His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance)

by Joanna Fulford

  ‘I see.’ An ambitious man, she thought. That knowledge wasn’t particularly reassuring. ‘When do I meet him?’

  ‘At once,’ replied Ward. He glanced at Forbes. ‘Tell him to come in.’

  Sabrina closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to calm. She must do this thing. There was no other choice. Her father’s liberty was all that mattered. She heard the Major’s footsteps cross the floor and then the sound of the door opening. He spoke briefly to someone outside. Two sets of footsteps returned. She clasped her hands in her lap to keep them still and forced herself to look up. Then her heart leapt towards her throat and she found herself staring into the grey eyes of Major Falconbridge.

  Chapter Two

  Suddenly it was harder to breathe and her cheeks, so pink before, went pale. Impossible! It couldn’t be he! Of all the men in His Majesty’s army…Sabrina came out of her chair and darted a glance at Ward and then at Forbes but saw nothing in their expressions to contradict it. Dear God, what had she agreed to? The idea of walking the length of the street with this man was unappealing, never mind spending weeks in his company. The temptation to renege on her promise and walk away was almost overpowering. Then she thought of her father and took a deep breath.

  If Major Falconbridge had noticed aught amiss it wasn’t evident. Having observed the necessary social courtesies he got straight to the point.

  ‘I believe that you are to accompany me on this mission, Miss Huntley.’

  Somehow she found her voice. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I take it that you understand exactly what that entails.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘All the same, I should be grateful if you would afford me an opportunity for private speech later.’

  With an effort she kept her tone neutral. ‘As you will, Major.’

  In fact, Falconbridge had seen the fleeting expression of dismay when she realised who he was. Under any other circumstances such a meeting would have been most entertaining, but just now he felt no inclination to laugh. For a moment he had expected her to refuse point-blank to enter into the bargain, but then she had seemed to regain her composure. Forbes had apprised him of her situation and he understood now just how much her father meant to her. After their first meeting Falconbridge knew he must be the last man in the world she would ever have chosen to go anywhere with, let alone Aranjuez. He also knew that his memory hadn’t done her justice. From the beginning he had considered her attractive. Seeing her now he realised she was much more than that—spirited, too. However, looks and spirit were only part of it; she had other attributes. Ward had assured him of her linguistic ability in French and Spanish and of her usefulness to them in the past. It still hadn’t stifled his doubts. Yet somehow those documents had to be obtained and brought back for Wellington. Promotion and the release of John Huntley, though highly desirable, were secondary considerations.

  His thoughts were interrupted by General Ward. ‘You will complete your briefing today and leave for Aranjuez in the morning.’

  Sabrina’s heart lurched. So little time! Then she reflected that it might be better so; if she had more space to consider she might well refuse to go through with it. This man unsettled her too much. Such a mission required clear-headedness and a certain amount of detachment. The knowledge that she was failing in both areas only added to her mortification.

  Ward drew the meeting to a close shortly afterwards. Since Falconbridge was to be detained for a while he asked for directions to Sabrina’s present accommodation.

  ‘I will call upon you there very soon,’ he said.

  With that they said their temporary farewells and she and Albermarle left the room. For a while they walked in silence, but when they were away from the headquarters building he paused and drew her round to face him.

  ‘Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing, my dear? This mission truly is most dangerous.’

  She nodded. ‘I know but my mind is made up.’

  ‘Very well. It’s your decision, of course, but I cannot pretend that I like it.’

  * * *

  The words stayed with her long after he had gone. Though her reply had sounded confident, she was far from feeling it. However, the die was cast. Unwilling to spend too long thinking about the possibly dire consequences of her actions, she turned her mind to the practicalities. She would need to speak to Jacinta and then the two of them would pack all the necessary items for the trip. Later she would talk to Ramon and Luis. It was all very well for others to commandeer their services for this mission, but it was not the usual low-key affair, nor were they soldiers being paid to risk their lives. They needed to know of the dangers and be given the chance to opt out if they wanted to.

