But maybe, just maybe, apologizing and confessing his love for her would be enough for Serafia to forgive his snap judgments.
Luca appeared in the doorway, an odd expression on his face.
“Where’s the jet?” Gabriel asked.
“It’s still at the airport in Del Sol, Your Grace.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Tell them I want to go to Barcelona as soon as possible. I need a car to meet me at the airport and I need someone to track down Serafia’s home address. I have no idea where she lives.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will see to all that. But first, you have...a visitor.”
Gabriel could feel his own face taking on Luca’s pinched, confused expression. “A visitor?” Could people just stroll up to the royal beach compound and knock on the door to join him for tea?
“Yes. It’s an old woman from Del Sol. She told the guards at the gate that she took a taxi out here to speak with you. She said it’s very important.”
Gabriel was certain that everything people wanted to say to the king was very important, but he was at a loss. He wanted to pack his bag and be in Barcelona before dinnertime. Certainly this could wait...
“She says it’s about Serafia.”
Gabriel stiffened. That changed everything. “Have her escorted into the parlor. Tell Marta to bring some tea and those almond cookies if we have any left. That will give us some time to make the arrangements before I leave.”
Luca nodded and went off to fulfill his wishes. Gabriel returned to his closet to pick a suit coat. He’d been dressing himself for the last few days and if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t doing a very good job. He knew that Serafia would want him to wear a jacket to greet a guest, especially an elderly one with more conservative ideas about the monarchy. He selected a black suit coat that went with the gray shirt he was already wearing. He knew he should add a tie, but he just couldn’t do it. He was in his own home; certainly he could get away with being a little more casual there.
By the time he reached the parlor, all his instructions had been executed beautifully. Marta had placed a tray of lovely treats on the coffee table and was pouring two cups of tea. Seated on the couch was a tiny woman. Perhaps the smallest he’d ever seen, withered and hunched over with age. She was at least eighty, the life shriveling out of her just as the sun had seemed to tan her skin to near leather. Her hair was silver and pulled back into a neat bun. She looked like everyone’s abuela.
“Presenting His Majesty, Prince Gabriel!” one of the guards lining the wall announced as he entered the room.
The old woman reached for her cane to stand and curtsey properly, but Gabriel couldn’t bear for her to go to that much trouble just for him. “Please, stay seated,” he insisted.
The woman relaxed back into her seat with a look of relief on her face. “Gracias, Don Gabriel.”
He sat down opposite her, offering the woman sugar or cream for her tea. “What can I do for you, señora?”
She took a sip of tea, and then set it down on the china dish with a shaky hand. “Thank you for taking the time to see me today. I know you are very busy. My name is Conchita Ortega. In 1946 when the coup happened, I was just fifteen years old and working as a servant in the Espina household. I have seen what was published in the papers over the last week or so, and now I have heard that Señorita Espina has left Alma.”
“Señorita Espina was only working for me for a few weeks. She was always supposed to return home.”
The older woman narrowed her gaze at him. “I understand, Your Grace, but I also understand and know amor when I see it. I know in my heart you were a couple in love and those vicious lies have ruined it. I had to speak up so you would know the truth.”
Gabriel listened carefully, his interest in what the woman had to say growing with each additional word she spoke. Even though he didn’t hold the past of her family against Serafia, it would help to know the truth of what really had happened back then. This woman might be one of the only people left alive who knew the whole story. “Please,” he replied. “I’d love for you to tell me what you know.”
She nodded and relaxed back in her seat with a cookie in her hand. She took a bite and chewed slowly, torturing Gabriel by delaying her story. “By the time everything fell apart,” she began, “the hurt feelings about the broken engagement between Rafael the First and Rosa Espina were nearly a decade in the past. Rafael had married Anna Maria, Rosa had married another fine gentleman and the young Prince Rafael the Second, your grandfather, was seven years old. All had turned out for the best. The Espina family would not, and did not, conspire against the Montoros during the coup. In fact, they were your family’s closest confidantes.”