The Royal House of Niroli Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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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