Page 21 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8

‘Well, yes, but that was passion of the most toxic kind. And by the end of their marriage they hated each other.’

‘It’s still selfish.’

‘But it can be quiet, supportive and enduring.’

His eyes narrowed. Despite the heat of the day, he was suddenly feeling a little chilly. ‘You sound as though you speak from experience.’

She shook her head and averted her gaze but not before he caught a glimpse of something that intensified that chill. ‘You only have to look at your mother to see it.’

‘My mother?’ he asked, more baffled than ever. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘She loved your father.’

His pulse leapt but he ignored it. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘That’s what she told me.’

‘Theirs was a marriage of convenience.’

‘Not for her.’

‘You must be mistaken.’ She had to be. Because if she wasn’t, then that meant his father had lied every time he’d hammered home the importance of the head ruling the heart, and that simply wasn’t possible.

‘Perhaps you should ask her.’

Now why would he do that when she’d only just begun to get over his father’s death?

He loved his mother. He didn’t want to set her back.

He had briefly questioned the depth of her grief, of course, but they’d been married for thirty-five years.

Naturally she was going to miss him. However, familiarity was all that was.

A successful royal marriage didn’t involve love, and theirs had been the epitome of success.

‘Absolutely not,’ he said, refusing to give Sofia’s preposterous theory any credence whatsoever, because if he did, everything he believed to be true would crumble to dust and where would that leave him?

Floundering around, confused and helpless and dropping so many balls that his country would suffer the consequences?

Not on his watch. ‘We don’t discuss that sort of thing. Besides, I’m not wrong about this.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so,’ he said with a grind of his teeth. He was right about everything. Always had been, always had to be, always would be. Sofia knew the score. She was just messing with his head, for some perverted reason.

Nevertheless, all this talk of love was curdling his stomach so violently he felt as though he were about to throw up.

He didn’t want to think about his ex. Or his parents’ marriage.

He was the one supposed to be digging beneath her surface, not the other way round.

Although, that now didn’t seem a wise course of action at all.

In fact, it seemed deeply unwise, because for some unfathomable reason he didn’t want to know what she was hiding any longer.

What he did want was to get the hell out of here and surround himself with other, infinitely less confusing people.

But that would invite more questions to which he wouldn’t have the answers, so instead he banked everything but the attraction that still burned like fire.

He raked his gaze over her and welcomed with open arms the resulting surge of heat.

It was preferable to continuing the ludicrous conversation they’d been having.

‘A swim in the river before lunch?’

‘I didn’t bring a costume.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said, taking her elbow and guiding her back inside to collect the picnic things en route. ‘You won’t need one.’

Ivo did not like talking about love, Sofia thought, trying to keep up as he took her on a route march to the river.

That much was clear. And before today she’d never have brought it up, because what would be the point in a marriage of pure convenience?

Why would she deliberately set herself up for pain by acknowledging she cared?

But something had changed since breakfast. Something that made her not bury her curiosity but embrace it. Something that made her wonder if she couldn’t use that curiosity to try and change his mind about love without it hurting at all.

It had occurred to her, as he’d shown her around the castle, whether there might be more behind his determination to continually deny romance than a lack of time and an abhorrence of drama.

After all, a decade had passed since his ex-girlfriend’s betrayal.

Surely he’d have got over it by now, if that was all it was.

Its lingering effects made more sense, then, if the wound he’d suffered was an emotional one.

One which had cut deep and lacerated his heart as well as his pride.

Under those circumstances, she could absolutely understand why he might want to protect himself at all costs.

And now the questions that ricocheted around her brain were: Was there any getting past it? S hould she even try?

This morning she would have said definitely not.

She shouldn’t even want to. She knew what this arrangement was about.

He reminded her of it often enough, and she had no intention of risking her heart for nothing.

But now she couldn’t help wondering whether there wasn’t nothing, but something .

Whether, if she did have any expectations, they might actually not be unreasonable.

She kept thinking about the moment on the terrace when he’d revealed the pressure he was under.

The regret in his voice when he’d told her they were who they were and there was no point wishing otherwise.

Deep down, did he know it wasn’t a binary choice but that he was simply afraid of being hurt again?

And if that was the case, what if she could show him that he had nothing to fear from her?

That he could have both work and her without it resulting in drama and distraction?

What if she could show him that they could serve the monarchy and the people and have love and romance too?

That it didn’t have to be a zero sum game.

Sofia knew these were unwise thoughts. They loosened the ropes that kept her safe and opened her up to heartbreak and pain. However, her feelings, which swelled and deepened with every new facet of himself he revealed, were increasingly hard to contain. They were beginning to overwhelm her.

But if the risk of chaos and devastation wasn’t as great as she’d always believed, maybe she had nothing to fear from setting them free.

And if there was even the tiniest flicker of hope that he might one day be able to return her love, maybe, instead of fighting to keep it to herself, she ought to reveal it.

Not in words, of course. It was far too soon for that and, given the assumptions he’d made about her and his attitude towards his ex, he might consider it a lie by omission.

He might feel deceived, possibly even betrayed.

But perhaps she could unwrap her feelings subtly.

Through her actions. She could start by opening up a little in the hope that he might reciprocate, step by tiny step, until after a while, with any luck, he started to see her in a different light.

She wouldn’t expect immediate results, of course. She wasn’t a complete fantasist. This would likely take a long time. It was certainly a strategy with an uncertain outcome and if she’d got this all wrong, she’d suffer rejection more painful than any she’d endured at the hands of her parents.

However, she didn’t think she was wrong.

She thought that deep down he wanted all the things that she did.

She thought that, if he could get over his fears and allow himself to love her as much as she loved him, they could have happiness beyond their wildest dreams. She could have everything she’d ever wanted. And so, if she was right, could he.

But first, she thought dizzily, as he stripped off and a wave of lust consumed her, she was going to do whatever it took to make sure that he didn’t get bored.

By the time they finished their late and long lunch beneath the draping, waving branches of a willow tree, Ivo was at his wits’ end. With the exception of a couple of interludes in the river, which had involved no swimming at all, ‘fun’ was not how he’d describe the afternoon.

Unnerved by their earlier discussions about love, he’d decided that he would control what they talked about over cold chicken and an array of salad.

He would not allow another foray into a topic that roiled his stomach.

Instead, he’d turned his attention to getting the answers to the questions about Sofia that had plagued him the evening before at the ball.

A deeper understanding of who she was and why would add to their partnership and strengthen the foundations of the monarchy, he was certain.

‘Tell me about your parents,’ he’d begun, deciding to start with a continuance of the conversation they’d begun in her room on their wedding night, which had been aborted by constitutional obligations and the clock.

In the process of uncapping a pot of fat green olives, Sofia had shot him a startled glance.

‘I’d rather not,’ she’d said with a grimace.

‘It’s far too beautiful a day for such a gloomy topic.

Let’s talk about something else instead.

Like… I don’t know… Any unreasonable expectations you may have.

Or who you’d be and what you’d do if you weren’t who you are. ’

God no, Ivo had thought with a shudder. What was there to say anyway?

All his expectations were entirely reasonable and, as he’d told her several times now, hypotheses were pointless.

He could not afford to indulge in such ridiculous fantasies.

Fifteen minutes of doing so on the terrace outside a ballroom was quite bad enough.

‘I’ve talked about myself ad nauseam over the past few weeks,’ he said, recalling the endless history lessons and myriad explanations he’d given her for his decisions and conduct. ‘Now it’s your turn. You wanted communication. So communicate.’