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churn with nervous tension. When she had made the trip to Sardinia it hadn’t crossed her mind that Cesario would want his baby. Maybe she had been wrong to assume that every man was as unreliable as her father, she thought heavily. She had expected Cesario to argue against having a DNA test. And if it had been proved that he was Sophie’s father the most she had hoped for was that he would offer her a small allowance to help with the cost of bringing up his child.
    Reluctantly acknowledging that she had no choice, Beth followed the butler up the stairs. Sophie was hers, she assured herself. Mel had appointed her as the baby’s guardian. But would a court decide that Sophie’s father had more right to bring her up than a guardian? She paused as a wave of dizziness swept over her and grabbed the banister rail for support. Her legs felt wobbly and she could not seem to draw enough oxygen into her lungs.
    It was the same feeling she’d experienced a few times before, when she’d had to climb the five flights of stairs up to her flat because the lift in the tower block had been vandalised yet again. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. There was no point in worrying about anything at the moment. Nothing could be decided until the results of the DNA test were known.
    The nursery was at the end of a long passageway on the second floor. Beth had guessed that it would simply be a guest bedroom furnished with a cot, for the use ofany visitors to the castle with a baby. She certainly had not expected this , she thought in astonishment when Teodoro ushered her into the room.
    Spacious and airy, the room was painted a delicate primrose-yellow which complemented the pale oak furniture. A beautiful antique cot stood in the centre of the room and a maid was adjusting the exquisite cream lace bedding. She looked round when Beth entered the room and stared curiously at Sophie, before Teodoro spoke to her in Italian and she quickly left the room.
    ‘Carlotta will bring you anything you need. Just pull on this rope here to call her,’ he explained to Beth.
    ‘Thank you.’ She walked slowly across the cream velvet carpet and paused in front of a wooden rocking horse. She had seen pictures of luxurious nurseries like this one in glossy magazines featuring houses owned by wealthy celebrities. Everything here was the finest quality. But this room had not been designed as a showpiece. She sensed that love had gone into the creation of this nursery, and as she looked down at Sophie, who was asleep in her arms, an unexpected feeling of peace swept over her.
    ‘It’s a beautiful room,’ she said softly. Something about the nursery puzzled her. Maybe it was simply her imagination, but she felt a presence that she could not explain. She glanced at the butler. ‘It feels as though a child used to sleep here not that long ago.’
    ‘It was Signor Piras’s son’s room.’
    Beth could not hide her shock. His son! ‘So, is Mr Piras married? Do his wife and son live at the castle?’
    ‘Not any longer.’ Teodoro gave her a brief nod. ‘If there is nothing else, signorina , then I will leave you. The door over there leads to an adjoining bedroom, which has beenprepared for you. I will have your bags sent up as soon as they arrive.’
    Evidently the subject of Cesario’s wife and child was not something the butler was prepared to discuss, but Beth had dozens of questions she longed to ask and felt a surge of frustration as Teodoro departed from the nursery. She wished she had been able to discover more about Cesario before she’d left England. He was the head of one of Italy’s largest banks and she had expected to find a detailed profile about him on the internet. But all she’d unearthed was one paragraph explaining his family history and the fact that the Piras and Cossu banks had merged a few years ago. Cesario’s personal life had not been mentioned, and it was a shock to now discover that he was married. Where