At the Spanish Duke's Command

by Fiona Hood-Stewart

  “There was an awful rumpus, of course. My father threatened to cut me off without a penny. But in the end love won the day. And I loved him till the day he died. I still do.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Juan, if there is any way that you can prevent inflicting the pain that you and Letti and this poor child will all end up suffering, I counsel you to try. I know how shaming it would be for Leticia to be spurned at the last moment. But perhaps, as you’re both mature people, you could find a way out?”

  “Don’t you think I’ve been beating my brains trying to find a solution, Tia? Believe me, there is no way,” Juan said bitterly, taking a long gulp of whisky. “I’ve spent the better part of the past few days wondering how it could be achieved, but I’m afraid it would be impossible. In your case it was you, the woman, who broke off the engagement. In mine it would be a dishonour to Leticia’s name, as well as mine.”

  “You are right.” The Condessa sighed sadly. “But nevertheless I shall say my prayers. God has a funny way of righting things when they are meant to be.” Then she rose and, dropping a kiss on his brow, left the room.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “GEORGIANA has left again?” Leticia sat down on the plump brocade sofa and frowned at the Condessa. “That strikes me as very strange. A problem in the family, you say? She never mentioned anything.”

  “Yes—a cousin whom they are very close to.”

  “I see.” Leticia said no more, but she had her own ideas about why Georgiana had left—ideas that confirmed her initial suspicion. She’d been fooled by the girl saying she was going out with a boy from the university. But now it all made sense and fell into place.

  “I must see Juan at once,” she said, getting up hastily and straightening her skirt. “Will he be home soon?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you. He seems to be working himself to the bone these days. No doubt he’s getting a lot done before leaving on your honeymoon,” the Condessa countered, smiling.

  “No doubt. Yes. Well.” Leticia clasped her hands together, then smiled a little too brightly. “Will you please tell him that I shall be at home tonight and won’t go to bed until he comes over? I have something very important I simply have to talk over with him.”

  “Very well, querida, of course I’ll tell him. But are you sure it is wise?” The Condessa looked at her long and deeply.

  “Oh, yes, Condessa, I’m very, very sure.” Leticia clasped her hands again, then extended them to the older woman, smiling. “Wish me luck,” she whispered.

  Then, pressing the Condessa’s hands quickly, she rushed from the room, leaving the Condessa heaving a deep sigh. What on earth was going on? Leticia was not at all herself. Also she got the impression that the news about Georgiana had very little to do with the worried expression she had read in the younger woman’s eyes.

  With another sigh the Condessa leaned back in the armchair. There was little she could do to help these young people. All she could do was pray that the good Lord would handle this mess in His own fashion, and that, as they sometimes did, things would turn out for the best in the long run.

  Juan had not slept all night, and the day was a busy one, packed with unavoidable meetings. Several times he was tempted to call Georgiana in London, but each time he stopped himself.

  She had gone. And he had no right to hold her back. She had made her choice. For him to impose his will now would be wrong. He was about to be married. And although he longed to maintain a relationship with Georgiana he knew he would be creating impossible obstacles in her life. When finally he received his secretary’s message saying that Leticia expected him for dinner without fail the news just about crowned everything.

  He would go, of course. She deserved this minimal courtesy. And he might as well get used to the fact that in less than ten days his life would change radically. The least he could do was give Leticia the respect she was owed as his fiancée.

  At nine-thirty Juan rang Leticia’s doorbell and waited impatiently for someone to answer.

  “Good evening,” he said, and dropped a kiss on her cheek, surprised that she’d answered the door herself. “Where’s Lola? Out on the tiles again?”

  “I gave her the evening off.”

  “I see.” He took a quick look around but she was obviously alone.

  “Why don’t you come in and have a drink?” Leticia said with an over-bright smile. She seemed strangely nervous, and Juan gave an inner sigh. What else lay in store for him this evening? he wondered. He sensed something was wrong and that she wanted to talk. But what about?

  “I’ll have a whisky,” he said, following her into the pleasant open living room and dropping onto one of the wide contemporary-styled sofas, too weary to really care.

  “Juan, I know you probably think it odd that I asked you here tonight,” Leticia said, glancing at him as she poured whisky into an ice-filled glass, “but I—I need to—to tell you something.”

  Juan looked up, read the anxiety in her eyes, and his heart softened. Poor Letti. He’d never bothered overmuch about her feelings, or how she felt. She always came over as so strong and capable and cheerful. It had never crossed his mind that she too might have worries of her own to deal with. When she handed him the drink he pulled her down next to him on the sofa and smiled at her.

  “I’m afraid you have a very selfish future husband,” he said wryly. “Please forgive me. Lately I’ve been rather preoccupied with one thing and another. Tell me, querida, how can I help you?”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” she said, clasping her hands and shifting on the cushions in a nervous manner. “You can’t. You see, something has happened, Juan—something I feel that it’s only fair to tell you— What I mean is— Oh, this is coming out so badly!” she exclaimed, rising, hands clasped, sudden tears making her eyes glisten and her words incoherent.

