At the Spanish Duke's Command

by Fiona Hood-Stewart

  “I hope so,” the old lady murmured, letting out a deep sigh. “I truly hope so.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “BUT why this sudden return home?” Lady Cavendish said, after embracing Georgiana fondly. Her daughter looked thinner, and rather peaky, she thought. But she was too wise to ask what was wrong. That, she hoped, would reveal itself.

  “I just felt homesick. I thought I’d spend a few days here, then—then go back,” Georgiana lied, dropping onto the deep chintz sofa, knowing she would have to find a valid excuse not to return to Spain. But she couldn’t think of one right now. She was simply too exhausted and emotionally distraught.

  Why did she have to fall so deeply in love with Juan? Why couldn’t she be like her friend, Emma, who had romantic adventures without ever falling head over heels as Georgiana had? What made it worse was having no one she could share her pain with, no one she could talk to about it. Her emotions were too tied up. Love, anger, pain, sorrow—so many feelings churning inside that she couldn’t define. And overriding them all was the cynicism of Juan’s implacable attitude. How could he live his life in this cold calculated manner? Surely he would be miserable living with one woman when he cared for another?

  A sudden thought struck her, leaving her even more devastated than she already was. Perhaps it was only she who loved him, not vice versa. Maybe she was just a passing fancy in his life, a toy to be played with for a while before being set aside in favour of a more important relationship. She clenched her hands and restrained burning tears. If truth be told, she’d been a fool. A stupid idiotic little fool. A virgin whom it had amused him to seduce. And now she was paying the price for her own folly.

  Georgiana sighed and tried to look cheerful, lest her mother suspect things were not right. She couldn’t tell her the truth. Not now, anyway. Lady Cavendish would be so disappointed in Juan that it would likely affect the longstanding relationship the families had entertained for years. She just hoped she could keep up the façade, pretend for as long as it took to come up with a very good excuse not to return to Madrid.

  “But why did she leave so suddenly?” Leticia asked nervously. The fittings for the bridesmaid dresses were the next day, and she needed Georgiana to be present. It was difficult enough to organise all these details without having absentees.

  “I have no idea,” Juan said, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat. “She went back to England. Apparently an old friend of hers was taken ill. I can’t tell you more.”

  “But I must speak with her at once,” Leticia said, frowning. “She must have a mobile number.”

  “I presume the Condessa must have it,” Juan responded with a noncommittal shrug. It was bad enough knowing he was the cause of Georgiana’s absence. And the truth was he must face the future.

  He looked over at Leticia who, in the past days, had seemed increasingly nervous. He would almost go to the extent of saying unhappy. Was something wrong with her? He had spent so much time worrying about his own private affairs that he’d had little time to think of hers.

  “Are you okay, Letti?” he asked, slipping an arm around her shoulders. Strangely, he felt her stiffen. “Tell me—is something bothering you?”

  “No, no,” she answered hastily, sending him a quick nervous smile. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired, with all my work and the arrangements for the wedding. A week in the Bahamas will do me good.”

  “Perhaps we should make it two,” he said, looking down at her. He’d never seen Letti look so concerned and so obviously worried. Surely she hadn’t learned about the episode with Georgiana?

  For a moment he frowned. No. She couldn’t have. He’d told her about Georgiana coming to stay in Seville, and that her friends had been invited for paella; she hadn’t blinked an eye.

  Juan dropped his arm and went over to the window. He had never in the course of his thirty-year existence felt so utterly conflicted. Up until now he’d made his choices freely. And since Leonora had died he had indulged in sophisticated relationships that demanded no ties and from which he could walk away with no damage done.

  But Georgiana was different.

  He was well aware of the damage he’d done, and he regretted it. Not the actual moments they’d spent together—those he would never regret or forget, for they had awoken a part of him that for too long had lain dormant. But the pain Georgiana must certainly be experiencing and which he could do nothing to alleviate. That he could not forgive himself easily. How could he have allowed his selfish desires to overcome his sense of chivalry?

