Clementine had stopped working for a while when her father was hospitalized and hadn’t resumed anything full-time workwise since then, ruminating as she had over her loss and trying to remain nearby as a source of comfort for her mother.
But it felt time to get back to some sort of work; her mother had resumed many of her own activities, so why shouldn’t she? The only problem was deciding what to do. She had a degree in French literature, which wasn’t exactly the type of education to launch a high-powered career. Not that she needed one, from a financial perspective. She was set for life, thanks to her father’s largesse. Yet she didn’t want to fritter her days away exercising, shopping, and meeting girlfriends for cocktails. It wasn’t in her nature to live such a frivolous existence.
The work she’d given up hadn’t been particularly gratifying, though: she’d helped manage the office of her father’s dear friend, who was a barrister. The legal world didn’t exactly thrill her; half the time she felt as though her job was more like a daily tranquilizer. The one thing about the job she did greatly enjoy was planning the lavish client receptions the firm frequently hosted. If she could do that minus the ho-hum office work end of things, well, maybe that would be a start. She wanted something that would speak to her soul, and with the unexpected death of her father, she realized life could be mercurial, so you’d better live it to the fullest while you could.
It didn’t help matters that Pippa had been out of the country, traveling for work, leaving Clementine to feel all the more rudderless. After a few weeks of spinning her wheels at home, she finally reached out to her friend Isabella, formally known as the Princess Royal, who insisted they meet for dinner at Trattoria Uccelli, one of Clementine’s favorite restaurants.
The restaurant sat at the end of a high country road, flanked by cow-speckled pastures on three sides, with a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean. Grapevines, heavy with grapes; fairy lights, tangled around the trellises that bordered the front patio; and the music of ocean waves harmonized with the occasional clanging of cowbells to set a serene scene. This place always made Clementine feel like she was home, right here in Monaforte, where she belonged.
The chill of autumn was upon them, but they decided to dine on the terrace since a large stone outdoor fire pit afforded them enough warmth to remain cozy. The black-clad waiter brought them each a cosmopolitan while they perused their menus and caught up.
“I haven’t seen you since Pippa’s birthday bash,” Isabella said. As always, she was impeccably put together with a gorgeous black leather biker jacket, matching leather pants, and killer spiky black heels. Her long dark hair framed her beautiful heart-shaped face and emphasized sparkling blue eyes.
“Yeah, well, a lot happened since that night,” Clem said as she took a swig of her drink.
Isabella cocked an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“Let’s get our orders in and then I’ll dish.”
Just as Clementine finished ordering pasta and a salad, some movement caught her eye in a cozy nook in the back of the garden, where there were a few tables tucked away so that diners wishing for more privacy could enjoy solitude.
She nodded her head in the direction of the couple she was finally able to see, as long as she craned her neck far enough to the right.
“Is that who I think it is?” she asked Isabella as she scrunched her nose.
Her friend squinted for a moment; then her mouth opened. “Good God,” she said. “I think it actually is.”
“Your aunt and uncle?”
Isabella nodded. “Zia Elisabetta, and Zio Peter. Together. Again,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Wow, that’s weird. I thought they’d given up on these futile reunions by now.”
“Should you go say hi to them?” Clem said. “She is your mother’s sister, after all.”
Her friend shook her head. “Hell no! I’m not getting near the two of them. Those two have had the most tempestuous relationship going for nearly a quarter century now. It’s the stuff of family lore, their Christmas day, 1995, crapstorm: she literally picked up the roasted turkey from a platter and hurled it at him. Honey, if they’re choosing to be lovers, not fighters for the moment, far be it from me to get in the middle of that scene.”
Clementine’s eyes bugged open. “Seriously? She lobbed a roasted turkey? In front of her children?”
“In front of her children, in front of us, in front of the staff. It was nuts. They were screaming and yelling and my mother was trying to intervene to stop her sister, but Elisabetta would have none of that. Poor Sebastian’s little angelic face was just a smear of tears as he curled up beneath the table and sobbed. He wouldn’t even let my mother hold him.”
Clementine felt a tiny tug on her heart. She had a soft spot for children, and with the idea of a scared little boy not knowing why his parents were behaving so horribly, she couldn’t imagine how devastating that must have been for him. Which would sure explain his commitment-phobia, even though he clearly took it to an extreme, considering she wasn’t exactly seeking an oath of fidelity from the man to start with.
“Yeesh,” she said. “Why such a big brouhaha?”
Isabella waved her hands dismissively. “I’m sure at the time I was too young to ‘get’ why, but given what I know of their history now, I’d imagine that that time it was because he was cheating on her.”
“But wasn’t she the one who was caught in the dreaded toe-sucking incident?” Clem shuddered. “I’m sorry, but sucking on her toes? Blech.”
Her friend shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s an amazingly erotic sensation, but I sure wouldn’t be first in line to put my mouth anywhere near anyone’s foot.”
“And that’s saying a mouthful,” Clem said.
The two of them burst out laughing.
“But I’m pretty sure Zio Peter is responsible for the decline of their romance,” she said. “He was a very handsome man, used to having women at his beck and call when he married my zia. The rumor was he had quite the wandering eye.”