  Juan frowned and looked at her amazed, unaccustomed to seeing her anything but in full control. “Leticia, what on earth is the matter?” he asked, getting up and slipping an arm around her. It was most unusual, in fact unheard of, to see her in such a nervous state.

  “I’m sorry, Juan.” She shook her head sadly and moved away. “You must think me a complete idiot. And I suppose I am. But, believe me, I rarely get into a tizzy about anything. It’s just that—”

  “Just that what?” he prompted, seating her down next to him again, aware that she was truly distressed and grasping her hand in his.

  “Well, you see, I haven’t been entirely frank with you.” Colour slashed her cheeks and her eyes avoided his.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that—well—I—to tell you the truth, there’s someone in my life,” she said in a rush. “I meant to tell you, have wanted to, but it didn’t seem relevant because I never let it go any further than friendship. But then the other day—Ay dios mio.”

  Leticia clutched her handkerchief to her lips and turned away, more tears welling in her eyes.

  “I couldn’t help myself, Juan. I never realised that I loved him, never admitted it to myself, and now it’s too late. I’m so sorry. It won’t affect our arrangement in any way, I assure you, but I didn’t feel I could marry you without you knowing why—well, if I’m not—you know—very forthcoming at first—you know what I mean…” Her voice trailed off and her head drooped in blushing embarrassment.

  “Letti, hold it a minute and let me get this straight,” Juan commanded, trying for the life of him to understand this garbled admission of guilt. “What exactly has happened? Please speak plainly, my dear. It’s too important for both of us. Are you really in love with someone else?”

  The thought sent his heart soaring.

  Then it plummeted once more.

  For what would it change? He doubted there was time to cancel the much-publicised wedding.

  “I’m afraid so, Juan. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I never dreamed of such a thing. But lately, especially since I’ve become betrothed, it’s as if something has changed, as though I see life
differently. It has nothing to do with you,” she added hastily. “It’s just that I think my feelings were already engaged before all this happened. I just wasn’t aware of it.”

  “And who is the man?” he asked, frowning. Then suddenly he remembered. “I know!” he exclaimed, looking her straight in the eye. “It’s Pablito Sanchez, isn’t it?” He brought his hand down on his thigh. “I should have guessed the other night, when I found him here with you in the study. What a damn fool I’ve been.” He let out a laugh and shook his head. “My God, Letti, what a pair we are, you and I.”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” she whispered, astonished. “You mean you’re not angry? You don’t mind?”

  “Angry?” he said, rising. “Why, Letti, it’s the best news I’ve had in goodness knows how long. If you only knew what I’ve been through these past weeks—the agony, the—Sorry,” he said raising his hands and smiling ruefully, “as you said, it has nothing to do with you.”

  “I think I know too,” she said, a slow smile dawning through her tears. “It’s Georgiana, isn’t it?”

  “How did you know?” Juan gazed down at her, eyes narrowed in surprise.

  “Well, first I wondered when she turned up on my doorstep looking so exhausted—that night when you arrived and found her here. You looked so put out. But then she told me some nonsense about a boy at the university and I bought it. I thought I must have been wrong. Oh, gosh. Is that why she went home and sent me some pathetic excuse not to be my bridesmaid? Oh, Juan, how simply awful for the poor girl. I feel dreadful. If only I’d known I could have saved both of you so much heartache.”

  “Don’t, Letti. Thank heavens you’ve told me what you just have.” He squeezed her hands in his, and then, letting them go, smiled ruefully into her eyes. “You do realise, though, that under the circumstances we really can’t be married.”

  “I know we shouldn’t. But how can we not? Think of the scandal. My mother. Dios mio. Everything is arranged—the wedding, the dresses, the invitations sent out. I dread to think what hell my life would be if I refused to marry you.”

  “Now, don’t get agitated. All we have to do is tell them the truth,” he exclaimed, grabbing her hands in his again. “Tell them that you love Pablito and I love Georgiana. Surely they’ll understand?”

  “Oh, right.” Leticia laughed witheringly. “I can just see my mother’s face when I tell her I’m dumping one of the handsomest, wealthiest, most noble men in the realm for a socialist law lecturer with no background whatsoever, whose main ambition in life is to promote student awareness of socialist causes!” she exclaimed.

  “You have a point,” Juan admitted, grimacing. “I don’t suppose if I talked to them it would help?”

  “What? Tell them you’re madly in love with one of the bridesmaids?” Leticia laughed, then sniffed and accepted his hanky gratefully. “You know, up until a few seconds ago I had a pretty good opinion of your intellect, Juan. Now I’m beginning to wonder what you’re on!” she said, laughing through her tears and recovering some of her old self-confidence.

  “But, Letti, we have to do something. Come up with some excuse they’ll buy. But first let’s have a drink,” he said, jumping up and pulling her with him. “We deserve one after all our troubles.”

  “Good idea,” she agreed, taking his hand.

  “Can you imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t spoken tonight?” he said suddenly, pulling her close and holding her in a hug. “It’s wonderful that we’re good enough friends to be open with one another. Or rather, you were my friend,” he said truthfully. “You’re not upset I didn’t tell you about Georgiana, are you?”

