The Dutiful Wife

Poor Natasha. No matter how selfish and unpleasant she had been, she had not deserved such a cruel fate.

In the hospital room Saul looked down at his cousin, wired up to machines that clicked and whirred, his head bandaged and his body still beneath the sheets.

‘He’s lost both legs,’ the nurse had told Saul before she opened the door to the room, ‘and there’s some damage to his internal organs.’

‘Is he…? Will he survive?’ Saul had asked her.

‘We shall do our best to ensure that he does,’ she had answered crisply, but Saul had seen the truth and its reality in her eyes.

His vision blurred as he looked at Aldo. His cousin had always been so accommodating, so gentle and good.

‘You’re here. Knew you’d come. Been waiting.’

The words, though perfectly audible, were dragged out and slow. Aldo lifted his hand, and Saul took it between his own as he sat down next to the bed. Aldo’s flesh felt cold and dry. The word lifeless sprang into Saul’s mind but he pushed it away.

‘Want you to promise me something.’

Saul gritted his teeth. If Aldo was going to ask him to look after Natasha in the event of his death then he was going to nod his head and agree, and not tell him that she was dead. Aldo adored his wife, even though in Saul’s mind she was not worthy of that love.

‘Anything,’ he told Aldo, and meant it.

‘Want you to promise that you will look after our country and its people for me, Saul. Want you to take my place as its ruler. Want you to promise that you will secure its future with an heir. Can’t break the family chain. Duty must come first…’

Saul closed his eyes. Ruling the country was the last thing he wanted, and he had always felt confident that he would never have to do so. Aldo was younger than him, after all, and married. He had assumed that Aldo and Natasha would produce children to succeed to the title.

And as for Saul himself producing an heir…That was the last thing he wanted to do. He did not want children and neither did Giselle. For both of them what they had experienced during their own childhoods had left them determined not to have children of their own. That shared decision had forged a very strong bond between them—a bond that was all the stronger because they knew that other people would find it hard to understand. Only with one another had they been able to talk about the pain of their childhoods and the vulnerabilities that pain still caused them.

How could he discuss all of that now, though, when his cousin was dying and with his final breath asking him for his help—and his promise?

What was he to do? Refuse Aldo’s dying plea?

Aldo had touched a nerve with his use of the word duty. Their family had ruled Arezzio in an unbroken line that went back over countless generations, but more important than that he owed a duty of care to this man lying here—his cousin, his flesh, his blood, who but for him would never have met Natasha. It was his fault that Aldo was lying here, dying in front of his eyes—because that was what was happening.

‘Promise me. Promise me, Saul.’ Aldo’s voice strengthened, his hand tightening on Saul’s as he tried to raise himself up.

‘Waited for you to come. Can’t go until you give me your promise. Must do my duty. Even though…’ A grimace gripped his mouth. ‘Hurts like hell.’ Tears welled up in his eyes. ‘Promise me, Saul.’

Saul hesitated. He could and would accept that it was his duty to provide their country with a strong leader, committed to doing his best for his people. He could give Aldo his promise that he would be that leader. When it came to the matter of providing an heir, though, Saul was a committed democrat who believed in elected rule. If he were to step into Aldo’s shoes that would be the direction in which he took the country—leading it by example away from the rule of protective paternalism provided by centuries of his ancestors into the maturity of democracy. And with that democracy there would be no need for him to provide an heir.

Aldo knew his feelings on the subject of ancient privilege. But he was still asking him for a deathbed promise.

Saul looked at his cousin. He loved him dearly. What mattered most here? Being true to his beliefs and stating them? Or easing the passing of his cousin in the knowledge that in reality, no matter what Aldo was asking now, he knew what Saul’s principles and beliefs were? Saul closed his eyes. He had never longed more to have Giselle at his side, with wise counsel and comfort to offer him. But she wasn’t here, and he must make his decision alone.

‘I promise,’ he told Aldo. ‘I promise that I will do my very best for our country and its people, Aldo.’