“I’d throw a turkey at him too, then,” Clementine said. “So the Italian businessman with the foot fetish? Was this a revenge thing?”
Isabella nodded. “Of course, in time I have come to learn these things. Yes, I think my Zio Peter has always been the love of her life, but she was so hurt by what he did.”
“Was it something serious with him? Or just a little piece on the side?”
“Who’s to say serious or not? Even if it wasn’t to him, of course it was to her. She was a young bride, a very young bride, in fact, who very much loved her husband, and she was devastated that in her eyes it had all been a sham.”
“But was it a sham?”
Isabella lifted her hands palm up and shrugged. “I don’t think so. When they weren’t battling like warring countries, they were all over each other. I do remember that. But then they’d fight and it would practically make the palace walls rattle. Which was stressful for anyone who was subjected to it.”
“What’s he doing here anyway?” Clem asked. “I thought he lived in Paris and famously never came back to Monaforte after they split up that last time.”
“For that matter, what’s she doing here? Last I heard, my zia was hooking up with some Italian media magnate and living in Rome.”
Whatever they were doing then and there, they were doing it together no less. Looking awfully cozy, for that matter.
Clementine thought about their son with his obvious attachment issues, thanks to his estranged parents. “Poor Sebastian,” she said with a frown.
Isabella steepled her fingers in front of her face and tipped her head forward, cocking her eyebrow. “About that,” she said. “I was going to ask you what happened between you and sailor boy. I had lunch with Pippa before she left for Africa this last time, and she hinted that something had, um, transpired.”
Clem pursed her lips. “Yeah, right,” she said. “Transpired seems a clinical enough description of it all.”
Of course, Clementine faile
d to mention that when things happened in real time, they were anything but clinical.
“Then embellish. Just to amuse me.”
Clementine shook her head. “I’m not sure I can tell you what exactly ‘transpired.’ At first it seemed like we had this great connection, but then he made it abundantly clear that it was a hookup.”
Isabella frowned. “And is that what you’d call it?”
“If I was to be totally honest, yeah, sure. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Kind of an impulse buy. One he regretted purchasing, it seems, but I was willing to see how it fit.”
“So you wanted it to be more than that?”
Clementine heaved a sigh. “I have no damned idea what I wanted from it,” she said. “I mean you know me, Bella. I’m hardly the walk-of-shame poster child. It’s just not me. But Sebastian and I just hit it off so instantly. And then we had to get away from Pips and Topher to let nature take its course there, so we went to this wild bar and I’m afraid I let my hair down a bit more than usual.”
Bella winced. “How bad was it?”
Clem pursed her lips. “Pretty bad.”
“Bad as in hope-to-God-it-doesn’t-end-up-on-the-Internet bad?”
Clementine let out a short laugh. “Oh yeah. And then some. I mean we’re talking complete and thorough lack of judgment.”
“Do you regret it?”
Clementine paused for a minute. “Do I regret it?” She drummed her fingers on the table for half a minute. “Um, in one way, yes. But in another way, no. I mean, am I super proud that I was pretty much naked in front of a bunch of drunken holidaymakers on a party sailboat in the Caribbean with a super hot guy licking my body? Probably not so much.”
Isabella’s eyes grew wide. “Ho-ly crap. You’re kidding, right?”
Her friend shook her head slowly. “If only.”
“Naked?”
“Just about,” Clem said. “I’d gone topless to jump off the top of the boat into the water,” she said. “It’s a rule there, you know?”
“A rule?” Bella said. “Says who? This reminds me of my mother, always repeating ‘if someone tells you to jump off a bridge, do you?’”
“Maybe so,” Clem said. “But she didn’t have Sebastian Chevalier’s hot tongue on her or she’d have changed her tune.”
Isabella’s mouth hung open. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you, Clementine. You’ve always been the sensible one in the group. You don’t even ever get stinking drunk, always wanting to wake early to go running.”
Clementine nodded. “I know, right? It’s so weird. But something just took over my senses. I think it was like that ‘what happens in Vegas’ syndrome. Only not in Vegas. I hardly thought about it twice.”
“But you’re sure no one knew who you were? I mean there’s no way this could come back to haunt you here, right?”
Clementine cringed. Did she tell her about Zander, or just let that one go? She trusted that Isabella’s brother would keep his mouth shut. He had no reason to out Clem.
She shook her head. “It’s all good, Bell. Never you worry. It’s all in the past.”
Chapter Ten
They were sharing a chocolate soufflé for dessert when Clementine noticed Sebastian’s parents making out at their table.
“Pssst,” she hissed to Isabella. “Don’t look now, but speaking of PDAs.” She tipped her head to the right, directing Isabella’s attention toward the back, where her aunt and uncle were actively making out and groping one another.
“Jeez, I hope she can breathe with him sticking his tongue down her throat so aggressively,” Isabella said with a giggle. “Although now that I know the whole sordid tale of your little tête-a-tête, theirs seems downright tame by comparison.”
“Well, yeah, except she’s the queen’s sister and there is some sort of royal protocol about public groping, at least with the inner circle of The Firm, isn’t there?”
The Firm was an insider’s term referring to the royal family.
