by Brenda Hiatt
She gave her light cloak to the footman. As she entered the room, she thought of the last time she had been here, hungry and worried about the theft of her trunk, only three days ago. So much had happened since then!
Seated on one of the cream-colored settees were a little boy dressed in dark blue and an elegant lady in a pale rose-colored gown. The lady’s dark hair was streaked with gray much the same as Lord Danebridge’s was streaked with blond. So, he takes after his mother, Falcon thought with a smile. She wondered if the lady’s eyes were gray like his.
The two looked up as Falcon and Benita entered, and Falcon saw the anticipation on their faces. It vanished quickly, to be replaced by disappointment and then curiosity.
“I am sorry,” she said, “I am not Lord Danebridge. Only another visitor who had hoped he might be here.” She smiled warmly, hoping to be friends and feeling somehow that it was of utmost importance. She hoped they were not shocked that she should be calling on the baron. “I hope I am not intruding? I had a small business matter to discuss with Lord Danebridge and thought I might wait in case he should return sometime soon.”
She supposed the expected thing would be to introduce herself, but she hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable in her role of the Spanish doña. She realized that she cared what these two people thought of her, and she hated to deceive them. This once, Falcon wished she could use her real name. It was the first time she had felt that way in a long time. But it was too soon—her business was not finished. She could not yet give up the masquerade.
“In his absence, would you permit me to introduce myself? I am called Doña Sofia Alomar de Montero.” Phrased with those words, it seemed less of a lie.
“Are you really from Spain?” Lord Danebridge’s son asked, hopping up and coming over to her to make a very proper bow. How could she not be charmed? He gazed at her with an expression of interest and smoke-gray eyes exactly like his father’s.
“I have just arrived from there,” she said carefully. “My ship came into Portsmouth six days ago.” Amazing how it seemed so much longer!
“Say something in Spanish!”
“Encantada de conocerte. Como te llamas? That means, ‘I am pleased to meet you, what is your name?’.”
“Oh!” He stopped, suddenly abashed, as if he realized then that perhaps he was being impertinent.
His grandmother rose and approached Falcon with gracious dignity. “I am Mary, Lady Danebridge, and this is my grandson, Tobias. Please forgive him—he is exceptionally curious.”
“That is a wonderful quality to have at his age,” Falcon said, flashing the child a reassuring smile. “I do not mind in the least. I am honored to meet both of you.”
“A shared pleasure,” Lady Danebridge said. “I am always pleased to meet acquaintances of my son. It happens so seldom. Please, we may as well sit,” she added, gesturing towards the settees. She and her grandson returned to their previous stations, and Falcon followed them, settling on the settee opposite them. Benita went to the seat by the window that she had used on their last visit.
Empty cups and plates that held only crumbs stood on the side table. “Have you been waiting long?”
Lady Danebridge consulted a small pendant watch that hung from her belt. “Hm. An hour, at this point. They said he has been out since this morning.”
“Goodness.” His business matter must have finally come to fruition, Falcon thought. Would that mean he would be leaving London? But now his son had come to the city!
“Do they have frogs in Spain?” Tobias asked.
“Oh, yes,” Falcon answered honestly. “And the luckiest ones have a fish pond or a fountain to live in. There are many fountains in Spain.”
“Have you ever been to a bullfight?”
Falcon laughed. “Yes, I have done that. Many fiestas include a bullfight as part of the celebrations, and I have seen one or two.”
“What is a fiesta?”
“It is like a great citywide party, with music and dancing and all sorts of entertainment for special holidays.”
“Sort of like a fair?”
“Well, yes, rather like that, only held in the city streets.”
“I’d like to see that! Did you ever see any fighting? I’ll bet everyone is glad now that Napoleon’s gone to Elba.”
Lady Danebridge stopped him there. “That is more than enough, Tobias. Poor Doña—I’m sorry, what was it?”
“Doña Alomar de Montero. Really, it is all right. I know he means no harm. Yes, Tobias, everyone in Spain is glad now that Napoleon is gone, the same as people here.” Falcon did not want a young child to hear what she had seen of the fighting.
With a rattle of china, a footman appeared in the doorway with a new tea tray and additional refreshments. It looked as though they might have a long wait.
Jeremy waited on the steps of Brookes’s while a groom fetched his curricle from the livery stable in the next block. Vaguely he noted that the street pavements were wet—it must have rained at some point. The fresh air seemed particularly bracing and the clatter of traffic in the street seemed more than usually loud. Perhaps he should have waited inside to be called, after all, or more likely, perhaps he should not have indulged in that one last glass of port. Wine and cards and companionship had seemed like a very good idea while he was at it, until it occurred to him that he should head home. He had not planned on dining at the club.
Lucky that it wasn’t raining now. He swayed as he climbed into the driver’s seat and claimed the reins from the groom. Oops. Definitely one glass too many. Well, he had driven home in worse states than this many a time. Fortunately he did not have a long way to go. But he had not learned much about Lord Coudray.
“You have visitors waiting in the front reception room,” the footman informed him as soon as he had handed over his hat and gloves inside the door at Fitzharding Street.
