The Last Di Sione Claims His Prize (The Billionaire's Legacy 8)

“I think it must be quite important. We’ve never discussed the painting, but I’ve long suspected that it was real. I know…I know it was controversial. I know that it concerns you.”

“Yes,” her grandmother said. “At the time it was quite controversial. Evidence that…that the princess had a lover.”

Her grandmother had been the princess then. Young. Unmarried. And it had been a very different time.

It was difficult to imagine her grandmother taking a lover. Difficult to imagine her doing anything quite so passionate or impetuous. She was the incomparable matriarch of the family. The figurehead so established, so steady, she might very well already be carved of marble, as she would now no doubt be in the future.

But if the painting existed, then she was the subject. And if that were the case, then of course it had been commissioned by a lover.

“I see,” Gabriella said. “And…did you?”

Her grandmother let out a long, slow breath, raising her eyes to meet hers. In them, Gabriella could see so much. A wealth of sadness. Deep heartbreak.

Things Gabriella had read about, but never experienced.

“It is very easy when you are young, Gabriella, to lead with your heart instead of your head. You have seen this, time and again, with your parents. And they no longer carry youth as an excuse. This is why I have always told you that you must be in possession of your wits. It does not do well for a woman to lose her mind over passion. It doesn’t end well. Not for us. Men can carry on as they see fit, but it isn’t like that for women.”

Gabriella nodded slowly. “Yes, I know.” She thought of her brothers, who most certainly carried on exactly as they pleased. Of her father, who seemed to escape the most scathing comments. The worst of it was always reserved for her mother. She was a renowned trollop whose every choice, from her wardrobe to which man she chose to make conversation with at a social event, was analyzed, was taken as evidence of her poor character.

Gabriella knew this was true. It was just one of the many reasons that she had chosen to embrace her more bookish nature and keep herself separate from all of that carrying-on.

“Our hearts are not proper guides,” her grandmother continued. “They are fickle, and they are easily led. Mine certainly was. But I learned from my mistakes.”

“Of course,” Gabriella agreed, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“Go with him,” Queen Lucia said, her tone stronger now. Decisive. “Fetch the painting. But remember this conversation. Remember what I have told you.”

“I don’t think there’s any danger of my heart getting involved on a quest of this nature.”

“He is a handsome man, Gabriella.”

Gabriella laughed. “He’s a stranger! And old enough to be… Not my father, certainly not. But perha

ps a young uncle.”

The queen shook her head. “Men like that have their ways.”

“And I have my way of scaring them off. Please, tell me when a man last danced with me more than once at a social function?”

“If you didn’t speak so much of books…”

“And weevils.” She had talked incessantly about weevils and the havoc they played in early English kitchens to her last dance partner. Because they had been the subject of the last book she’d read and she hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

“Certainly don’t speak of that.”

“Suffice it to say I don’t think you have to worry about me tumbling into a romance. The only problem is… Why would he take me with him? Now that he knows the painting exists, and that it is on Isolo D’Oro, he’ll no doubt have an easy enough time figuring out where it is. And I’m sure he’ll have no trouble finding someone to impart what information they might have about it, for the right price.”

“No,” her grandmother said, “he won’t.”

“Why is that?”

“Because. Because you have the key. You’re the only one who has the key.”

Gabriella frowned. “I don’t have a key.”

“Yes, you do. The painting is hidden away in one of the old country estates that used to belong to the royal family. It is in a secret room, behind a false wall, and no one would have found it. So long as the building stands, and I have never heard rumors to the contrary, the painting would have remained there.”

“And the key?”