“Watch your step, or we’ll both end up in the water,” Brent cautioned as he helped her out of the boat.
Summer looked at the brackish water dotted with floating debris and her stomach heaved. “I’ve never seen such filth,” she declared, remembering the times she had dangled her feet in the clean, clear water at the dock of her parents’ plantation.
“If you could break Havana of leaving its garbage in the streets to be washed into the bay with the next rain, you would be doing everyone a service,” he responded, though he did not seem to mind the filthy water that much.
“How does anyone stand to live here?” Summer asked.
But she didn’t feel that way once they’d left the harbor behind. The streets were hot and stifling; however, the houses were beautiful. They had tile roofs, iron rails, and cool courtyards enclosed by high walls. Everywhere she saw the trees, shrubs, and flowers she had known since childhood, but instead of the random gardening of Mother Nature, these plants were arranged in endlessly varying designs, great numbers of them being massed together to create awe-inspiring blocks of vibrant color. “I’ve never seen so many beautiful flowers,” Summer commented.
“Wait until you see the gardens of some of the large estates. This is nothing compared to them.”
Summer lapsed into a daydream, but she came wide-awake when she found herself stepping out of the carriage into the most enormous building she had ever seen. The Casa Grande was the largest and most luxurious hotel in all of Cuba. In only five years its fame had spread throughout the Caribbean, and people came to Havana just to see it.
Summer followed in Brent’s wake, wishing she could become invisible, or at least go unnoticed in the furor caused by his arrival. She could practically feel accusing fingers pointed at her, could almost hear the scandalized whispers that damned her as a scarlet woman. Why had she let Brent talk her into leaving the safety of the ship? When would she ever learn to stand up to him?
Summer would have been even more upset if she had known that her compelling beauty had brought her greater attention than being seen in Brent’s company ever could. Ignorant of the desire she kindled in the men she passed, she stared straight ahead and silently prayed that she would reach her room before her courage failed.
The lobby, reached by a short flight of steps, made Summer gasp. Twelve marble columns were arranged around it, topped by Ionic capitals supporting statues in dull gold. The extravagant plaster ceiling and the stucco wall panels were heavily decorated with gilt in contrast to the geometrically simple floor of yellow and blue tiles.
“How do you like it?” Brent asked as he watched Summer gaze about her in disbelief.
“It’s a little overpowering.” She faltered, hesitant to criticize. “But I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Alonzo will be pleased to hear that. He’s always glad to hear guests praise his hotel.” A short, stocky individual with fat cheeks, penetrating eyes, and boundless energy suddenly appeared before them.
“Señor Douglas,” he gushed, as he directed young men to unload their trunks and fetch the baggage from the carriage, “I am delighted that you have favored my humble hotel with your presence.”
“I wouldn’t think of staying anywhere else,” Brent said with an easy smile. “And I’ve brought you a very special guest this time.”
“Your servant, señorita.” Alonzo got his first good look at Summer when she removed her hat. “We are honored that our roof is to shelter such a beautiful dove,” he said smoothly.
Brent’s eyes suddenly narrowed and glinted dangerously. “Before you jump to conclusions that may cause you considerable distress,” he said in a voice that startled Alonzo into dropping his suave demeanor, “let me introduce the Lady Summer McConnel, countess of Heatherstone.” Alonzo bowed deeply while Summer stared at the floor and hoped her complexion didn’t betray her mortification. “Her husband is the richest man in Scotland, and I want you to take particularly good care of her.”
“I am a complete fool, and should have my tongue cut out,” apologized Alonzo. “It is a great honor to have you stay with us. If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, just name it. It will be done at once.”
“As long as you’re so anxious to please, you can find the countess a maid. Hers became too ill to continue the journey.”
“Of course,” Alonzo assured them with an ingratiating smile. “That will be no problem.”
“And send a message to Clothilde. I want her to be here before noon with every dress she has in the place. The countess needs some new gowns. Hers are all too hot for Havana.”
