What reason could he give? It was sensible. Not marrying her would allow him to bring his plans to fruition. Indeed, marriage would bring only disadvantages to them both. And if the passion he felt was not enough for her . . .
As he hesitated, she stiffened. “Let me go, Diego. It is better this way.”
Reluctantly, he released her. He had bungled this, but he was not sure how. Perhaps if he had sworn his undying love—
He scowled. He would be damned if he spouted such nonsense just to have her in his bed. He still could not promise her any kind of life. In a few years perhaps, once Arboleda was restored and he had money and position, but not at present. By then, though, she would quite likely be some other man’s wife.
The thought opened a fathomless desolation in his chest that he forced himself to ignore. She was giving him what he wanted. He had to be wise and grab it with both hands.
She started to open the door, then paused, still not looking at him. “I think it best that we be careful how we act around each other from now on. We must show a front of perfect propriety. If Rafael guessed that we shared a bed, the others might, too, and that would ruin both our aims.”
A cold chill swept him. “Rafael guessed because I told him I meant to marry you, cariño.”
Her gaze shot to him in alarm. “You mustn’t call me that. Or any other endearments. We must be Miss Seton and Don Diego from now on. Understood?”
Dios Santo, the woman knew how to prick a man’s pride. Yet she was right. If they did not mean to marry, they must behave as strangers or lose everything. He managed a terse nod.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
But as she reached for the door handle again, he cried, “Wait!”
She eyed him warily. “What is it?”
He did not know. He just could not stand the thought of never having her in his arms again. “You said you enjoyed what we did last night. There is no reason we cannot . . .” Though her face grew stony, he bumbled on. “That is, I am sure Rafael would be willing to keep Nettie busy at night if we should wish to—”
“Dally?” she finished, her face impassive.
“Pleasure each other,” he countered. “We will not reach Spain for at least another two weeks, possibly three. Why not make the best of it?”
“Because I am not a whore,” she snapped. “There will be no private enjoyments.”
She left, letting the door bang shut behind her.
He stood there a long moment, staring blindly at the door. Too late, he saw how insulting his suggestion must have sounded. He had never liked being wanted only for his fame. She would hate being wanted only for her body.
Except that it was not only her body he wanted her for, damn it! He enjoyed her company. He liked how she threw herself with great fervor into whatever she did. He admired her caring treatment of her young pupils and her loyalty to those she loved—her “Papa” and Mrs. Harris and a whole school full of women. The idea of becoming a formal stranger with her did not sit well.
But the alternative was to beg, to turn into some blithering idiot whose desires controlled him. He had already done that far too much.
The door swung open, and Rafael stepped into the room, then halted, clearly taken by surprise. “I thought you were with Miss Seton.”
“I was. She just left. It seems she does not wish to marry me.”
“I see.” His friend did not look surprised. “But then you didn’t really wish to marry her, did you?”
Diego glared at him. “Is that what she told you?”
“That is what you told me, with every action and word. You came into the cabin angry this morning, stomping about, announcing in your rigid and bloodless manner that you had to marry Miss Seton. I didn’t have to tell your little captive anything. If you behaved like that with her when you proposed marriage, she would have noticed your obvious lack of enthusiasm.”
He winced. Was that how she had seen his offer? As a duty? He supposed he had presented it that way. But what had she expected, that he would profess himself thrilled by the prospect of losing Arboleda? Merely for the pleasures she might offer?
That isn’t enough, she’d said.
She was right. And she had not sounded thrilled by the prospect of being dragged from pillar to post as his wife, either. He drew himself up stiffly.
Rafael shrugged. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You made a narrow escape.” He cast Diego a considering glance. “It’s not every day that a man receives the gift of a woman’s innocence without having to suffer any obligation. How lucky is that?”
“True,” Diego said tightly.
So why did he not feel particularly lucky?