“Visitors!” Confound it, who? At this hour? It was very late in the day indeed for social calls. If it were any of his men reporting in, they would not be lording it in the reception room.
“Your mother and son,” pronounced the footman in sober tones. “They, and the Spanish lady, Doña Alomar de Montero.”
“The devil be blasted, what, all at once?” Did he really deserve to have all of the problems plaguing his life converge like this? What in God’s name were his mother and Tobey doing here? He scowled, and the footman backed up a step. Jeremy was not in the best shape to deal with this right now. “How long have they been here, John?”
“Your family, not quite two hours. The Spanish lady, less—perhaps three-quarters of an hour.”
He really should not keep them waiting longer. Damn! But then an intriguing thought brightened his mood. I wonder what they’ve talked about all this time. Perhaps his mother and Tobey had learned something useful about Doña Alomar. He wondered how well she had managed to keep up her pretense, especially in light of Tobey’s endless questions. The thought actually made him smile.
He allowed the footman to precede him and open the door, lest his own coordination betray him. Taking a deep breath, he walked straight in and bowed.
“Ladies, Tobey. I do apologize for keeping you waiting. Of course, I had no idea that you were here.” That came out all right, didn’t it? He hoped the smile on his face didn’t look as idiotic as it felt.
Lady Danebridge rose and went to kiss her son. “Oof, Jeremy. You’ve been at your club, I can guess. You smell like a bottle of port.” She wafted her hand in front of her, as if to ward off the fumes.
“Oh, come, mama. Not that bad.” He laughed. “And Tobey! Have you no hug for your lonely papa?”
Tobey needed no further prompting. He flung himself at his father, almost knocking him over. “Then you don’t mind that we’ve come, Papa? May we stay? Please? Grandmama thought we should keep on waiting and she said you might not have enough room in this house, since it isn’t ours. But I thought it sounded like you would still be here weeks from now. I just couldn’t bear it.”
Jeremy managed to keep his balance and hugged his son tightly, so full of love at that moment he could hardly bear it himself. This child, this bundle of questions and energy and joy, was the center of his life, or would be, from now on. But as he glanced up he saw Doña Alomar sitting with quiet grace on the settee, watching him greet his family.
What was going through her mind? The expression on her face was almost wistful, he thought. She was so very lovely. How would it feel to hold her in his arms?
Jeremy’s mind was only too quick to fill in that picture, but then he shook his head. Too much port—that must explain it. How could he be thinking about her when he was holding his son? He pulled his mind back to Tobey.
“Son, I am thoroughly delighted that you’re here. Yes, you may stay. We will find room to put you here somewhere.”
But not for long, he promised himself. Today he had made real progress towards solving the mystery of the lady from Spain. Perhaps once he knew her whole story, she would cease to fascinate him so. Perhaps then he would not feel as torn apart as he felt right this minute, as if two great forces were pulling him in opposite directions. He knew he would find it easier to put her behind him in Hertfordshire than here.
“Mama, how long will you stay?”
“Until you are able to escort us home, dear boy. There are plenty of amusements to keep us occupied in London!”
“I hope so, for I shall still be busy.”
Jeremy turned his attention to the señora. “I hope you have had a pleasant coze with my mother and son in my absence?” Somehow, the question came out sounding a bit accusatory, which he had not meant.
She stood up. “I am certain you have a number of things to do to see your family settled in. I should not be bothering you at all. I had just hoped for one moment of your time.”
“And you shall have it. Mama, you will excuse us? I will return to you and Tobey in just a moment. I have been helping Doña Alomar to deal with some problems since her arrival in the city.”
“I see,” said Lady Danebridge in a tone that told Jeremy she was seeing far too much. Damnation! Well, he would have to put her straight about that right away. In the meantime, he asked the señora to step into his study.
“My maid?”
“She is comfortable—leave her. You said this would only require a moment.”
As they left the reception room, he heard Tobey say, “But Grandmama! She never did tell me if she saw any of the fighting.”
Jeremy ushered the señora into the study ahead of him. It was one of his favorite rooms in this rather impersonal house—someone had painted the paneled walls a deep slate blue and thereon displayed a collection of tasteful English landscapes. “And did you?” he asked, carefully leaving the door to the study open behind him.
“What?”
“Ever see any of the fighting. In Spain. During the war.”
He could see by the sudden lift of her head that he had surprised her.
“It did not seem a fit topic to discuss with a child,” she answered.
“But I am not a child.” He stepped close to her. “I am a man. As I hoped you’d noticed.”
She wouldn’t look at him. In fact, she was looking everywhere but at him—she was nervous. That pleased him. He knew he was behaving abominably, but he could not seem to stop himself. He wanted so badly to shatter her mask, to make the woman she really was step out and let him see her.
Avoiding a desk, she edged sideways away from him. “Indeed. Well, it does not seem a fit topic for any polite company.” Her emphasis on “polite” felt like a glove thrown in his face.
He moved after her and stopped even closer than before, his voice low. “What if the company is not so polite?”
“Then I don’t believe any conversation is appropriate at all.”