  “Juan, you asked me if something is wrong,” Leticia said from across the room, reminding him that she was still there. “But the impression I get is that maybe you’re the one with a problem?”

  He spun around and faced her, tempted for a crazy moment to tell her the truth. Then common sense prevailed and he smiled. “Of course nothing is wrong, Letti. Perhaps we are both having prenuptial qualms. I believe it is quite usual.” He grinned beguilingly at her. “Now, how about dinner tonight? We could even fit in a movie if you like?”

  “Uh, I’m afraid I can’t,” she said with a regretful smile. “You see, Pablito Sanchez promised he would look over all the briefs I have for tomorrow’s court cases with me. Then there’s the—”

  “Don’t tell me. I know,” he interrupted with a brief smile. “You have masses of work to do and Pablito Sanchez is the one who will be taking time out from his university job to help you out when we go away on our honeymoon. He is very helpful, apparently.”

  “Yes, he is. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  Juan looked at her and frowned, but said nothing.

  “Very well, then we shall leave the movies for another evening.”

  “But I still don’t know what to do about Georgiana,” Leticia murmured, perplexed. “You don’t think she’s backing out, do you? It would make the wedding party all wrong.”

  “I have no idea. As you said, you had better phone her and find out,” he said, his tone indifferent.

  “Very well. I shall get her number from the Condessa and call.”

  “Georgiana? No, I’m afraid she’s not in,” Lady Cavendish replied. “Who would like to speak to her?”

  “This is Leticia, Juan Monsanto’s fiancée.”

  “Oh, hello. How nice to speak to you. I received your kind invitation yesterday.”

  “And that is why I am calling. As I’m sure you know, Georgiana is going to be a bridesmaid.”

  “Georgiana? A bridesmaid? But how extraordinary. She never mentioned it.”

  “No? Well, it’s rather difficult, you see, because of the dress fittings. I wonder when she is returning to Madrid?”

  “I imagine in the next few days. But I shall tell her to call you, Leticia, as soon as she gets in.”

  “Thank you, Lady Cavendish. I would appreciate it. Juan sends his best.”

  “Thank you. I look forward to seeing you both in Madrid.”

  Lady Cavendish laid the phone handset down pensively. It was almost two weeks since Georgiana had returned to London and she showed no signs of wanting to go back to Spain. In fact every time she mentioned the matter her daughter came up with increasingly pathetic excuses not to return. What had happened, she wondered, to make her child run away? And why wasn’t she confiding in her?

  Lady Cavendish had been forty-five when she’d had Georgiana, making her an elderly parent, but she prided herself on the close relationship she and her daughter had always maintained. Now she frowned. Like it or not, she must sit Georgiana down as soon as she came in and find out what exactly was going on. This could not be allowed to fester any longer.

  Clutching the envelope given to her by the doctor, Georgiana hurried out of the Harley Street clinic and hailed the first free taxi. Giving her home address in Wilton Crescent, she collapsed on the back seat of the cab and closed her eyes.

  Pregnant.

  She should have guessed when she’d begun to feel dizzy. This nightmare, she realised, had o
nly just begun. How could this have happened? They had made love only during those two days together. But of course, as it had been so unexpected, she’d taken no precautions. And now she was pregnant with Juan’s baby.

  A sob rushed to her throat. If only things had been different she would be thrilled at the news. But the thought of Juan’s child inside her made her tremble. What was she going to do?

  A plethora of turbulent thoughts and emotions swept over her as she absorbed the news and wondered what on earth the future held.

  She couldn’t possibly tell her mother.

  Nor could she tell Juan.

  Upon her arrival at Wilton Crescent, Georgiana’s mother was waiting in the drawing room. Trying to appear her usual self, and straighten out her confused thoughts, Georgiana smiled and went through the motions of normal conversation. Tea was served, and automatically she sat down and accepted a cup.

