She decided to change the subject. “While we’re all still here, I wanted to give you some good news. The Carrera charity raised enough funds to pay the work crew’s final bill for renovating the Santa Duomo Maria Church that was damaged during the last earthquake. Piero e Figli have done a remarkable job.”
“Their work has always been excellent,” her mother murmured. “That’s my favorite church in the city.”
“Mine, too, Mamma. The frescoes are priceless. I just hope more funds keep coming in to start work on some of the other buildings since we can’t dip into the treasury.”
“Absolutely not.” So spoke her father whose voice sounded stronger since her capitulation.
“Then I’ll see all of you at dinner tonight.”
Fausta shook her head. “I’ll be eating in town with Mia.”
Her best friend, Mia, a nurse at the Hospital of the Three Crosses, was on Fausta’s fund-raising committee. But Fausta was spending more and more time in town with her. Donetta figured there was a compelling reason why she hadn’t been around much lately. Fausta continued to meet new men along with Mia, and Donetta had promised to keep it a secret from their parents.
In turmoil over Enrico’s disappearance from her life and now her parents’ insistence that she marry Arnaud, Donetta gave her parents a kiss and left the dining room.
Dispirited, she headed to the south wing of the fifteenth-century palace, where all the offices were located. She had her own office next to the room where their legislature met. But she was often away from the palace doing fund-raising and goodwill tours.
When she was gone, she relied on her secretary, Talia, to run the daily business, bring in the mail and do odd jobs in her absence. Talia, a married brunette in her thirties with two children, nodded to her as she entered the room.
“You’ve received something important in the mail this morning. It’s stamped top priority and it’s from the country of Vallefiore, Your Highness.”
CHAPTER TWO
JUST HEARING THE name Vallefiore brought Donetta close to a faint. Since seeing her last month, had Enrico decided to write to her anyway? Why? After his cruel silence over the years, did he think she’d welcome a letter at this late date?
But her curiosity got the best of her and her hand trembled as she reached for the envelope. It took a moment before the pounding of her heart calmed down. After sitting in her swivel chair, she noticed it had been addressed to Princess Donetta Rossiano of the Domodossola National Equestrian Association. Donetta had been in charge of it since she’d stopped performing at twenty-one.
Inside was an official invitation from Prince Giovanni di Montedoro, head of the Vallefiore National Equestrian Association.
Not Enrico?
Her heart fell.
Prince Giovanni was always at the concorsos with their federation, but until last month she’d never seen Enrico with him since their competitive days. This invitation was announcing an international concorso covering the last two days of August, a month from now.
She, along with other invited royals, was to be a special guest of King Nuncio and Queen Teodora, and sit in their box for the events, followed by dinner and a spectacular fireworks presentation by the lake.
Donetta was absolutely amazed. Their country had never sponsored a concorso before. Once again her heart pounded unnaturally hard as she took in the information. Entrants from ten to twenty-one years of age would be competing in the capital city of Saracene, the location of the royal palace.
Her thoughts went back to her first competition in England at the age of ten. Donetta had won all the events in her age group on her British thoroughbred, Luna, a young mare her father had purchased for her. Luna’s pedigree dated back to Eclipse, the famous race horse from the Windsor Great Park era. How she’d loved that horse and Enrico’s!
She’d found out Enrico rode a fabulous Sanfratellano horse from his country, a breed that had existed in some form for centuries. In the Middle Ages the Arabian breed became popular among the Norman nobility, having been preferred by the Saracens who ruled Sicily and other nearby islands like Vallefiore until the eleventh century.
Enrico rode a high-spirited horse from that breed, which in past times could bear the weight of a fully armored knight. In the mountainous islands of the Ionian Sea region, he’d told her, a battle horse’s strength was often more important than a lighter horse’s speed.
Receiving this invitation from Enrico just after leaving the dining room where her parents had begged her to give Arnaud a chance to settle on an official engagement pained her terribly. Did Enrico want to apologize to her this badly? She didn’t get it.
Memories ran through her mind. That day when he’d helped her down from her horse because they’d been riding bareback, he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her so thoroughly she’d never wanted him to stop.
It had been the thrill of her young life and his image had been burned into her heart and memory. But apparently that moment hadn’t meant the same thing to him. Kiss the lovesick girl and sow his wild oats before settling down with Valentina, was that it?
Maybe he’d fallen for someone else he’d met at the university. Or possibly some beauty he’d come across during his travels. Or maybe the answer lay in the simple fact that his youthful, heated feelings for her had abated and he hadn’t wanted to take that two-week vacation with her after all.
Donetta would always have questions that would eat her alive if she didn’t learn the truth. Maybe she’d get the answers if she attended this concorso.
“Talia? Will you please send a message to Prince Giovanni that our equestrian association plans to accept. There’s no time like today to start contacting the association staff and participants from around the country to make travel and lodging arrangements.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”