“Technically, maybe,” Isabella said. “But my Zia Elisabetta never quite followed royal decorum to a T. She’s always been a little mercurial, that one.”
“I bet it gives your mother fits.”
She shrugged. “I think my mother gave up on fretting over her sister’s behavior years ago. It was all she could do to keep her own unruly offspring in line.”
Clementine laughed, knowing as she did that Isabella and her brothers famously challenged their mother at every pass. Half the time Clem’s brother Darcy, Adrian’s best friend, piled on with the rest of her kids.
Clementine excused herself to go to the restroom, leaving her credit card with Isabella to settle up the check.
Just as she entered the private bathroom and closed the door behind her, she heard someone enter the powder room area, humming a tune.
She started to sing in a soft voice. “I’m in heaven.”
Clem sat on the toilet, biting her lips and flaring her nostrils, desperately holding back a giggle, not knowing whether to pretend she wasn’t there or to come out and just act as if nothing had happened.
She knew Isabella would wonder where she was and come in after her, so she finally flushed and opened the door to see none other than Sebastian’s mother before her, freshening up at the mirror and putting a final swipe of lipstick on.
Clementine glanced over and saw a very beautiful, very fat emerald on Elisabetta’s ring finger reflected in the mirror. She tried not to look surprised as she moved past her to the next sink to wash her hands, and the two exchanged polite bathroom smiles.
The woman pressed her hands down her dress to straighten herself up, ran her fingers through her hair to comb out any rogue tangles, and then gave her boobs a little push up for emphasis before leaving the powder room. Clem about burst out laughing. She gave it a minute before returning to her table, but when she did, she was most surprised to see Isabella engrossed in conversation with none other than both her aunt and uncle.
“Zia Elisabetta, Zio Peter, this is my good friend Clementine Squires-Thornton,” she said, making the introduction.
Her aunt’s eyes lit up. “Ah, Lady Clementine,” she said. “You’re Charlotte’s daughter?”
Clem was taken aback that she knew who she was and nodded.
“Your mother and I were in boarding school together many years ago,” she said. “She was a mischievous one. That is, until your father Hubert tamed her.”
Clementine silently gulped. So her mother was mischievous, was she? Although likely she didn’t go so far as to have a near-stranger licking shots off her mostly unclothed body at a seedy beach bar. Isabella practically said as much to her with the exaggerated wink she gave her.
“Zia, do I see something unusual on your left hand?”
Elisabetta splayed her fingers out to show them. “A little bauble from Peter,” she said with a grin as he leaned over and kissed her.
Isabella smiled. “Am I allowed to ask: a little bauble or a gorgeous engagement ring?”
“I’m going to make an honest woman of your zia,” Peter said, rubbing his hands together as if he’d just sealed a profitable business deal. Which was awfully awkward for Clementine, because she wasn’t supposed to be in on the history of these two. But then again, they weren’t in on the history of her and their son, so all was fair in love and war.
Isabella arched her brow. “So the two of you,” she said, pointing first at her then at him, “are going to have at it again? After all this time?”
“I finally convinced the man what a fool he’d been all these years,” her aunt said with a coy smile.
“You know I could never resist Elisabetta’s charms for long,” he said, reaching for her hand and placing a tender kiss on her palm. It was rather endearing and old-fashioned.
“Indeed,” Isabella said. “Well, in that case, please let me be the first to offer my most sincere congratulations. I wish you both the best. Have you broken the news to Sebastian and the others?”
Her aunt shook her head. “Sebastian is off on a sailboat in the Caribbean, so we haven’t spoken to him yet. And the twins are finishing up at university, and I’m sure they can’t be bothered with their parents’ drama.” Elisabetta used air quotes on that last word.
Drama being the understatement of the year, what with the turkey toss and all.
“So are you planning a long engagement? Maybe get to know each other a bit?” Isabella winked at them and smiled, clearly having fun playing with them.
Clementine took a sip of her water as they all stood there, chatting somewhat awkwardly.
“Maybe we’ll run off to the Caribbean and have a quickie wedding on Necker Island. I hear they’ve got a luxurious sailboat we could use.”
Clementine about spit her water all over the woman on that one. Here’s hoping they’d not make a stop on the Willy-T while there. She tried to suppress the image of Sebastian’s parents engaged in belly shots. Granted the two of them looked fabulously young for their ages. He had a full head of dark hair and nary a wrinkle on his beautiful, suntanned face. His sea-green eyes reminded Clementine of the ocean waters in the BVI. Hmmm, maybe it wasn’t a good thing to look into the eyes of the father of the man you had a one-night stand with and be reminded of him. Not that Sebastian looked like his father. His mother looked like an older—and female—version of him, with blonde, highlighted, soft ochre hair and coppery-brown eyes.
“I vote for a wedding right here in Monaforte,” Isabella said. “After all, I didn’t have the opportunity to attend your first one. Besides, I hear that part of the Caribbean is attracting some seedy behavior these days.” She glanced at Clementine whose face turned bright red.
“Everything all right, dear?” Sebastian’s mother said to her. “You suddenly look as if you might be ill.”
Shame of Thrones Page 4
