But it was just so damned hard to be here like...like this.
He dragged his gaze towards the bride and groom. Rafe was grinning as if he had just won the lottery. Poppy was smiling with such love on her face it made Raoul feel sick with envy.
He wanted to be loved like that.
Did Lily love him like that?
Could he risk finding out?
The congregation erupted with spontaneous applause as the bride and groom walked back down the aisle as husband and wife.
Raoul felt every eye on him as he wheeled down after them as part of the official bridal procession. Cameras flashed, the frenzied click of shutters sounding like a round of artillery gunfire. His image would be plastered over every paper in the country and all over Europe tomorrow. His insides churned at the thought. What had he been thinking, coming here? Remy could have done just as good a job—better, actually. At least he’d been able to stand upright.
He caught Lily’s eye as he came past her pew. She was biting her lower lip, her gaze concerned. Troubled. Uncertain.
He should never have crossed the boundary he’d crossed with her, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He had been spellbound by her feistiness, the way she stood up to him in spite of her initial reluctance to deal with him.
He forced himself to look away. He would speak to her later. When they were alone. He would ask her if she could love him like this.
If she did love him like this.
He had to know.
* * *
‘I’ve been absolutely dying to meet you.’ Poppy gave Lily a big, squishy hug. ‘Rafe’s been telling me how wonderful you’ve been for Raoul.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ Lily felt her cheeks heating.
‘He’s doing really well,’ Poppy said. ‘I can’t tell you how much it means to both of us to have him here. We thought he wouldn’t come. He was so stubborn about it initially.’
‘He can be pretty determined when he makes up his mind about something.’
Poppy gave her a conspiratorial look. ‘It’s a Caffarelli trait. Believe me; I know that first-hand. Have you met Vittorio, the grandfather?’
‘No, I saw him at the ceremony, but not to speak to.’
‘Don’t go near him. He’s out for blood. I can handle most people, but he scares the living daylights out of me.’ She gave a little shudder and then smiled widely as Rafe came over. ‘Hello, darling.’
Rafe planted a kiss to her mouth. ‘Hello, ma chérie. Is it time to leave? Please tell me it is. My face is aching from smiling so much.’
Poppy grinned as she linked her arm through one of his. ‘We’re not going anywhere until we’ve done the bridal waltz. I think I can hear the band warming up.’ She turned and smiled at Lily. ‘Will you excuse us? I think that’s our cue.’
* * *
Raoul was on to his third glass of wine when the bridal waltz started. He wasn’t interested in getting drunk or even tipsy. He wasn’t trying to mask his pain. He just wanted to block out the smiling faces.
Everyone was so damned happy.
Rafe and Poppy took the floor. They moved together like poetry in motion. Rafe looked so strong and in control, Poppy so feminine and dainty. Their footwork was in perfect tune. No toes were being crushed. No legs were suddenly collapsing.
His stomach clenched.
He would never be able to do the bridal waltz. It was like a boulder hitting him out of nowhere. It crashed against his chest, almost making him double over in pain.
He hadn’t been able to be a proper best man. How could he ever be a proper groom?
Raoul was wheeling his chair further away from the dance floor when he overheard two women talking behind one of the pillars. He stopped pushing and went very still, every muscle in his body tensing. Even his scalp pulled tight, making every hair stand up on end.
‘Is that slim dark-haired girl Raoul Caffarelli’s new mistress?’
‘Quite a change from the last one.’
‘I heard she’s his physical therapist,’ the first woman said. ‘He must be more like his grandfather than the other two boys, eh?’
Raoul felt his stomach roil. He could not think of anything worse than being compared and likened to his grandfather.
The other woman made a sound of cynical assent. ‘Sleeping with the help. Such a Vittorio thing to do. Mind you, that girl is obviously after Raoul for his money. I mean, he’s good-looking and all that, but would you really want to spend the rest of your married life pushing him around in a chair?’
Raoul’s stomach pitched again and a sickly sweat broke out over his brow.
‘It would depend on whether he could still get it up.’
The two women shared a ribald cackle that grated on Raoul’s nerves until he thought he would be physically sick.
‘For that amount of money I wouldn’t care if he couldn’t get it up. Think of the other compensations: unlimited money to burn, jewellery, designer clothes to wear and luxury holidays to indulge in, not to mention that amazing château in France. What a life.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ the other woman said. ‘No wonder she’s got her claws in him so quickly. But how would he know if she loved him or not? Mind you, he probably doesn’t care. Better to be with someone than no one when you’re disabled. Got to feel sorry for him, though. I always thought he was the nicer of the three, didn’t you?’
Raoul turned away in disgust. It was already happening. People were discussing him, talking about him, gossiping, conjecturing about him. It would be a thousand times worse once the press released all those photos of him from the ceremony.
The tragic invalid; the impotent, invalid brother.
He clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would crack. How could his life have come to this?
People mocking him, feeling sorry for him, pitying him.
Remy swaggered over with a glass of whiskey in his hand. ‘You’re not out there to see their first dance. What’s wrong with you?’
