating on the island that he had something to do with the kidnapping of the infant prince,’ he said.

Amelia felt her heart begin to pick up its pace at the grim expression on her older brother’s face. ‘There have always been stupid rumours. It doesn’t mean you have to believe them.’

‘But what if someone has irrefutable proof of his involvement?’

She stared at him, shock rendering her speechless.

He met her eyes briefly. ‘You have heard that Prince Marco has renounced his right to the throne once King Giorgio abdicates?’

‘Yes…I have heard about it,’ she answered.

Marco Fierezza’s parents and his uncle had been tragically killed two years ago in a yachting accident, which had left him as the next in line after his grandfather, King Giorgio. There had been some speculation about the nature of the accident, some people suggesting it had been yet another attempt to bring the monarchy down, but so far no evidence had been brought forward to convict anyone of anything untoward. The coroner had made his decision that the yacht had come to grief as a result of the wild storms that had ravaged the coast of Niroli that year and which had been fiercer than ever before.

The island had lately been buzzing with the news that Marco had decided to marry his mistress, Emily Woodford, a young Englishwoman, who—because she had been previously divorced—made it impossible for Marco to claim his right to the throne.

Amelia had thought it incredibly romantic that a man would give up his birthright for the love of a woman. Renouncing the throne of Niroli, with its long and ancient history, must have been a huge decision for Prince Marco. And a sacrifice she was sure few modern men would be prepared to make.

The Fierezza family had ruled the island since the Middle Ages, and with its rich volcanic soil and temperate climate the island had prospered as a key port on a major wine, spice and perfume trading route. But while the island of Niroli was ruled by the monarchy headed by the ageing and increasingly unwell King Giorgio, the neighbouring island of Mont Avellana was now a republic partly due to the resistance movement that had occurred in the nineteen seventies.

Amelia was well aware of the ongoing resentment and rivalry between the two islands and often wondered if her younger, somewhat wayward, brother Silvio was in some way involved in a resurgence of the movement that had cost both the monarchy and her family so dearly.

‘King Giorgio is becoming impatient to find a contender for the throne,’ Rico said. ‘His fading health makes it imperative he does so soon, otherwise the continuation of the monarchy could be under threat.’

‘I suppose that’s why he invited the Australian specialist all this way to see him,’ Amelia said with a cynical twist to her mouth. ‘I wonder how much he paid him.’

Rico gave her a quick sideways glance. ‘The doctor would not accept payment of any kind.’

She stared at him again. ‘How do you know?’

‘I have it on good authority that Dr Hunter refused all offers of money from the king. He came to the island because he is keen to bring this new technique to less affluent hospitals around the globe. He agreed to meet the king and give his professional opinion on his condition and whether he would be a suitable candidate for the surgery, but apart from that he insisted he spend the majority of his time at the Free Hospital and that any donations made go towards its upkeep.’

Amelia sat back in her seat with a little frown pulling at her forehead. She felt a little ashamed of her too hasty assessment of Alex Hunter as an opportunistic playboy on a royally funded visit. If what her brother had said was true, the visiting specialist had similar goals to her own—bringing a much better standard of care to the patients who couldn’t afford the expense of private health care.

But he was still an outrageous flirt, she reminded herself in case she was tempted to recall again the feel of those strong, muscular arms around her. The last thing she needed in her life was a man with a smile that could melt a glacier.

‘You said someone has proof about Papà's involvement with the rebellion,’ she said. ‘What sort of proof?’

‘There is talk that the infant prince who was kidnapped wasn’t actually killed.’

Amelia gave him an incredulous look. ‘But that’s crazy, Rico. I walked past the little boy’s grave the other day at the palace.’

He sent her a quick unreadable glance. ‘A child was certainly killed during the rescue operation, but what if it isn’t Prince Alessandro Fierezza that is buried at the castle?’

Amelia felt a shiver run from the base of her spine to disturb the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. ‘What are you saying? That Papà was somehow involved in this?’

