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Elsie, her heart twisting in her chest at the visible distress, reached out and placed a warm hand over the other woman’s cold ones and squeezed gently, the little dog’s warm body pressed between them.

‘S…sorry for the drama… You will think I’m foolish but it just always felt to me…those gates…like I was entering a prison and then,’ she added with a shudder, ‘the doors close.’

Elsie glanced over her shoulder just as the gates in question did close. ‘I see what you mean. I don’t know about you, but I am going to make sure I have the key.’ Glad that her comment seemed to have lessened the other woman’s tension, she turned her gaze to Leandro. His dark eyes were trained on her, a disturbing but indecipherable expression in the dark depths.

‘It’s a keycard these days, ancient and modern complementing each other. We don’t keep beautiful birds in cages these days, they can fly free if they want to.’

He was giving her an escape route, or maybe just hoped she’d take it. Elsie did not know how to react, let alone respond to the unspoken message.

‘Oh, my goodness! Sabina… Agnes…! The girls…!’

Beside her, the older woman had come to life, clapping her hands and leaning forward in her seat, her eyes trained on a group of women standing outside on the flower-backed cobbled courtyard.

‘Your stop, Mother, I think,’ Leandro said, smiling when the convoy of vehicles came to a halt.

His mother almost threw herself out of the vehicle, the little dog at her heels yelping excitedly as they were both swiftly enfolded in hugs. Elsie was glad that Queen Sophia didn’t just have bad memories here, she had some friends too.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, belatedly realising that the car had moved off and the Dowager was waving, looking so much more relaxed that Elsie smiled and waved back with both hands.

Then she saw Leandro was watching her and stopped, tacking on a grumpy, ‘What?’

‘I just love your enthusiasm.’ Also, the bounce of her breasts.

She called him a rude name and put out her tongue and the crinkles around his eyes deepened as a mechanised female voice told him he had unfastened his seatbelt. He swore and ignored it.

‘Gosh, that sounded rude.’

‘It was, but the computer only speaks English.’

Her gaze was drawn to the window. ‘It seemed like your mother is staying in another city, let alone the same building.’

He nodded, appreciative of her comment. ‘You’ll get used to the geography of the place. The Palace is a bit of a rabbit warren, partly because for centuries my ancestors insisted on putting their own stamp on the place, another wing, another folly—several follies,’ he corrected drily. ‘On a plan, my…our wing is adjacent to my mother’s, and internally it is, but negotiating luggage through side doors and half stairs…the access externally is easier for us from the eastern gate. This,’ he added with a flourish, ‘is the eastern gate.’

There was no gate, just a warm stone arch that was softened by a thick covering of wisteria and roses. The area they entered now was a courtyard similar to the one they had left the Dowager in, but this one was filled with parterre hedges and fountains. Another arch revealed open hills and the sea, effectively bringing nature right up to the edge of the historic building.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Very different to her own home, and not just because there were no falling-down walls or patches of weeds, but it was the space and the connection to nature…the freedom it represented in a city environment. ‘What a marvellous place this must have been for a child to grow up in.’

His expression closed off, his eyelashes providing an effective shield, and when he spoke the words seemed forced.

‘Not particularly, though I suppose it had its moments, few enough to be memorable.’

Was that despised self-pity coating the bitterness in his voice?

Was that pity swimming in her cobalt-blue eyes?

The questions in his head horrified him and sparked resentment aimed at the person who had caused his never explain philosophy on life to fail.

‘I suppose you had the perfect childhood?’

During the short silence, he watched her jaw tense, emotions flickering like a flame in the breeze before her lips stretched into a firm smile.

‘Pretty good.’

He opened his mouth to mock the fact that she wasn’t her usual upbeat self when he remembered a margin note in the bio he’d read headed Hospitalised. The details had been sparse, just a couple of dates.

‘You were ill?’

Her eyes slid from his. ‘I got better.’ She released a relieved silent sigh when he didn’t push it.