‘Knew I could rely on you.’ The grimace softened, to be replaced by something that was almost a smile.

‘Natasha?’ Aldo asked, speaking the word so slowly and painfully that it tore at Saul’s heart. ‘Already gone?’

Saul bowed his head.

‘Thought so. Nothing to keep me here now.’ Aldo closed his eyes, his breathing so calm and steady that initially Saul thought with a surge of hope that he might survive. But then he drew in a ragged breath and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on Saul as he exhaled and then said quite clearly, in a wondering voice of delight and welcome, ‘Natasha.’

Saul didn’t need the flat line of the machine to tell him that Aldo had gone. He could feel it in the flaccid touch of his hand, feel it as clearly as though he had actually seen his spirit leave his body.

In the waiting room Giselle stood up when the door opened and Saul came in, knowing instantly what had happened, and going to Saul to take him in her arms and hold him tightly.

Neither of them spoke very much on the journey back to London City Airport and from there to their townhouse in London’s luxurious and expensive Chelsea.

Once they were inside their house, an eighteenth-century mansion, Saul dropped the guard he had been maintaining whilst they had been in public and paced the floor of their elegant drawing room, his eyes red-rimmed with grief and shock.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Giselle told him, going to him and placing her hand on his arm, bringing a halt to his pacing. ‘I know how much Aldo meant to you.’

‘He was younger than me—my younger cousin—but more like a brother than a cousin to me in many ways. Especially after our parents died and we were one another’s only blood relatives. I should have protected him better, Giselle.’

‘How could you have?’

‘I knew what Natasha’s father was. I should have—’

‘What? Forbidden Aldo from ever sharing a car with his father-in-law? You couldn’t know that Natasha’s father would be assassinated.’ Giselle’s voice softened. ‘I do understand how you feel, though.’ Of course she did. She had suffered dreadfully through the guilt and sense of responsibility she had felt after the deaths of her mother and baby brother. ‘But you are not to blame, Saul—just like I wasn’t to blame for what happened with my family.’

Saul placed his hand over Giselle’s where it rested on his arm.

No one would be able to understand how he felt better than Giselle. He knew that. But the situation with Aldo was very different from her situation. She had been a six-year-old child. He was a man, and he had always known how vulnerable his gentle cousin was—to Natasha and all the pain he would suffer through loving her. But not this—not his death as an accident, a nothing, the fall-out from the actions of someone whose target was not Aldo himself.

‘This should never have happened. Aldo had so much to give—especially to his country and its people.’

‘He wanted greater democracy for them,’ Giselle reminded Saul gently, not wanting to say outright at such a sensitive time that Aldo’s death had opened the door to the country taking charge of its own future, electing a government rather than being ruled by a member of its royal family. Talking about the future of the country without Aldo was bound to be painful for Saul.

‘I’m going to have to go to Russia—and the sooner the better,’ Saul told her abruptly, and explained when she frowned, ‘Distasteful though it is to have to speak of such matters, the fact remains that Aldo survived both Natasha and her father. Since the rule of law when there is more than one death in a family at the same time is that the youngest member of that family is deemed to have survived the longest, it means that by that Natasha, as her father’s only child, will have inherited his assets at the moment of their deaths. And that in turn means that Aldo, as Natasha’s husband, will have inherited those assets from her by virtue of the fact that he survived her.’

‘Does that mean that as Aldo’s only living relative those assets will now pass to you?’ Giselle asked. ‘I don’t like the thought of that, Saul. Not just because of the circumstances of Aldo’s death, and the fact that he has died so young. It’s the nature of the assets, the way they were accumulated. I feel that they are…’

‘Tainted?’ Saul suggested, and Giselle nodded her head. ‘I share your feelings, and certainly the last thing I want or intend to allow to happen is for me to have any personal benefit from that money. However, I have a duty to Aldo and to the country—to do what is right for them. It was thanks to Ivan Petranovachov’s bad advice that Aldo invested so heavily and unwisely in ventures that led to him losing a great deal of money. I know that I helped him out by clearing his personal debts, but the country itself is still heavily burdened with loans that Aldo took out, intending to use the money for the benefit of his people. Unfortunately most of that money ended up in schemes that benefited those who proposed them—many of them business associates of Natasha’s father.’