  Jacinta listened impassively while Sabrina explained where she would be going. She did not go into details about why, since it was classified information, but only said that it concerned her father’s safety, an explanation that she knew the maid would accept without question.

  ‘Aranjuez?’ she said then. ‘I know of it, of course, but I have never been there. It will be interesting to see.’

  ‘It will also be dangerous, Jacinta. Are you sure you want to come?’

  The girl lifted one dark eyebrow. ‘Do you think you can prevent it?’

  Sabrina smiled ruefully. ‘I doubt it, but I wanted you to know what you’re agreeing to first.’

  ‘If it were not for your father I would be dead now. He saved me after French dragoons burned and looted my village, and gave me a place in his household. Never shall I forget what I owe to him.’ Jacinta’s dark eyes burned now with inner fire. Her face, too angular for beauty, was nevertheless arresting and it concealed a sharp brain. In her mid-twenties, she had been with the Huntleys for the last five years. Ordinarily she never spoke of the past and Sabrina did not pry, though she knew the broad outlines of the story. If Jacinta wanted her to know the details she would tell her.

  ‘I miss Father so much.’

  ‘I, also,’ Jacinta replied, ‘but he is a brave and resourceful man. God will surely help him to win through.’

  ‘I pray he may.’

  ‘Meanwhile, not everything can be left to God. We play our part too, no?’

  ‘As well as we can.’

  Jacinta turned towards the clothes press. ‘Then perhaps we should begin by relieving the Almighty of the task of packing.’

  They were thus engaged when a servant appeared to say that Major Falconbridge had just arrived. Sabrina drew in a deep breath. This had to be faced and it would be as well to get it over with.

  He was waiting in the small salon. Hearing her step he turned, watching her approach. For a moment or two they surveyed each other in silence. Then he made her a neat bow.

  ‘Miss Huntley. Thank you for receiving me. I am sure you must be busy.’

  She kept her expression studiedly neutral. ‘It is of no consequence, sir.’

  ‘I shall not keep you long, but there are things that must be said.’ He gestured to the open French windows that gave out onto the garden. ‘Will you oblige me?’

  As he stood aside to let her pass, she was keenly aware of the gaze burning into her back. It was one thing to be with this man in the company of others and quite another to meet him alone. It ought not to have bothered her; after all, the army had been a large part of her life. She was quite used to the company of men but none of them discomposed her like this one. But then none of them had his rugged good looks either, or that confoundedly assured manner. He had presence, no doubt about that. It was only enhanced by the scarlet regimentals; the jacket with its gold lacings might have been moulded to those broad shoulders. She had thought she was tall, until now. It gave him an annoying advantage since she was forced to look up all the time.

  It was warm in the garden, the sunlight brilliant after the relative gloom indoors. They walked a little way down the path between the flower beds until they came to a wooden bench. There he paused.

  ‘Shall we sit awhile, Miss Huntley?
’

  She made no demur and watched as he joined her. His gaze met and held hers.

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ he said. ‘I was not…am not…in favour of your coming on this mission. It is difficult and dangerous and certainly no place for a woman.’

  ‘And I am the last woman you would have chosen into the bargain.’

  One dark brow lifted a little. ‘I did not say so.’

  ‘You didn’t have to,’ she replied. ‘But then you are the last man I would have chosen, so in that way there is balance.’

  ‘I am well aware that our first encounter was not calculated to make us friends, Miss Huntley, but personal feelings do not enter into this. My objections are based solely on the risks involved.’

  Sabrina’s chin lifted. ‘It was my choice to come, Major. The risks were explained to me.’

  ‘Were they?’

  ‘Colonel Ward made it clear that capture would probably mean death.’

  ‘Death is the best you can hope for if you are captured,’ he replied. ‘Before that there is always interrogation, and the French are not noted for their gentleness in such matters.’

