The Bride of Montefalco

Though Ally had buried her husband two months ago, she’d needed this day to come if she were ever to find closure. Yet at the same time she’d been dreading it because it meant getting painful facts instead of wallowing in useless conjecture.

“Who was she?”

“A thirty-four-year-old married female from Italy named Donata Di Montefalco.”

Finally the woman had a name and a background.

“The Italian authorities have informed me she was the wife of the Duc Di Montefalco, a very wealthy, prominent aristocrat from a town of the same name near Rome. According to the police investigating the case, her husband has had his own people searching for her all these months.”

“Naturally,” Ally whispered. Had he been in love with his wife? Or had his marriage been unraveling like Ally’s?

Though the detective had never said the words, she knew he suspected her husband of having been unfaithful. So had Ally who’d known her marriage was breaking down but hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Jim had changed so much from the seemingly devoted family man she’d first married, she’d slowly fallen out of love with him though she wasn’t able to pinpoint the exact moment it happened.

During the latter part of their two and half year marriage she’d seen signs that something was wrong. The long absenses from home because of his work, the lack of passion in his lovemaking when he did come home, his disinterest in her life when he made brief, unsatisfactory phone calls home, his desire to put off starting a family until he was making more money.

Despite the fact that there was still no definitive proof of an affair, this news gave added credence to her suspicions.

A fresh stab of pain assailed her. She needed to get out of his office to grieve in private.

Though she’d already had two months to absorb the fact that he hadn’t died alone, a part of her had hoped the other woman would have been middle-aged. Possibly an older woman he’d given a lift to because of the storm. But this latest information put that myth to rest. It increased her turmoil that she hadn’t loved him as much as she should have, otherwise why hadn’t she confronted him before it was too late?

“Thank you for calling me in, Lieutenant.” Any second now and she was going to lose control. Living in denial was the worst thing she could have done. Her guilt worsened to recognize she hadn’t fought harder to recapture the love that had brought them together in the first place.

“I appreciate what you’ve done to help me.”

She got up to leave. He walked her to the door of his office.

“I’m sorry I had to call you in and remind you of your loss all over again. But I promised to let you know when I had any more information.

“Here’s hoping that in the months to come, you’ll be able to put this behind you and move on.”

Move on? a voice inside her cried hysterically. How did you do that when your husband had died at the lowest ebb in your marriage?

How did you function when your dreams for a happy life with him were permanently shattered?

The detective eyed her with compassion. “Would you like me to walk you out to your car?”

“No thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll be all right.”

She hurried out of his office and down the hall to the front door of the police station.

Dear God—how was it possible things had ended like this? Nothing was resolved. If anything, she was riddled with new questions.

Her thoughts darted to the woman’s husband. He would have only just learned his wife’s body had been found and identified. Besides months of suffering since her disappearance and now this loss, he had to be wondering about Jim’s importance in Donata’s life.

Wherever the Duc Di Montefalco was at this moment, Ally knew he was in hell.

She could relate…

“Uncle Gino? How come we’re going to stay at your farm for a while?

Rudolfo Giannino Fioretto Di Montefalco, known only to his family and a few close friends as Gino, eyed his eleven-year-old niece through the rearview mirror. The girl sat next to Marcello, Gino’s elder brother.

“Because it’s summer. I thought you and your father would enjoy getting out in nature instead of being cooped up in the palazzo.”

“But what if Mama comes back and we’re not there?”

Gino braced himself. The dreaded moment had come.

He pulled up to the side of the farmhouse. In the dying rays of the sun, the cypress trees formed spokes across the yellowed exterior.

He turned in his seat to make certain Sofia was holding her father’s hand. Since Marcello had been stricken with Alzheimer’s and could no longer talk, it was one of the ways she could express her love and hope to feel his in return.

“I have something to tell you, sweetheart.”

A full minute passed. In that amount of time the color had drained from his niece’s face. “What is it?” she asked in a tremulous voice. The strain of going months without knowing anything about her mother had robbed Sofia of any joie de vivre.

“Sofia, I have some bad news. Your mama, she was in a car accident, and…she died.”

Four months ago in fact, but Gino had only been informed of her death last night. Today he’d been making preparations for Sofia’s move to the country with Marcello.

The details surrounding the tragedy were something neither she nor the trusted staff both at the palazzo and the farmhouse needed to know about.

His gaze took in Sofia’s pain-filled expression. When his news computed, he heard the sobs of an already heartbroken girl who buried her dark brown head against her father’s shoulder.

Marcello looked down at her, not comprehending, not able to comfort his daughter.

Gino felt her sobs from the front seat. Tears welled in his throat. Now that Donata’s body had been found and identified, the nightmare of her disappearance was over. But another one had just begun…

His motherless, already introverted niece was going to need more love and understanding than ever.

As for Gino, once he’d arranged with the priest for a private memorial service away from prying eyes so Sofia could say goodbye to her mother in private, he needed to increase security to protect his family from the press.

Carlo Santi, the region’s top police inspector and one of their family’s best friends was doing his best to stop information from the police department leaking to the various newspapers and media in Rome and elsewhere. But there were those rabid, insatiable vultures from the tabloids who invaded without mercy, always lurking to find something juicy on Gino and his family. It was the price they paid for their title and wealth.

If it weren’t for Carlo running interference for him all these months, the situation could have gotten uglier much sooner.

With the sudden debilitating onset of Marcello’s disease two years ago, Donata’s selfish streak had created havoc in his brother’s marriage, and had damaged their daughter irreparably. In Gino’s opinion, Donata had to have been one of the world’s most insensitive, neglectful wives and mothers on record.

He’d fought hard to protect his brother and niece from the worst of her flaws.

As a result he’d been forced to guard the family secrets with a certain ruthlessness that Donata enjoyed publicizing to anyone who would listen. Her indiscriminate venting had made its way to the press, casting a pall over all their lives, Gino’s in particular. Through innuendo she’d made him out to be the grasping, jealous brother-in-law who wanted her and the title for himself.

The only thing Donata hadn’t ever considered was her own death.

Once the media got wind of the accident that took her life, everything Gino had done to keep family matters private was about to become a public scandal. The fact that an American man close to Donata’s age had been driving the car when they’d been killed provided the kind of fodder to cause a paparazzi frenzy. This kind of story would sell millions of papers with far reaching consequences for Sofia. His niece could be destroyed by the facts, let alone the malicious rumors surrounding them.