  “A scone, darling?” Lady Cavendish offered.

  “Oh, no. I couldn’t.” Georgiana paled with nausea at the thought.

  “Darling, are you all right?” Lady Cavendish asked. “You look rather off-colour.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just a touch of indigestion. Must be the curry I ate at lunch.”

  “By the way, I got a call from Leticia this afternoon. You never told me she had invited you to be a bridesmaid?” Lady Cavendish said, raising a surprised brow.

  “Didn’t I? I must have forgotten. Terribly sweet of her, isn’t it?” Georgiana downed some tea and tried to look relaxed.

  “Very kind indeed. But Leticia seemed worried about the fittings for your bridesmaid dress. She says there is so little time. I wasn’t aware they’d brought forward the wedding date. It seems rather odd. You don’t think she’s expecting, do you?”

  Oh, God, this was all she needed. Georgiana cried inwardly, wondering how much more she would have to cope with.

  “I don’t think that’s the reason.” She glanced at her parent. “Do you think it would be terribly rude if I found an excuse not to attend the wedding?”

  “What? Not attend when you’ve been asked to be a bridesmaid? And at this late stage? I think it would be totally unacceptable,” Lady Cavendish replied, shocked. “Darling, is something wrong? If so, do tell me. Otherwise I think you must pull yourself together and return to Madrid. It would be most unfair to poor Leticia, and most bad-mannered to Juan and the Condessa to let them down at the last minute.”

  Overwhelmed by a dreadful sinking feeling, Georgiana sipped her tea absently and gazed out of the window at the grey sky beyond. There really was no way out. Either she told her mother the truth—and that she knew would cause the most awful rumpus—or she braved it out, faced this situation of her own making, and went through with the ordeal. There wasn’t much else she could do without upsetting everybody concerned.

  With a sigh, she laid her cup in the saucer. “Very well. You’re right. I’ll go back to Madrid in a couple of days.”

  “So I should hope,” Lady Cavendish admonished. “You’ve already missed a lot of classes. I hope you can catch up.”

  “I will,” Georgiana murmured.

  But Spanish literature was the last thing on her mind right now. It was the thought of facing Juan, carrying on the pretence that was occupying her mind at every moment.

  For how, she wondered, suddenly desperate, was she going to do it?

  “I will pick her up at the airport,” Juan remarked, relieved when the Condessa told him of Georgiana’s imminent arrival. Too often he’d picked up the phone to call her, then thought better of it.

  Now she was returning.

  The knowledge that Georgiana really would be walking up the aisle as attendant to his bride-to-be had come as something of a shock. And for the first time in his life Juan felt trapped in a noose of his own making. But the thought of seeing her again sent a new and invigorating energy coursing through him, enough to wipe all else from his mind.

  But she was not to be his.

  Juan realised reluctantly that he’d been spoiled. He had always got exactly what he wanted. Yet now the one woman he most desired was out of reach.

  It frustrated and annoyed him beyond reason. For of course there had to be a way. In fact, he realised suddenly, there was! But whether Georgiana would accept the idea or not was another question. It was one thing to marry one woman and carry on an affair with another when she too was sophisticated, perhaps married herself. Quite another to expect the same of an innocent nineteen-year-old. He did, he acknowledged unenthusiastically, have a moral responsibility towards her.

  Georgiana disembarked at Barajas Airport, head in turmoil. She felt sick in the mornings, and although by midday she was usually better she still didn’t feel her usual self. What was she to do? she wondered, heading towards the exit.

  What could she do?

  There were only two options open to her. Either keep the baby or have an abortion. And she didn’t think she could face this last—didn’t think she could deal with the pain and guilt of ridding herself of her baby.

  Their baby.

  At that moment the glass doors opened and she looked up to see Juan standing only a few feet away, a newspaper casually tucked under the arm of his navy blazer, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Reality hit. For a moment Georgiana thought her legs would collapse beneath her. She slowed her pace. How could she face him now?