  ‘Are you afraid I would talk?’

  ‘Everyone talks by the third day, Miss Huntley.’

  Suddenly the sunshine wasn’t quite as warm as it had been. ‘Are you trying to frighten me, sir?’

  ‘No, only to make you fully aware of what you are agreeing to.’ He paused. ‘The fact that you are a woman brings very particular perils.’

  It was impossible to mistake his meaning and, under that cool scrutiny, she felt a hot blush rising from her neck to the roots of her hair. Immediately she was furious with herself. He saw the deepening colour and thought it became her. It was a most agreeable foil for her eyes.

  ‘I consider the end to be worth the possible perils,’ she replied.

  ‘General Ward told me about your father. I’m truly sorry.’

  The tone sounded sincere and it took her by surprise. ‘If there is any chance that he might be released I have to take it. Surely you see that?’

  ‘I understand your motives and applaud your courage, but…’

  ‘You cannot dissuade me. I am set on going.’

  ‘Very well, but know this: I shall expect you to obey my orders to the letter. Both our lives may depend upon it.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘I hope you do because I shall not brook disobedience.’

  The threat was plain and she had not the least doubt that he meant it. Did he think her so unreliable?

  ‘I assure you, Major, that I will do nothing to jeopardise the success of this mission.’

  ‘Good.’ He paused. ‘Then we may be able to deal tolerably well together after all.’

  It was, she knew, an oblique reference to their first encounter. Unwilling to go there she sought safer ground.

  ‘There must be many things I need to know, about the Condesa de Ordoñez, I mean.’

  ‘I shall brief you on those while we travel. There will be time enough for you to assimilate the details.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  He stood. ‘Until tomorrow morning then, Miss Huntley.’

  Sabrina rose, too, and held out her hand. It was in part a conciliatory gesture. Whatever had happened before, it must not be allowed to get in the way now.

  ‘Until tomorrow, sir.’

  She had wondered if he would shake hands with her or consider a curt bow sufficient. Strong fingers closed around hers and, unexpectedly, lifted her hand to his lips. The touch sent a tremor through her entire being. For a moment the grey eyes held hers, but she could not read the expression there. Then she was free and he turned to go. She watched until he was lost to view.

  * * *

  Early next morning, as the trunks were loaded onto the carriage and the horses put to, Sabrina came down to find her godfather and her large travelling companion already waiting. With a small start of surprise she saw that Major Falconbridge had changed his uniform for civilian dress. He was clad now in fawn breeches, Hessian boots and a coat of dark blue superfine that might have been moulded to his shoulders. Snowy linen showed at wrist and throat and a single fob hung from a cream-coloured waistcoat, completing an outfit that was at once simple and elegant. It also enhanced every line of that powerful frame and rendered it more imposing.

  Unwilling to let her mind travel too far down that road, she turned her attention to their escort. Ramon and Luis were reassuring presences. As Jacinta had told her, when asked they had made it quite clear that they took their presence on this journey as read. Nor would they be dissuaded.

  ‘Your concern does you credit, Doña Sabrina,’ replied Ramon when she had told them her plans, ‘but I believe I will make up my own mind.’ The words were quietly spoken but carried an undertone that she recognised all too well.

  She made a last-ditch attempt. ‘Aranjuez is far behind French lines.’

  ‘Madre de Dios! Can it be true?’ Luis threw up his hands in mock horror. ‘In that case, Ramon and I shall remain safely here and tell your father later that we let you go alone into the lion’s den. I am sure he will understand.’

  ‘My father would not ask this of you.’

  ‘Your father is not here,’ said Ramon, ‘which means that we two are in loco parentis until his return.’

  ‘Loco is right,’ replied Luis, ‘but even crazy parents are better than none, eh?’