Giselle nodded. None of this was new to her. She was well aware of how angry Saul had been when Natasha had announced so smugly just after Christmas, when they had visited them, that she had insisted on Aldo ignoring Saul’s advice and turning to her own father instead. Aldo, sweet-natured though he had been, had not had a very good head for business.

‘What I plan to do first of all is speak to Natasha’s father’s Russian partners and business associates and find out exactly what the situation is. Then I’ll set about selling off the assets and using that money to clear Arezzio’s outstanding debts brought about by Aldo’s ill-advised investment of the country’s money in Ivan Petranovachov’s business enterprises. Anything that is left I intend to give to charity. Not our own charity. I don’t want that tainted by money wrung out of businesses that rely on cheap enforced labour—which is what I suspect many of Ivan Petranovachov’s businesses do. I shall speak to someone in authority at the Russian Embassy and ask them to recommend suitable recipients for the money.’

‘I think that’s an excellent idea,’ Giselle approved. ‘When will we need to leave for Russia?’

Saul shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to come with me, Giselle.’

She tried to hide how much his statement upset her, but it was impossible for her to conceal her feelings. ‘We always try to travel together, and especially on an occasion like this, I want to be with you.’

To give him her support. Saul knew that was what she meant.

‘I know,’ he agreed, ‘and believe me there is nothing I want more than to have you with me, supporting me.’ He gave her a tender smile. ‘We work so well together. It’s thanks to you that we founded our orphanage charity, and that, as you know, has done so much to help me lay the anger and negativity I felt towards my mother to rest. But I doubt I’ll be well received by some of Ivan Petranovachov’s business colleagues. I don’t want you being subjected to any unpleasantness—or danger.’

Giselle’s heart thudded against her breastbone. ‘And I don’t want you to be in danger.’

‘I shall be very careful,’ he assured her. ‘But it will be easier for me to do what has to be done if I don’t have to worry about your safety. I won’t be gone long. Three or four days at the most.’

Giselle exhaled unhappily. What Saul was saying made sense, but they’d only just spent some time apart. However, she didn’t want to add to the burdens that Saul was already carrying at such a tragic and unhappy time by making a fuss and having him worry about her, as well as dealing with the complications caused by Aldo’s death.

‘I understand,’ she told him, unable to resist adding ruefully, despite her good intentions, ‘I just hate us being apart so much. You’ll have to blame yourself for that, for making me so happy.’

Saul smiled down at her. ‘That’s a two-way street, you know. You make me happier than I ever imagined I could be, and that only makes me feel even more guilty about Aldo. We both know that his marriage can’t have brought him anything like the happiness we share. There was never any real emotional commitment or closeness between him and Natasha.’

‘He loved Natasha but I don’t think she loved him in the same way.’

‘Our relationship is built on mutual honesty and trust. I know you would never conceal anything from me. I doubt very much that Aldo could ever have said that about Natasha.’

Giselle rested her head on Saul’s shoulder, her heart thumping with the guilt that thudded through her. She had kept something concealed from Saul. But it was nothing he needed to know, nothing that affected her love for him. In fact, if anything, what she hadn’t told him only made her love for him stronger and deeper, because their shared decision not to have children meant that what she hadn’t told him need not matter.

‘I love you so much,’ she told him now. ‘Our life together is everything I hoped it would be and more.’

‘I agree. You are the best, Giselle. You bring out the best in me. You are my love and my life.’ Saul drew her closer and kissed her, tenderly at first and then more hungrily. Life was so precious, and so was love, and the need to drive away the darkness of Aldo’s death and find comfort and solace in the act of love surged through him.

Giselle responded immediately, returning his kiss with her own desire. Sometimes actions and emotions did not need words or explanation.

