Page 48

* * *

Gabe was numb.

The funeral was held in the cappella Rinaldi, the family chapel in the palazzo grounds, and the press were kept well away. The new Conte di Sant Lavia did his diligent duty and read the eulogy in a deep even tone, refusing to break even when he spoke of the tragedy that had befallen the family.

Then his grandfather was interred, and Gabe saw the engravings for his parents and sister, and even his own.

Gabriel Rinaldi.

Tonight, when the stonemason added his grandfather’s date of death to the marble, Gabriel’s title would be added to his name. A title he did not want, yet his grandfather had wanted the legacy to go on…

Outside the chapel, still he did not drop his guard or show emotion, just accepted the condolences of the mourners one by one.

Dignitaries, along with distant relatives, and the staff who had loved him too.

‘Condoglianze…’ Signoria Maria said, her face wet with tears. ‘I will miss him so much. He was so happy that you were back, how he laughed that last night.’

All tried to reminisce, and he did not want to do that, not today, not any day…

Donatella, who embraced his rigid body too tightly, her musky perfume clinging even as he pulled back.

‘Condoglianze,’ she said.

‘Grazie.’

‘Let me know if you need anything.’

He nodded politely but she did not move on.

‘Don’t be alone. I mean it, Gabriel. If I can do anything…’

God, but she’d get down on her knees here and now should he ask.

He would not be asking!

Donatella left him cold. In fact, even with her husky voice and emotional tone and the black handkerchief she dabbed on her cheeks, there wasn’t a trace of tears in her cold, soulless eyes.

He wasn’t intimidated by cold, ruthless people. After all, Gabe was one himself.

‘Grazie,’ he said, and his eyes moved away to the next mourner, effectively telling Donatella to please move along.

‘Condoglianze….’

Over and over, condolences were offered, but then the safety of numbness was shaken.

‘My deepest condolences…’ He looked up at the sound of the English voice and recognised Sir Charles, and he glanced to the next person in line, felt a flare of hope, but then saw that it wasn’t Stella.

He hadn’t been expecting her to come.

Of course not.

Gabe hadn’t even been expecting Sir Charles to be here today.

Yet, even though it was nice of him to be here, there was a curious disappointment that he had come alone.

And Stella would have brought comfort. His mind did not dart to the crude mocking thoughts he’d just had about Donatella.

More, on this most difficult day, her soft voice, her smile, to sit at the stone terrazzo table, as they had the other week, and reminisce.