  But before she could react he was at her side, taking her arm and her tote bag, frowning at her pale countenance.

  “Are you all right, querida, did something go wrong in England?” he asked, concerned.

  “Nothing is wrong,” she snapped, wrenching her arm from his. “And I don’t know why you bothered to come to the airport to pick me up. It was quite unnecessary. I can easily take a cab.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, taken aback by her attitude. “You know how I feel about you using public transport.”

  “Which we both know is absurd. Plus, frankly, what you feel or don’t feel is of no damned interest to me, Juan. I am not your concern,” she bit back. “You’d do better to worry about your future wife.”

  “Why this sudden attack of aggressive childishness?” he asked haughtily.

  “Oh, leave me alone,” she muttered, looking away, her lips set in a tight line that boded ill.

  Juan sighed. This wasn’t going to be an easy task. Obviously Georgiana was hurt and angry with him. He would have to manage the situation with kid gloves.

  “Come,” he said, his tone appeasing, “we can’t discuss this here in the airport. I’ll drive you back to the Castellana and we can discuss matters on the way.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” she threw, almost crying out the words. His presence, the closeness of his being, was too painful to bear. “Just leave me alone. Don’t come near me. I don’t want to see you. I’m here for Leticia, not for you.” On that she grabbed her bag from him and ran out of the building to the front of the taxi queue, and entered the first vehicle before he could stop her.

  Juan started after her, then, realising it was useless, he watched, fists clenched, as the taxi merged into early-evening traffic. With an effort he mastered his temper. This was ridiculous behaviour and he wasn’t about to tolerate it! Georgiana might be young, but she had been woman enough to sleep with him. And that, he reminded himself, was what all this was about. For he had every intention, he knew suddenly, of sleeping with her again.

  With quick, angry steps he returned to his Ferrari parked at the kerb and swore when he saw the parking ticket tucked under the windscreen wiper. Thrusting it into the pocket of his blazer, he got in the car and gunned the engine.

  Georgiana was driving him nuts.

  He wanted her, damn it! Needed her more than anything or anyone since Leonora had died. Pressing his foot down hard on the accelerator, Juan joined the traffic. He was not about to let her go just because of his marriage of convenience. There must be a solution—if only he could hit upon it.

  Pressi
ng the pedal to the floor, Juan drove back towards the city bemused. Rarely was he at a loss. But the truth was, this situation had him flummoxed. He needed to come up with a game plan that would work for all three of them.

  Georgiana would have to be installed in an apartment of her own—though actually the cover of her being at the Castellana might work too. After all, no one would suspect them of carrying on an affair. He would tell Leticia he intended them to move to La Moraleja, into his mother’s house, right away. The only major hitch was getting Georgiana to agree to the scheme. Even in his more optimistic moments he had a feeling she would never be that kind of woman.

  Another oath escaped him as he reached the city, and drove towards the Castellana, sure he would find her there.

  Surely a man of his experience could handle such a situation? After all, he justified, he had every intention of making her happy, didn’t he?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “DONDE vamos, señorita?” The taxi driver glanced in the rear-view mirror enquiringly.

  For a moment Georgiana was at a complete loss.

  Where to go and what to do? Now that she’d rid herself of Juan it was impossible to think of returning to his apartment in the Castellana. Could she go to stay with Gail, a Canadian fellow student? No, because she couldn’t remember Gail’s address.

  All at once, seeing the taxi driver’s rising impatience, Georgiana threw out an address. It was only as she leaned back in the plastic-covered seat that she acknowledged that Leticia was the last person with whom she should be taking refuge. But it was the only other place to go. Perhaps she should be truthful and tell Leticia what Juan was up to. It seemed so unfair that the other woman should be entrapped into a marriage with a man who had been so blatantly deceiving her.