Raoul gave him a look that would have felled a three-hundred-year-old tree. ‘You’re not out there burning up the floor, either. No one taken your eye?’
‘One of the bridesmaids is cute. I think her name is Chloe, but Poppy has warned her about me. I’m not making any inroads.’
‘I feel your pain.’
Remy grinned. ‘What’s going on with you and your therapist?’
‘She’s not my therapist.’
Remy reared back as if Raoul had suddenly lunged at him with a sword. ‘Whoa there, bro. Was that a raw nerve or what?’
‘She’s going back to London the day after tomorrow.’
‘Why?’
‘Because her time is up.’
Remy frowned. ‘But she’s helped you. You’ve done better with her than anyone else. You spent weeks in rehab and got nowhere. Four weeks with her and you’re almost back on your feet. Why would you quit now?’
Raoul set his mouth. ‘I’m not back on my feet.’ Half a minute standing without support is not back on my feet. ‘I might never get back on my feet.’
‘You don’t know that. You can’t predict how you’ll be. You know what the doctors said—it’s a waiting game. It could take weeks or months or even years.’
‘That’s the whole point. I’m not prepared to wait.’
‘So you’re just going to send her away?’
‘She’s got nothing to offer me.’
‘That’s not what Dominique and Etienne say.’
Raoul narrowed his eyes to angry slits. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve been gossiping about me with the domestic staff.’ Was anyone not gossiping about him?
‘They’re not just domestic staff, they’re like family to you. They care about you.’
‘They’re n
ot paid to care about me.’
‘Neither is Lily Archer, but she cares. She cares a lot.’
‘What would you know?’ Raoul said. ‘You haven’t even met her, or at least only in passing.’
‘No, but I’ve spoken to everyone that has. She’s like Poppy—warm, sweet and generous. I can’t believe you’re such a fool to walk away from someone like that.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Raoul gave his younger brother a cutting look. ‘I can’t walk away from her. I can’t walk away from anyone.’
Remy put his whiskey glass down with a clunk. ‘You’re going to break her heart. Think very carefully before you do that.’
Raoul barked out a cynical laugh. ‘I cannot believe you are preaching to me about breaking someone’s heart. Have you taken a look at yourself lately? You haven’t been with a woman more than a week in I don’t know how long. That’s fifty-two hearts you’re breaking per year, right?’
Remy glowered at him. ‘We’re not talking about me here, we’re talking about you.’
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘We all think we know what we’re doing...’
Raoul studied his younger brother’s expression for a moment. ‘Is everything all right with you?’
‘Sure.’ Remy gave him an overly bright smile. ‘Everything’s just fine.’
‘Rafe told me you’re dealing with Henri Marchand.’
‘I’ve got it covered.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’
Raoul wasn’t so sure. There was something about Remy’s expression that alerted him to an undercurrent of worry. Henri Marchand was a sly man, ruthless and conniving. He would sell his grandmother to make a buck. The only near relative he had was his daughter, Angelique, and God only knew what the price was on her head. He only hoped Remy wasn’t the one who had to pay it. ‘If ever you need an ear...’
Remy gave him a high five. ‘I’ve got to get on the move. People to see. Deals to wheel.’
‘What? You’re not staying for the toss of the bouquet?
Remy gave a visible shudder. ‘Not my turn.’ He landed a playful punch on Raoul’s shoulder. ‘You’re next in line. Ciao.’
* * *
When Lily came back to the reception after freshening up in the ladies’ room the crowd was jostling for the bridal bouquet toss. She stayed well back in the room, pretending a disinterest that was at odds with everything inside her. She would have loved to be up there pushing and shoving in the mad grab for the bouquet. It was such a high-spirited, girly thing to do.
But she watched from the sidelines, feeling disjointed, displaced, lonely.
‘I’ve got it!’
‘No, it’s mine!’
‘Get out of my way, you fat cow, it’s mine.’
Lily moved aside as a wall of women surged towards her. She put up her hands to shield her face and suddenly found herself holding a bunch of flowers. Not just any bunch of flowers, either.
‘Oh...’
Every single female eye in the room was on her. There was a massive round of applause and loud cheering.
‘This is not meant for me.’ Lily thrust the bouquet at the nearest pair of grasping hands. ‘Excuse me...’
Raoul intercepted her as she left the reception room. His expression was dark and brooding, just like the first time she’d met him. His eyes were hard, his mouth was tight and his jaw was clenched. ‘Did you do that on purpose?’
Lily felt a nervous flutter pass through her stomach. ‘Pardon?’
‘The bridal bouquet.’ His gaze was bitter. ‘A not-so-subtle hint to get me to come to the party, so to speak.’
‘Party?’ She looked at him blankly. ‘What are you talking about?’
His mouth was so thin it looked almost cruel. ‘You thought by catching that bouquet it would prompt me to ask you to stay with me, especially with the whole crowd watching and cheering.’