  Unable to think of an immediate answer to this, Sabrina had given in. With Ramon and Luis now were two of Falconbridge’s men, Corporal Blakelock and Private Willis. She recognised them from the encounter in Casa Verde. Both men seemed to be in their mid-twenties but there the resemblance ended: Blakelock’s thin, rangy frame and shock of fair hair were a complete contrast to Willis’s shorter, more compact build and straggling brown locks. They touched their caps and greeted her respectfully, neither one giving any indication that they recalled what had taken place that day in the wheelwright’s yard. She wondered whether it was natural tact on their part or whether Falconbridge had spoken to them. They were to travel in the chaise with Jacinta. Ramon and Luis would take it in turns to drive the coach. The entourage certainly looked like that of a wealthy man and, in this instance, appearances were everything.

  Sabrina had not expected that the farewell to Albermarle would be easy, and in this she was right. The craggy face surveyed her for a moment in silence and the blue eyes softened.

  ‘God bless you, my dear. I wish you all good fortune.’ He hugged her closely. Then he shook hands with Falconbridge. ‘Take care of her, Major.’

  ‘You have my word on it, sir.’

  Albermarle handed Sabrina into the carriage before turning back to the man beside him and bestowing on him a vulpine smile. Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear.

  ‘If you let any harm come to her I’ll personally cut out your liver.’

  The Major met his eye. ‘I’ll try by every means to keep her safe, sir.’

  ‘You’d better.’ Albermarle smiled at Sabrina and watched her companion climb into the coach. Then he stepped back and rapped out a command to Luis on the box. The horses leapt forwards.

  Sabrina drew in a deep breath as the coach pulled away; this was it, the beginning of the adventure. Yet she knew nothing about this man with whom she was to spend the next few weeks. This was only the second time they had been alone together. She would have preferred it to have been somewhere other than the close confines of the carriage, for she was only too keenly aware of the virile form opposite. Just then she would have given a great deal to know what he was thinking, but his expression gave nothing away.

  What was running through his mind just then was a strange mixture of emotions. Chiefly he wished with all his heart that she had not come. He was also hoping with all his heart that their mission would go without a hitch. The thought of what might happen if she ever fell into enemy hands turned him cold. Any woman would have been in d
anger, but a woman who looked like Sabrina…It was why he had tried to talk her out of coming along. She really was lovely. The green travelling dress and matching bonnet became her well, enhancing the colour of her eyes. The shade was unusual, reminding him just now of sun-shot sea water. Those same eyes darkened to emerald when she was angry, he remembered. At that moment their expression was unfathomable. He sighed inwardly. Like it or not she was with him now and he knew it would be better if they could at least get along. The fact that they didn’t was, he admitted, in great measure due to him.

  ‘It doesn’t seem quite real, does it?’ he said then.

  The words were so exactly what had been going through her own mind that she wondered if he had somehow read her thoughts.

  ‘No, indeed it doesn’t.’

  She wondered if he would attempt to make polite conversation now. In truth she had no wish for it. However, it seemed that was not his intention.

  ‘Since we are to spend some time together perhaps I should begin by telling you something of the lady you are to impersonate.’

  She acknowledged privately that it was an adroit touch. He had her full attention now. ‘I would be glad if you did. I know so little, apart from the fact that the Condesa is French—and blonde.’

  ‘Her family’s name was De Courcy. They came from Toulouse but left France during the revolution, just before the Terror, and settled in Asturias where, I understand, the family had lands.’ He paused. ‘Marianne de Courcy married Antonio Ordoñez three years ago.’

  ‘Was it an arranged marriage?’

  ‘Yes, though with the consent of both parties apparently.’

  ‘Children?’

  ‘A son called Miguel.’

  ‘And they live retired.’

  ‘Happily for our purposes, yes. The Conde prefers country life.’

  ‘All the same, there might be someone at this party who knows him or his wife.’

  The grey gaze met hers. ‘Let us hope not, for both our sakes.’ He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and drew out the object that reposed there. ‘Incidentally, you will need this.’