  “No, silly,” she said, reaching up and dropping a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure you were being discreet and loyal for all the wrong reasons—which you’d convinced yourself were the right ones, like sacrificing love on the altar of duty and all that.”

  “That pretty well sums it up,” he agreed, grinning. “Tell me, what kind of champagne do you keep in the house? You’d better get out your best bottle, Letti. This calls for a celebration.”

  “Don’t put the cart before the horse,” she warned. Then, suddenly laughing hysterically, she grabbed his arm. “I was just wondering what all our friends would say if they could see us now, rummaging about for a bottle of vintage champagne to celebrate the breaking of our engagement.” She burst into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

  It took them a full five minutes to find the bottle, recover from their mirth and sit down, the cork popped and their glasses filled, to get a concrete game plan together.

  Georgiana came out of her first ultrasound scan clutching the hazy image of a blob.

  Her blob.

  Her baby.

  Seeing the blurred image made it all become real. The being who up until now had been a concept had become a person—to whom, henceforth, she was going to dedicate her life. She had already written to the university telling them she would not be returning. But the problem now was where to go?

  She was still pretending to her mother that she wanted to study somewhere else in Europe, and although she knew she was lying to herself, as well as her parent, she still did not feel ready to face the consequences of revealing the truth. She needed time. Time on her own. Time to get used to the idea of becoming a single mother. Time to grieve for Juan and the love affair that was never to be.

  Back at Wilton Crescent, Georgiana sat in her room and glanced at the calendar. Only a week left now until Juan’s wedding to Leticia. She let out a long, sad sigh. It seemed desperately cruel that so many lives should be blighted in the name of duty. But she, Georgiana reflected, sitting up straighter, was damned if she’d surrender anything else to duty right now.

  At least if she found somewhere to go on her own she could dream about him, think about him, miss him in peace without being told what a dreadful, irresponsible dirt-bag he was. Because that was exactly how her mother would view the man who’d apparently left her daughter pregnant and alone. Forget the fact that he wasn’t even aware that she was carrying his baby. Lady Cavendish would only reason with a mother’s love.

  Georgiana smiled suddenly, placing her hand on her belly. Maybe one day she’d feel exactly the same. Perhaps some day, way down the years, the child now inside her would have similar feelings for someone and—

  She broke off and made herself return to planning the upcoming months. She must come up with a scheme. Something to take care of the near future. The rest—how to tell her mother and all that—she’d worry about later.

  Once Juan was married.

  She realised suddenly that there lay the crux of the matter. Only once she knew it was a fait accompli, that there was no changing it, no going back—once she’d read all the newspaper reports, seen all the glossy magazine pictures—would she be able to recognise the devastating truth. Then it would sink in and she would finally let go and face reality.

  But right now knowing she was losing the man she would love for ever was more than she could bear.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “WHAT do you mean, you and Juan are breaking off your engagement?” Doña Elvira, Letti’s mother, squeaked hysterically, before sinking onto the nearest chair, looking as though she was about to faint.

  Horrified looks were exchanged around the drawing room in the Avenida Castellana, as Juan, standing next to Letti, broke the devastating news to their families.

  “But this is preposterous,” Don Alvaro spluttered, his face turning a dark shade of crimson. “Unheard of.”

  “Papà, please—it is a mutual decision,” Letti pleaded, thankful for the support of Juan’s arm. “Juan and I are very fond of each other as friends, but we are not in love. We don’t feel our marriage would work.”

  “But what on earth does love have to do with it?” her mother asked weakly.

  “Everything.”

  To everyone’s surprise the Condessa’s voice broke into the cacophony of protests and they turned in surprise.

&nbs
p; “What can you possibly mean?” the Marquesa said in a querulous voice. “This is perfectly scandalous. You know as well as I do that love and marriage are not synonymous. Anyway, it is too late to cancel,” she said on a stronger note, her lips set in a thin line. “The invitations have been sent out, the table placements arranged. I can’t begin to tell you the work and the trouble, not to mention the dishonour to both our families…” She waved a trembling hand. “And as for you, Letti, you are a most ungrateful, selfish daughter to even think of cancelling the wedding.”

  “Quite right, my dear,” Don Alvaro agreed, puffing out his chest and sending Juan an angered look that expressed his feelings far better than words. “It is not fitting for you to be behaving in this absurd, ill-bred manner. Both of you know perfectly well that this marriage is most suitable. Pull yourselves together and let us hear no more of this ludicrous nonsense.”

  “But, Papà, it isn’t ludicrous nonsense,” Letti repeated, her voice surprisingly controlled, considering the brave step she was taking. “Please listen to what the Condessa has to say.”

  “And what is that?” Don Alvaro turned towards the Condessa, his eyes blazing.

  “All I want to say is this,” the Condessa said, assuming command of the situation. She sat poised and elegant in a pale blue chiffon dress and the de la Caniza diamond necklace that she’d insisted Juan take out of the safe for the occasion. “I think it is time we realised life has changed, Alvaro. Things are not as they were in our young day. It is entirely wrong for two young people to be forced into a loveless match for the sake of pride and duty.”