Lily opened and closed her mouth. ‘What?’
‘It won’t work, Lily.’ His tone was hard, brittle, angry. ‘I’m not asking you to stay with me. I’m asking you—no, strike that, I’m telling you—to leave.’
She could barely speak for the pain his words were causing. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask her to stay but neither had she thought he would accuse her of such appallingly manipulative behaviour. Didn’t he know her at all?
‘You want me to leave, what, now?’
His expression was as cold and as hard as marble. ‘It would seem rather stupid to fly back to France for forty-eight hours. Your contract with me is over. Consider your work with me done.’
Lily swallowed a painful lump in her throat. But her pride made it terribly important not to show how devastated she was by his heartless dismissal. Surely he could have done it differently? Given her some hope. Left things open-ended.
But no, he had cut her loose.
Cancelled her.
Finished with her.
‘Right... Well, then, I guess this is goodbye.’
‘Yes.’ His answer was clipped. Decisive. Final.
Lily gave him one last smile, her bravest, unaffected, ‘my heart isn’t breaking into a thousand pieces’ smile. ‘I think you’re a really lovely person, Raoul. I hope you get better. But, even if you don’t, I want you to know that there are lots of really decent and genuine women out there who would be happy with you just the way you are.’
Something moved in his eyes. A muscle ticked in his cheek. She held her breath, wondering if he was going to change his mind.
The silence stretched...
But then an impenetrable mask came back down over his features. ‘Goodbye, Lily.’ And then he was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘HAVE YOU HEARD how the honeymooners are doing?’ Dominique asked as she poured Raoul’s coffee two weeks later.
‘They got back from Barbados yesterday.’
There was a little silence.
‘Have you heard from Mademoiselle Archer?’
He clenched his teeth. ‘No. Why should I? I’m just another client. Our time is over. She did all she could for me and it wasn’t enough.’
Dominique pursed her lips in thought. ‘Love is a funny thing. It can smack you in the face or it can slowly sneak up on you. But what you should never do is walk away from it. You might not get another chance.’
Raoul gave her a sour look. ‘Is this a veiled way of hastening your retirement? I thought you wanted to work until you were sixty.’
‘You love her. I know you do. I’m a Frenchwoman; I know about these things.’
‘You’re my housekeeper, not my life coach. I do not pay you to comment on my private life.’
‘Mademoiselle Archer doesn’t see the chair when she sees you. She just sees you, just like you see her without her scars.’
Raoul felt a lump come up in his throat. He’d been fighting this wretched loneliness for days. The château was oppressive without Lily here. The days were too long, the nights even more so. But how could he ask her to be with him? She would be signing up for a lifetime of caring.
That’s what love is all about. Caring. Commitment.
Seeing Lily catching that bouquet at Rafe and Poppy’s wedding had made him panic. He had done what he always did when he felt cornered—he had pushed back. Hard. Cruelly.
He had felt so trapped with everyone cheering and nudging each other. He’d felt claustrophobic, pressured, hemmed in at how everyone seemed to be waiting for him to come forward to claim Lily. He didn’t want to be some sort of circus pony. He wanted time to think about what he would be asking her to do.
He wanted her.
He wanted it all: the caring and the commitment, the hope of children.
He wanted Lily so muc
h it was an ache in his bones but he felt like he was going to ruin her life if he asked her to marry him.
What if she finds someone else?
His gut churned at the thought of someone else making love to her. Someone too rough and selfish, someone who wasn’t sensitive and understanding about her scars. They would destroy her confidence, her self-esteem. She would go back to being that shy, prickly girl who hid behind layers of unflattering clothes.
You love her.
Of course he loved her. He had fallen in love with her the first time he had kissed her. Something had shifted inside him. And he couldn’t shift it back. Making love with her had settled it once and for all.
He loved her and was always going to, chair or no chair.
Was it too late to ask her? Would she forgive him for pushing her away so publicly and so painfully? Everyone had been watching their interaction. He couldn’t have chosen a worse place to bring things to an end. Was that why she had kept her features so stoic? So controlled? Had he broken her heart as Remy had warned?
Was it too late to undo that damage?
He looked up at his housekeeper. ‘I’m going to London for a few days.’
Dominique beamed. ‘I’ve already packed for you.’
He tried to frown at her but he couldn’t quite pull it off. ‘You did what?’
‘I did it two weeks ago. I knew you would come to your senses. You’re a good man. The only man for Lily. She won’t be happy with anyone else and neither will you.’
* * *
Lily was filing paperwork when Valerie came into her office. ‘You should’ve left an hour ago. You don’t have to work overtime every day. You’ll burn out.’
‘I’m happy working.’ Lily closed the drawer. It distracts me. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do except sit at home and cry bucket loads of tears.
‘Has he called?’
Lily stiffened. ‘Has who called?’
‘You know who.’
She let out a rattling sigh. ‘No. He won’t. He’s too stubborn. Once he makes up his mind, that’s it. Game over.’
Never Underestimate a Caffarelli Page 15