“Of course.” Alonzo swallowed convulsively. “Which suite would the countess prefer?”
“Your best,” Brent informed him, surprised at the question.
“It will be prepared at once,” Alonzo replied. “And you?” he asked, without daring to look into Brent’s hard eyes.
“Any suite you have as long as it’s close enough for me to keep an eye on the countess.” Brent fixed Alonzo with a brittle stare. “My first mate will share it with me. Mind you, I want that maid engaged by this evening. The countess must not be unattended.”
Summer was too unnerved to protest in front of Alonzo, but when he bounced away to correct some trifling fault in the service of another guest, she pounced on Brent. “Why did you have to demand the biggest suite?” she asked. “Why couldn’t I occupy some modest room?”
“No one will believe your story if you hide in the attic. Either you play the part all the way, or we might as well go back to the ship.” Summer longed to tell him that she wanted to do that, but Alonzo returned to escort them to their rooms. She followed the two men up the grand staircase that led to the first floor on which the largest suites were located. Surely even kings didn’t live in places like this, she thought as she stared at the magnificence all around her. She had visited the homes of some very wealthy planters, but nothing she had seen could be compared to this hotel. A still greater surprise awaited her when she was ushered into her suite.
The huge room was decorated in the French style. The walls were covered with dark green and gold paneling on which Chinese and Turkish figures were carved, and enormous gilt mirrors hung above the companion fireplaces of pink marble. The floor was covered by a deep carpet, and the furniture was upholstered in fabric that depicted rustic scenes.
“This is the salon, señora,” said Alonzo. “There is a dining room on the left, a small private parlor to the right. Off the bedroom you’ll find a dressing room and quarters for your maid, and there are also rooms for your husband and his valet.”
“You needn’t bother with them,” said Brent briskly. “Just see that the rest of the suite is prepared.”
“But of course,” Alonzo assured him. He could barely hide his relief that Brent was not going to share the countess’s suite openly.
“Where are my rooms?” Brent demanded.
“Just down the hall,” said Alonzo. “Come, I will show you.”
With a sinking feeling, Summer watched the ornate double doors close behind the two men. She had to lean on the back of a chair to prevent herself from giving in to a mad desire to run after Brent. Though he was only a few steps away, she had never felt more alone in her life.
Until now everything had seemed real, at times painfully so, but real all the same; yet alone in this enormous suite she felt she was living a dream. Maybe it was the opulence of the hotel, but she clung to the memory of Brent’s arms about her.
“I’ve got to stop acting like a scared rabbit,” she said aloud, hoping the sound of her own voice would give her courage. “I’ll never be able to take care of myself if I go to pieces over every little thing.” She got up and looked about her. The overpowering grandeur of the room and the luxury of its appointments momentarily distracted her. She let her fingers wander over plush fabric and dark polished wood. She felt intimidated, threatened by the sheer extravagance of it all, and she longed for the comfortable pla
inness of her own home in which she was more important than the objects around her. Even the servants in a hotel such as this were bound to look down their noses at her.
She walked around a couch with a sculpted mahogany frame, then dropped onto its thick cushions, and stared ahead unseeingly. A soft knock at the door made her start up from the sofa like some forest creature looking for a place to hide. The knock came again, more insistently this time.
“Come in,” she managed to say, one hand clutching her throat and the other grasping the arm of the sofa.
Chapter 19
The door opened and a bright, pixie-faced girl tripped into the room, words tumbling from her mouth in a torrent. She both surprised and reassured Summer.
“Señora, I’m your new maid! Isn’t it wonderful that I don’t have to make beds and clean up after messy people. Oh!” she stared at Summer, open-mouthed and unabashed. “The señora is so very beautiful. You are like a princess.”
“I’m not a princess.” Summer felt more like a frightened charwoman than royalty. “I’m really no one at all.” Heartened by the girl’s extreme youth, she managed a weak smile.