Oh, how he would like to prove her right about that! Perhaps if he went ahead and kissed her, he would stop thinking about it and wondering what it would be like. But the drink slowed him—she moved away again. They might as well have been in a ballroom, engaged in a dance of advance and retreat.
“I had no idea that your family would be here,” she said. “I think I was wrong to wait and take up your time. But I came to ask you about posting a reward for my trunk. You do recall telling me that sometimes stolen property could be recovered by advertising, offering a reward? I was not in a position to do that a few days ago, but I would like to do so now. Can you tell me what I must do?”
Ah. He had known that sooner or later she would be bound to ask about the trunk.
“Yes. You must thank me as nicely as you know how, for I have already taken care of it all. The notices are out and the reward is posted.” He was lying, of course, but she would never know it. “Ten pounds. I hope you will feel that is sufficient?”
“Ten pounds!” He could hear in her voice that it was more than she expected, more than she could have paid. “I suppose that is wonderful! I cannot help wondering if it is so generous that you will be encouraging more thieves to indulge in stealing luggage.”
“Ah, there are already more than enough of them.” Although he did not usually count himself among them. “But I understand there are items of great sentimental value to you in this trunk.”
“Sentimental and monetary. I suppose I should be expecting too much to hope those will still be in it if we get it back.” She finally looked at him. “Do you think it is already too late? Is there a chance it will be returned?”
The note of anguish in her voice betrayed the strong feelings reflected in her eyes. Like a prod it drove him to step closer—he wanted to comfort her. But if he came too near, she would only draw away again. “It means a great deal to you, I can see. I can assure you that there is a good chance we will get it back—in fact, I am certain of it. The reward is generous.”
How grateful she would be when he returned it to her! That was a cheering thought, even if his guilt shadowed its edges.
“I am grateful to you,” she said. “You have done a great deal to help me. I hesitate to even ask, but there is one more thing…”
She looked down at her hands and he took advantage of the moment to take another step closer. “Anything, dear lady.”
She did not appear to notice his movement but began to pace rather distractedly about the small room. “I had thought—it seems wise, that is—I would like to advertise my services as a Spanish teacher. But I have no references. I thought perhaps—”
“That I could be your first student?”
“Well, no. I thought perhaps a letter…”
“Teach me some Spanish, then. How do I say, ‘Who is that pretty lady’?” That stopped her.
“There are more useful phrases we could begin with…”
“Teach me, then.” She had walked herself into a corner blocked by furniture and this time there was nowhere for her to go when he moved in on her. He positioned himself directly in front of her and lowered his voice. “How do I say, ‘I think you are as beautiful as flowers in a meadow or stars in the sky’?”
“Lord Danebridge, please.”
“That doesn’t sound like Spanish.” He grinned wickedly. “How do I say, ‘I want you to kiss me’?”
Would “the Spanish Spitfire” meet his challenge with an elbow to his ribs and a knee to his groin as she had the rude fellow at Drury Lane? Undoubtedly he deserved it, but he would not stop now. “Spanish is said to be the language of lovers. How do I say, ‘I want to make love to you’? Teach me!”
She just stood very still, staring at him with those huge green eyes. Her skin smelled faintly of jasmine. He wanted to taste it.
“You want to thank me, do you not? You want a recommendation, do you not?” His voice was husky. “All I want is one kiss.”
“That is blackmail,” she protested.
“Perhaps. I was thinking of it more as an exchange. You see how desperate you have made me? I am an unprincipled rogue, you now discover. I am not the honorable nobleman you took me for at
all. I am a villain.”
“Very well.”
Her sudden capitulation caught him by surprise. What had caused her to change her mind? She stood stiffly, her eyes closed, waiting.
“No, no, no,” he whispered, a soft chuckle lurking beneath his words. “I can see now that it is I who must teach you, querida.”
Chapter Twelve
Falcon opened her eyes in surprise when she heard the baron’s Spanish endearment, and at that precise moment he kissed her. He had slipped his arms around her waist and as he touched her lips gently with his own, he pulled her firmly against his body. Hard and soft at once—the erotic and unexpected combination triggered an onslaught of answering sensations rippling through Falcon’s own body, overwhelming her judgment. As the man’s lips moved on hers, gently nudging, exploring, she could not maintain her rigid posture but melted against him.
“Papa?”
The voice in the passageway outside struck them like a dousing of ice water. Lord Danebridge almost leaped away in his haste to have half a room between them by the time Tobey reached the doorway.
“Papa, you said you would only be a minute. I came to find you.” Tobey looked from one to the other of them, clearly seeking some explanation.
“It turned out that the señora and I had, uh, a bit more business to discuss than we thought,” the baron said, recovering himself first. “We are nearly finished. Run along back to grandmama in the other room, and we will be right along. Truly.”
Falcon felt as if his kiss had drugged her. She struggled to gather her wits. “I believe we are finished,” she said firmly as soon as the boy had left.
“Pity. That felt like the beginning of something extraordinarily nice.”
Nice? Was that what he thought? What had happened just then? He could not have meant to seduce her—not in an open room with his family and her maid two rooms away. What had he thought he was doing, then? His behavior had shocked her less than it left her puzzled and annoyed. What had truly shocked her was her own physical response.