• • •
Colonel Hugh Seton blazed into the school like a one-man regiment. Charlotte could hear him coming even before he reached her office. She hurried out to meet him and his wife, Maggie, who happened to be one of Charlotte’s good friends.
“Where is this scoundrel Gaspar who had a hand in this disaster?” the colonel demanded. “I must speak to him at once.”
“I hardly think he would have remained in England if he had been part of it.” Charlotte assured the colonel. “But I will have him fetched so you can question him yourself.” Passing the order to a footman, she led the Setons into her office. “While we wait, you should look at this letter Lucy left behind.”
When she handed the colonel the missive, he gave it only a cursory glance. “My girl didn’t write this,” he said stoutly.
“Are you sure? I compared it to her other work—”
“Do you think I don’t know my daughter’s hand?” he roared. “She didn’t write it, I tell you!”
“Hugh, dear, you must calm yourself,” Maggie murmured. “Nothing can be accomplished if you have an apoplexy.”
“Aye, aye, ye’re right about that.” He shot Charlotte a worried glance. “Do you happen to know what part of Spain this Montalvo fellow is from?”
“I believe Gaspar said he was from the northeast.”
“Thank God,” the colonel said, looking a little relieved.
“Why?”
“It seems quite the coincidence that Montalvo is Spanish, when I was informed by the War Office six months ago that Lucy’s Spanish grandfather has been trying to find her. But Lucy’s mother was from a town near Gibraltar, on the opposite end of Spain from where Montalvo is from.”
A sudden shiver snaked down Charlotte’s spine. “Oh, dear.”
“What?” he asked, his relief vanishing.
“The ship that we think they left on was embarked for San Roque. That is not far from Gibraltar, is it?”
The color drained from the colonel’s face. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “Damn that bastard. All these years, her grandfather has not given her a thought. And now . . .”
As he trailed off, Maggie stared at him. “You told me Lucy had no living relations. And I know she always believed it to be true.”
He stared blindly ahead. “I had a reason for keeping it from both of you. Not that it matters now.” He lifted his gaze to Maggie. “If that devil Don Carlos has somehow lured her to Spain, it cannot be for anything good. I have to go there. I have to save her.”
“From what?” snapped a voice from the doorway. They all turned to see Gaspar standing in the doorway, his face dark with anger. “From finally knowing her family? You stole her from her parents, yet you condemn her true relations?”
Jumping to his feet, the colonel drew himself up to his full height, every bit the British officer. “I assume that you’re Montalvo’s servant, who supposedly had no hand in this.”
“I didn’t. The . . . elopement was all Diego’s idea.” Gaspar crossed his arms over his chest. “But much as I wish he’d chosen a less dramatic method of doing right by Miss Seton, I know he believes he’s acting on her behalf. Certainly it’s time she knew the truth about her parentage.”
The colonel marched up to him, his eyes a livid blue. “And what the bloody devil do you
think that is, ye damned insolent bastard?”
Unbowed, Gaspar jerked his head toward Charlotte and Maggie. “Are you sure you want them to hear?”
“I’ve done nothing wrong to hide from them,” the colonel growled. “Except protect my daughter from those who might prey on her.”
“Like her own grandfather, you mean?” Gaspar said.
“Aye. He had his chance to keep Catalina and my daughter. He gave that up when he let them leave Gibraltar with Tom Crawford. Once the marqués told Catalina she was dead to him for marrying an English soldier, he lost his chance to be anything to her. Or to his granddaughter.”
Gaspar looked taken aback. “What the devil are you talking about? The woman you’re calling Catalina was Lucy’s nurse. She stole Lucy from the real Catalina and her Spanish husband, to run off with Crawford. You had to have known that.”
“The real Catalina and her Spanish husband?” The colonel gave a harsh laugh. “Is that what that bloody arse Don Carlos told you?” A scowl knit his brow. “Oh, God, is that what your master told Lucy to get her to leave with him?”