“You must not say that. Señor Alonzo told me that you were a real countess. He said I must be very careful not to make any mistakes.” She suddenly looked suspiciously at Summer. “You are a countess, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Wait until I tell María,” the girl squealed, clapping her hands with glee. “She will be eaten up with jealousy, the black-eyed slut!” She clapped a hand over her mouth and stared apprehensively at Summer. “Madre de Dios, señora, I beg your pardon. My horrible tongue.”
“It’s all right.” Summer laughed, relieved to find her maid a guileless child and not the censorious woman she had feared. “I’ve often wanted to say something like that myself.”
The girl broke into a giggle totally devoid of contrition. “I know I shouldn’t say such things, and I confess to Padre Miguel every week, but I can’t stop. María says I’ll get into trouble someday, but I don’t care for anything she says. She’s a mean-hearted girl, and green with jealousy. You should have heard her scream when Alonzo said I was to be your maid and that she had to clean the rooms.”
“I’m sure she is everything you say,” Summer said. She decided to try to stem the flow of unwanted confidences. “But we can forget about her for the time being.”
“It’s impossible to forget María,” the young maid declared emphatically.
“I’d prefer to talk about you,” Summer stated. “I’d really like to know your name. I can’t go around pointing at you every time I want something.”
“Perdôneme señora,” she said, a delighted laugh rippling from her. “My name is Chichi.”
“Chichi?” repeated Summer, curiously. “That’s such an unusual name.”
“I was christened Dolores Isabella Carlotta Beatrix,” Chichi announced proudly.
“My goodness. What a lot of names for such a little girl.”
“Nobody ever used them. My father said I chattered like a monkey. That’s why he called me Chichi. Even my mother stopped calling me Dolores before I was six.”
“I think Chichi is a charming name, and I’m glad you’re my maid,” Summer declared. “I was afraid they would send me some stiff Spanish lady who would disapprove of everything I did.”
“Margarita would never agree to be maid to an English lady,” Chichi told her earnestly. “She thinks all the English are sinners and seducers.” The girl giggled. “She says that their souls will be the devil’s food.”
“Who is Margarita?” Summer felt overwhelmed by the introduction of yet another person.
“She’s the housekeeper,” said Chichi. She mimicked the walk and the stance of a stout, scowling, ungraceful woman. “She’s always crossing herself and saying that the devil will devour our souls every time we laugh. Estúpida!”
“How horrid. I had no idea that Spanish devils were so hungry.”
Chichi’s tinkling laugh erupted spontaneously. “We think the devil tried to eat her soul, but it was so tough it gave him a stomach ache.” She was overcome by laughter once again, but it stopped abruptly at a knock and the appearance of Alonzo.
“The countess’s trunks have arrived,” he announced sternly. As proof of his words, two young men struggled in under the weight of Summer’s largest chest. “See that the señora’s clothes are unpacked right away.” He glowered at the unrepentant Chichi until she took refuge behind Summer. When he turned to direct the men bearing Summer’s second trunk, the spritely little maid made a face at him and then dashed for the safety of the bedchamber.
“If the señora is not satisfied with her maid, I will be happy to send another,” Alonzo offered.
“No, I’m quite happy with Chichi.” Summer schooled her features to impassivity.
Alonzo’s rigid face relaxed into a smile. “She’s a good girl, really, but she will talk the hind leg off a donkey. You have to be very firm with her.”
“I don’t mind. She amuses me.”
“If you are quite certain,” he said. He wondered if Captain Douglas would feel the same.
“Have you found a maid for the countess yet?” Brent demanded as he came into the room, his very presence charging it with energy.
“She’s already unpacking the countess’s trunks.”
“Good. When will Clothilde be here?”
“I’m not certain,” stammered Alonzo, avoiding those penetrating eyes. “I have not yet received an answer to my message.”
“Good God, man, we can’t sit about all day. The Governor’s reception is tonight, and the countess has nothing to wear.”
“I don’t think Madame Clothilde will be able to provide a gown on such short notice.”