Saul left for Russia the next day, after an early morning appointment at the Russian Embassy to discuss his plans and get approval for them. He had reassured himself that Giselle, who had woken in the night feeling unwell—the result of their rushed flight back to the UK and the shock of the assassination, they both agreed—was back to her normal self, even if her stomach did still feel rather delicate.

Their own affairs would have to be put on hold for now, Giselle knew. There would be Aldo’s funeral to arrange—a state funeral, of course, given his position. Natasha was to be buried with him, but the Russian Embassy had undertaken to arrange her father’s funeral.

Giselle decided to spend the time whilst Saul was away working on her plans for the island Saul had bought, the acquisition of which had originally brought them together. Saul had given the island to her as a surprise wedding gift, and they had decided that instead of building a luxurious hotel complex on it, as had been Saul’s original plan, the island would become home to a holiday complex for orphaned and deprived children. Giselle was in negotiations with various theme parks with a view to creating something very special indeed for those children.

Just one of the things that had deepened her love for Saul was the fact that he understood her need for their charitable work to be focused on children because of the death of her baby brother. She knew, of course, that nothing could bring her brother back to life, just as nothing could ever completely take away the guilt that she suffered, but she still felt driven to do something to help children whose lives she could do something to save.

Because of her baby brother…and because of the children she could never have?

Giselle pushed away the plans on which she had been working in the light-filled studio—Saul had turned the house over to her after their marriage, for her to reorganise as she wished, and the large double office and workspace she had created out of the original darkly formal and masculine library had delighted him as much as it did her.

The children she could never have for their own sake, for their safety when they were small and vulnerable, and for their ability to live their lives without the fear that had stalked her life once they were adult.

Had stalked hers? Was she sure that that fear was truly in the past? Of course she was. Saul had given her his love and his assurance that he did not want children, and her husband was above all else a man of his word. A man she could trust.

Giselle stood up, blinking away the sudden rush of tears that clouded her vision. Why was she crying when she had so much? When she had Saul’s love? When it was in part their shared determination not to have children that had bonded them together? Did she really need to ask herself that? Every time they visited the children supported by their charity, when she spoke to or held one of them, it made her ache to hold Saul’s child, but that could and must never be.

Her mobile rang. She looked at it, smiling when she saw that her caller was Saul.

‘It’s just a quick call,’ he told her. ‘Just to make sure you’re all right.’

‘I’m fine—what about you?’ she asked anxiously.

‘I’m getting through things, so it shouldn’t be too long before I’m back.’

‘I miss you,’ Giselle told him.

‘I miss you, too,’ was his answer.

After their call had ended Giselle promised herself that once all the formalities to do with Aldo’s death were over she’d suggest to Saul that they took a few days out together—not just to make up for the time they had lost in rushing back to England, but also so that Saul could mourn Aldo privately.

In Moscow Saul stared out of his hotel bedroom window. The deathbed promise Aldo had demanded from him still weighed heavily on him. Ruling Arezzio had always been the last thing he had wanted to do, and he had been glad that it was Aldo who had inherited that responsibility and not him. He loved the life he and Giselle had built for themselves, and he knew that Giselle did too. Just as the loss of their parents and their childhoods had left them both with the belief that they hadn’t mattered, that they had not been loved by their parents, had bonded them together, so had their shared enjoyment of their business activities. Their lives during the year of their marriage had focused on their love for one another and their duty to that love.

Now, though, he had another duty to consider. A duty that would totally change the way he and Giselle lived their lives and which would impose on them all the demands that came with taking on the mantle of hereditary ruler—the next in a long line of such rulers, father and son, over centuries of generations.

He would be glad to leave Russia—and not just because he missed Giselle. The behaviour of Natasha’s father and some of his business associates had left a bad taste in his mouth, and he had seen from his meetings with the relevant Russian officials that they shared his distaste for the manner in which Ivan Petranovachov had accumulated his vast fortune.