‘You said it yourself. Papà is not a violent man. What if he couldn’t go through with the orders he was given by the leader of the bandits and spirited the prince away instead of killing him?’

She frowned as she considered the possibility. ‘But a child was killed.’

‘Yes, that’s true.’

‘But not necessarily by Papà…’

‘You still want him to be innocent, don’t you?’ he asked.

‘I can’t bear the thought of our father killing an innocent child, prince or not,’ she said. ‘He just couldn’t possibly have done such a thing.’

‘The rumours are not going to die down. It will make life even more difficult for us on the island.’

‘Is that why you lost your job at the vineyard?’ she hazarded a guess.

‘I was going to leave anyway. I am sick of being treated like a peasant.’

‘You should have stayed at school like Mamma wanted. You would have had more choices in terms of a career.’

‘Like you, you mean?’ he said with a cynical movement of his lips. ‘At least I have some sort of life.’

‘I wish people would not keep criticising me for choosing to care for others instead of myself,’ she grumbled. ‘I love my work. It fulfils me.’

‘You don’t have to give your life away in order to serve others.’ He threw another quick glance her way. ‘Once Papà dies you will be free to do what you want with your future. You could even leave the island, go and work in some other place for a while. It would make you realise there is a whole world outside of Niroli.’

Amelia knew there was an element of truth in what he said. She had cloistered herself away for too long, but the alternatives were just too threatening. She was frightened of making another dreadful mistake. She didn’t have the experience that other women her age took for granted. She had only had one lover and it had turned her world upside down. The lingering shame of it still clung to her like a scratchy fabric against her tender skin. How had she been so blind, so gullible and so trusting? She just didn’t know how to relate to men other than as patients or relatives, and as for her medical colleagues—she kept them at a professional distance at all times.

It was safer that way.

‘I will need the car again tomorrow,’ Rico said as he took the turn to their run-down cottage in the foothills. ‘I have some business to attend to. I can give you a lift to the hospital but I think I should warn you I am leaving before sunrise and I might not be back until midnight.’

‘I’ll take the pushbike,’ she said, her heart sinking at the thought of the long ride into town. At least most of the journey was downhill, but the return trip after a day on the ward was no picnic.

‘Maybe you could ask Dr Hunter to give you a lift home tomorrow,’ Rico suggested. ‘That way you can kill two birds with one stone.’

‘I hardly think Dr Hunter is going to make a house call way up here,’ she said. ‘I’ll try and convince Papà to see him at the hospital or even the community clinic.’

‘He won’t go. You’ll have to get the doctor to come here. I am sure he won’t mind. Perhaps you could offer to show him around the island as a return favour—he probably won’t expect payment.’

Oh, yes, he will, Amelia thought as she brought that sensual smiling mouth to mind. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making any promises,’ she said.

Rico sent her one of his rare smiles. ‘You’re a good sister, Ammie. I don’t know what we would do without you.’

She smiled back at him shyly. It was indeed a rarity to receive a compliment from either of her brothers and certainly never from her father. ‘Thank you, Rico. I just want us all to be happy and free of the past.’

The smile instantly faded from her brother’s face. ‘We can never be free of the past. It has cast a shadow over us that will not go away.’

Amelia followed him into the cottage with a despondent sigh. She hated to admit it but her brother was right.

What the nuns had taught her was true: the sins of the fathers were revisited on the next generation.

All her life she had lived with the burden of being a Vialli, the most scorned and hated family on the island of Niroli for what they had done to the king’s little grandson.

She suppressed a little shudder at the thought of that tiny broken body buried in the palace grounds, the Fierezza coat of arms emblazoned on his headstone, the family motto inscribed below.

Sempre Appassionato, Sempre Fiero.

Always passionate, always proud.

She had stood in respectful silence that day, comforting herself that at least the little prince was now at rest with his parents in heaven.

But what if he was still alive as her brother had suggested, but totally unaware of his royal heritage?

And if he was indeed alive, then who was the little boy who now lay in the Fierezza family vault…and why hadn’t his real parents come forward to claim him?