‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘Sometimes all we can do is our best.’
And he was man who had always made sure his best was good enough.
Picking up the cake tin, he went over and popped it into the oven. ‘As this has become a kind of interview, I too have a question I need to ask. Perhaps we could have coffee whilst the cake bakes and we can talk.’
* * *
Gabi’s head whirled as it tried to process the information he had given her about royal childhoods. Cold, damaging, miserable, sad...all those words chased each other around her head. Most of all though she wanted to offer comfort, but she knew that would not be welcomed.
‘Fire away,’ she said as the smell of the cake, the rich deep chocolate, started to pervade the kitchen.
He waited until he had made the coffee and she accepted the cup with appreciation.
‘There is something we have not spoken of,’ he said. ‘My relationships have been in the public domain, but we have never discussed your past relationships.’ He raised a hand. ‘I am not trying to pry but from a publicity angle I do need to know if any ex-suitors will come out of the woodwork.’
Gabriella shook her head. ‘I had two relationships. Both serious at the time.’ Though now, somehow the memories had faded, seemed blurred and sepia.
‘Tell me.’ The words were a touch on the curt side and for one dizzying, stupid moment Gabriella wondered if it bothered him. Then her brain told her not to be stupid. As if. Cesar didn’t care. Any more than she cared about all his exes.
Only that wasn’t true, was it? She did care, not because she was jealous, but because they made her feel inadequate. For an instant an image of his most recent girlfriend, Lady Amelia Scott-Browne, popped into her head even though she knew that Lady Amelia and Cesar had broken up some time ago. Yet Lady Amelia had been so poised, beautiful, always immaculate, elegant, versed in which knife and fork to use.
Realising that he was still waiting, she regrouped. ‘Steve and Paul.’ Resolutely she pulled them to mind. Steve—blond, blue-eyed, medium build, kind features, slightly receding hairline, sweet, average. Paul, brown-haired, hazel-eyed, craggy features, long hair, sweet, average. ‘They were both really nice guys. But somehow it didn’t pan out either time. I met Steve very soon after my aunt and uncle passed away and I was in the throes of grief and I dealt with that by throwing myself into work. I got so caught up in the book store that in the end he got frustrated. Wanted a girlfriend who had more time for him. I was sad. But I understood.’
Cesar frowned. ‘Surely he could have been supportive, understood how important it was to you.’
‘Perhaps,’ Gabriella said. ‘But I was...well, I was quite obsessed really and I should have been more willing to spend more time with him. It was the same with Paul. He wanted me to slow down. We both wanted the same things; we just had different ideas about how it would work. He assumed when we got married, I’d sell up or delegate more and I didn’t want to do that. Or at least it never quite seemed the right time. In the end they both moved on.’
‘But you loved them both.’
Gabriella looked back into the past. Had she loved them? ‘I genuinely believed we matched; were on the same page, could bring up children together and have a normal, happy family life.’ The thing she’d craved all her life. ‘But in the end I wasn’t enough for them.’
So how on earth could she ever be enough for this man? Doubts swirled. She’d been with Steve and Paul for eighteen months and two years respectively. That was the length of time she could keep an average man—what hope did she have with Cesar?
It was a relief when the ping of the oven indicated the cake was ready.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TWO DAYS LATER Cesar gave his reflection a perfunctory check, made sure there was no spot on his tie, no dust on his suit because, despite the fact that Antonio and Tia’s wedding was to be private, there would still be photographers covering the arrival and departure of guests—a fact he had every intention of using to his advantage.
His and Gabriella’s.
He rolled his eyes as he caught the small goofy smile on his lips, brought about by the thought of Casavalle’s Queen-in-waiting.
Enough. There was no need for goofiness, rather the smile should be one of satisfaction, that his courtship was going well, that there was a certainty of a union less cold than that of his parents. The kisses they had shared had shown him that—his body still tied in knots.
Turning away from his reflection, he headed for the door and the chauffeur-driven car that would take him to Casavalle, where he’d arranged to meet Gabriella prior to the ceremony, so they could make the walk to the chapel together.
Forty-five minutes later he alighted in the courtyard, raised a hand in acknowledgement as the photographers clicked, made sure that the small package was just visible in the pocket of his suit as he entered the palace and made his way to the reception room.
He pushed open the door, and felt his lungs constrict slightly. The dress she wore was perfect for the occasion, navy blue, simple in its structural cut and demure neckline, but made that little bit different by the statement flared sleeves. Her chestnut hair fell free to her shoulders. ‘You look stunning,’ he said simply.
Gabriella looked down at herself. ‘I have to admit I am having doubts. Fashion was never my thing.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ he assured her.
‘You’ve scrubbed up pretty well yourself.’
‘Apart from the shadows under my eyes,’ he said, with a smile. ‘I stayed up late reading.’