Around Natasha’s neck at the time of her death had been a necklace which Saul had been informed had belonged to the last Tsarina—a piece of such historic value that its rightful home was a museum. And yet somehow Natasha’s father had been able to gain possession of this piece. Saul had been glad to hand it over to the Russian authorities, tainted as it was by the fate of the Tsarina for whom it had been designed. He smiled to himself, knowing what Giselle’s reaction would be were he to tell her that he wished to commission a piece of jewellery for her worth a king’s ransom. She would immediately insist that he put the money into their charity instead.

Giselle. Saul felt an urgent need to be with her, holding her, feeling the living warmth of her in his arms as they made love.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SIGNS OF MOURNING grew as they drove towards the capital city of Arezzio: black flags bearing Aldo’s crest at half-mast on every lamppost, as well as hanging from the windows of so many of his people. It brought a lump of emotion to Giselle’s throat. She turned to Saul to tell him so, and then stopped.

Saul was not looking at her. He was looking away from her. She had known that Saul would be affected by his cousin’s death, but since he had returned from Russia at the beginning of the week, after their initial fierce and joyous reunion lovemaking, Saul had seemed to retreat from her into his own thoughts. At first she had put it down to his natural grief, but now she was beginning to feel that Saul was deliberately excluding her from his thoughts and feelings about the loss of his cousin. Whenever she tried to talk to him about Aldo he cut her off and changed the subject, as though he didn’t want to share what he was feeling with her. Why? Didn’t he understand that his refusal to talk about Aldo to her was making her feel shut out and rejected?

She reached for his hand, her movement causing him to turn and look at her.

‘Something’s wrong,’ he guessed. ‘What is it?’

Relief filled her, and with it gratitude for Saul’s perceptive awareness.

‘You’ve seemed so guarded and withdrawn since you got back from Russia, I was beginning to worry.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ve been struggling to come to terms with what Aldo’s death is going to mean. It never crossed my mind that he might die so young, or to consider how that might impact on the future of the country.’

‘Aldo’s people will miss him,’ she said quietly. ‘I know that neither of us really approved of the way the country was run, with Natasha having such a strong influence on Aldo and when we both feel so strongly about democracy, but Aldo tried his best to be a good ruler. Natasha liked to complain that he put the country first, before her.’

‘That wasn’t true, of course, but Aldo did try his best to do his duty. It wasn’t his fault that Natasha was so determined to have her own way. Also, he believed sincerely in the right of the people to expect him to put his duty to them before everything else—just as he believed in the importance of the tradition of that duty being passed down through the generations.’

‘Your strong sense of duty and loyalty to those you care about is something you and Aldo share…shared,’ Giselle amended quickly, relieved when Saul squeezed her hand rather than looking upset because she had referred to Aldo in the present tense.

She felt much better now that they were talking about Aldo, about Saul’s feelings. Her childhood had left her with a fear of being excluded from the emotions of those she loved, and she suspected that it sometimes made her over-sensitive on that issue.

They had reached the palace now, where the Royal Guard was on duty, their normal richly coloured uniforms exchanged for mourning black, their tunics, like the flags, embroidered in scarlet and gold with the royal house’s coat of arms.

Tradition, like pomp and ceremony, could have a strong pull on the senses Giselle recognised as they were met from the car by one of Aldo’s elderly ministers, who bowed to Saul and then escorted them up the black carpet and into the palace. She tended to forget that Saul carried the same royal blood in his veins as his cousin—principally because Saul himself had always made it so clear to her that he had distanced himself from the whole royalty thing.

Saul had his own apartment within the palace, and Giselle was relieved that he had it, so that they could retreat to it after the ritual and ceremony of the public declaration of mourning that naturally dominated the atmosphere. Even the maids were dressed in black, and all the household staff looked genuinely upset by the loss of a ruler Giselle knew had been much loved, despite the fact that his gentle nature had made it next to impossible for him to stand up to both his wife and those who had wanted to use Arezzio for their own profit via a series of schemes that Giselle knew Saul had tried to dissuade Aldo from adopting.