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He did not know. Knew only that he kept her small hand in his. He went on sitting there quietly, saying nothing. Silence all around them. Between them. Only broken by the ticking clock on the mantelpiece.
He felt her fingers tighten over his. And it seemed to him, in that moment, that it was right that they should do so.
He did not stay much longer. Though of course he had offered to stay, Connie had said she wanted to be alone, and he respected her wishes.
But as he took his leave, he turned to her by the cottage front door. ‘Connie...’ He paused. Then, ‘If there is anything you need—anything at all—you must phone me at once and I’ll be here. Do you understand? I know this is hard for you...so very hard.’
Her voice was strangled as she answered, half lifting her head to look at him. ‘Thank you—it’s kind—but...’
He nodded again. She was at the end of what little strength had remained to her.
He reached for her hand, squeezed it lightly, then let it go. ‘You can be proud of what you did,’ he said, his voice intent. ‘You saw her through the last of her life to her passing beyond it. You were a loving, loyal granddaughter, and you gave her your love and loyalty to the very end.’ Something changed in his voice as suddenly he knew there was something he urgently wanted her to hear. ‘And now, Connie, now she is free—do you understand?’
She didn’t answer him. She could not speak, he could see. And her head had bowed again, tears flowing once more. She didn’t look at him—could not, he could see that too—but turned away, shoulders shaking, completely breaking down. She all but stumbled back indoors, pulling the door shut, disappearing inside.
For a moment Dante just stood there, disquieted and concerned. Then, knowing she truly did not wish him to be there, he took a breath and walked away, lowering himself into his car, and driving off.
Heading back to his own, quite separate life. The way he wanted it to be.
Connie lay on her bed, all alone in the cottage.
I’m on my own now...completely on my own.
Except for—
No, that was not something to be thought. She must not think of Dante in that way. She had no claim on him. No real claim...
I mustn’t think anything otherwise. I just mustn’t—however kind he is, and however much he supported me over Gran’s death and funeral.
Thoughts moved in her head, difficult and painful. The sense of loss still overwhelmed her, but with part of her mind she was also aware that with her grandmother’s death her life had changed for ever.
Or had it?
Dante had made it clear that he wanted their marriage to last at least eighteen months—which was still seven months ahead. So, were they supposed to continue as they had been doing while her grandmother was alive? She didn’t know, and right now she could not focus on it. Dante was back in Milan and she was here, in the cottage she called home, filled still with the presence of the grandmother she had loved so much.
For now, it was all she could cope with. All she could cling to with her grieving heart.
Dante opened the email from Connie, reading what he’d expected to read. Her grandmother’s probate had gone through as smoothly as he’d assured her it would—he’d asked Rafaello to glance over the brief will, but Connie’s grandmother had had little to leave her granddaughter after the cost of her care.
His expression shadowed. It had been Rafaello who’d put to him the question that Dante felt take shape again in his mind now, as he read Connie’s email.
‘What’s going to happen now, Dante?’he’d asked. ‘You made this marriage on the assumption that Connie would likely be looking after her grandmother for the duration. Would therefore always need to be based in England. But now...?’
Dante had batted his friend’s concern away.
‘Let the poor girl be, Raf! She’s only just buried her grandmother. Time enough for future plans. I don’t want her hassled or upset even more.’
Had he sounded defensive? Protective, even? Well, if he had, he wasn’t sorry for it.
Raf had stared at him, a quizzical look in his eye. Dante hadn’t liked it. Raf had had that damn perceptive lawyer’s expression on his face, as if he was all too eager to probe beneath the surface of Dante’s response.
Well, there was nothingtoprobe! Though Raf had made his objections to his impulsive and desperate marriage clear enough, once it had been done, he’d kept quiet about it. He’d met Connie briefly, when she’d come to Italy to be presented to Dante’s grandfather’s lawyers, and been perfectly civil to her, if somewhat guarded. As for himself, whenever he’d met up with Raf, or chatted with him online, he’d nevernotmentioned Connie, or the contact he had with her. He’d been completely open about her. Why shouldn’t he be?
‘Will she come out to Milan now?’
Raf had followed the quizzical look with that direct question. A question Dante hadn’t wanted to hear, let alone answer.
‘Why should she?’he’d countered.