“What you think doesn’t matter. You did tell her I wanted her at once, didn’t you?” Brent demanded brusquely, fixing Alonzo with the glare that never failed to reduce his crew to quaking incoherence.
“She must not have had time to respond to your wishes,” Alonzo finally replied.
“Why not? Send someone over there and tell her to drop whatever she’s doing.”
“I’ll have your message delivered right away,” Alonzo said, quickly, glad to have an excuse to escape Brent’s mounting temper.
“Perhaps we could go to Madame Clothilde’s shop,” Summer suggested.
“She can come here,” Brent grumbled. He was completely out of patience. “She charges enough to take the trouble.”
“But she doesn’t know my size, my coloring, or what I look like. She can’t possibly have any idea of what to bring for me to look at.”
Alonzo paused in the doorway.
“I’ve already asked her to come here,” Brent stated determinedly.
“I’m sure she’ll be more willing to try to find a dress for me if we make it easier on her. Her regular customers have probably ordered gowns for tonight as well.”
“To hell with her regular customers,” Brent stormed.
“You can’t expect her to see this from your point of view. She won’t want to endanger her regular income for someone who will be here only a short time,” Summer pointed out rationally.
“All right,” Brent finally said.
Summer turned to Alonzo. “Tell her we’ll come to her shop as soon as she can be ready to receive us.”
“Right now,” Brent growled.
“Ask the messenger to hurry,” Summer suggested, unwilling to test Brent’s temper too far.
“I’ll send María to her shop at once,” said Alonzo. “Is there anything else before I go?”
“We’d like something to eat.”
“Certainly,” said Alonzo, bowing himself out.
“How that great fool manages to run this hotel I’ll never know,” Brent observed.
“With men like you making absurd demands at every turn, his job is not an easy one,” remarked Summer.
“Now listen to me, señora,” Brent sarcastically mimicked Al
onzo.
“No, you listen to me. I won’t go to this reception if you intend to make a scene everytime something happens. I won’t even step outside this room if the whole town is going to be buzzing with stories about my unreasonable demands and your temper.”
Brent surprised Summer by looking disappointed instead of angry. “Don’t you like staying at this hotel?”
“It makes me feel positively wonderful,” Summer said quickly, “when it’s not scaring me to death. Why did I ever let you talk me into leaving the ship?” she groaned. “Maybe that wretched Clothilde won’t have anything for me to wear and I won’t have to go after all. Chichi can stay with me.”
“Clothilde will find something if she has to spend the rest of the day sewing it herself. And who is this Chichi? She doesn’t sound like a suitable companion for you.”
“She’s not a companion.” Summer laughed. “She’s my maid.”
“If that fool Alonzo has palmed off one of his sluts on you, I’ll wrap this crucifix around his Spanish neck.” Brent picked up a large bronze cross from a side table.
“She’s not a slut,” Summer said indignantly. “She has a long list of proper Spanish names, but her father calls her Chichi because she chatters like a monkey.”
“I’m going to see just what kind of joke Alonzo thinks he’s playing.” Brent stalked toward the bedroom door. “You,” he shouted, “come out here at once.”
Chichi catapulted through the door, nearly running into Brent. She gasped in fright at seeing his great size and the murderous look on his face. “Nombre de Dios!” she exclaimed, backing up a few steps. “Surely this is Margarita’s devil.” Summer was seized by a fit of giggles as the two took a moment to size each other up. When Brent saw that Chichi was indeed a charming young girl with a turned-up nose and a slim figure, his frown changed to an appreciative smile.
Chichi, too, had had a chance to appreciate Brent and to become aware of his magnetism. Her eyes began to twinkle, and she responded to his frank gaze with a pouting little smile and lowered lashes. “So, Señora, is this your earl?” she said moving closer to Brent and looking him over quite brazenly. “I would never have the courage to go behind the bedroom door with him. Surely he would swallow me in one gulp.” Brent let out a crack of laughter, but Summer’s mirth suddenly vanished.
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