A sobering apprehension swept over Gaspar’s face. “Dios mio,” he said hoarsely. “Are you saying . . . do you mean to tell me—”
“The man is a liar and a scoundrel, and so is your master if he’s aiding him.” Colonel Seton headed for the door. “I’ve no time for this. I’m going after my daughter. They can’t have gained too many days on us, since Lord Stoneville procured us passage here from Edinburgh on one of his ships.”
“Still, it might take a while to get a berth to Spain, Colonel,” Charlotte put in. After her brief marriage to a regimental officer, she was only too aware how difficult travel between countries could be. “And you will need documents to enter the country.”
“Stoneville is seeing to that passage as well, since I’d already anticipated I might need to go to Spain. And his friend, the duke, is taking care of the documents.”
“Hugh Seton, you scoundrel!” Maggie cried in a hurt voice. “You’d already anticipated a trip to Spain and said nothing of it to me? Indeed, it appears you’ve said very little to me about your life before you adopted Lucy.”
The colonel lost some of his fire and vigor. “Maggie, my love, I’m sorry you had to hear of this in such a fashion. There are other things, too, I should have told you—”
“Then why didn’t you?”
A flush spread over his cheeks. “Some of it I am not . . . proud of. And since I know I’m not entirely the sort of man you wanted to marry—”
“You big lummox!” Maggie’s voice was choked as she stalked up to him. “Haven’t you figured out by now that I love you just as you are? Nothing you could ever say would make me stop loving you. And if you think I’ll let you trot off to Spain after Lucy without me, you have another think coming.”
“It will be a rough voyage, love.” He grabbed her hands. “And I don’t know what we’ll find.”
“I don’t care! She’s my daughter, too. I’m going with you, and that’s that.”
After a brief hesitation, he nodded, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm.
“I wish to go with you as well,” Gaspar put in. “The Spanish will be more likely to allow you into the country if a Spaniard is with you to plead your case.”
The colonel paused to give him a cool appraisal. “If you come, I’ll expect you to tell me everything you know about Don Carlos and his plans. And everything I need to know to stop your master from furthering them.”
“I realize that.”
“Come along, then. I can use your help with the Marqués de Parama. He won’t get away with stealing my daughter.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Dear Charlotte,
I can learn nothing of Señor Montalvo’s past, but I do not have the same access to foreign affairs as I do to London gossip. If I were to believe the papers, then he is at once brilliant and foolish, generous and despicable, a great man and a small one. Which is why I never rely solely on the press for information.
Your cousin,
Michael
T he day after her discussion with Diego, Lucy stood with Nettie at the rail on deck, staring pensively out to sea. “I don’t understand men.”
“What is there to understand?” Nettie said. “If you feed ’em regular-like and give ’em a bit of ‘sugar’ now and then, they’re easy enough. And if they don’t behave, you just toss ’em out on their arses. That’s what I always say.”
Lucy smiled despite her misery.
“Ah, it’s good to see you smile, duckie.” Nettie patted her hand. “You can’t be going on so over that Don Diego. Give one man too much hold on your feelings, and you’re headed for trouble, you are.”
“Then I’m headed for trouble.”
In the heat of her disappointment yesterday, Lucy had told Nettie everything. She’d expected Nettie to call her a fool for not accepting Diego’s marriage proposal, but the tavern maid had surprised her by taking Lucy’s side.
If a man can’t at least pretend to be in love with a woman long enough to propose all proper-like, she’d said, he’ll never last a whole lifetime with her.
That was what she loved about Nettie—her practical approach to life. It was a shame she couldn’t be so practical herself, at least when it came to Diego. She didn’t want him to pretend to care about her. That wouldn’t be nearly enough.
Lucy turned her face to the wind. “I still can’t believe he had the gall to suggest that we should remain lovers for the next few weeks.”
“I still can’t believe you said no.”
“Nettie!”
The woman shrugged. “Sometimes the way to a man’s heart is through his tallywhacker.”
“His what?”
“You know.” Nettie made a vaguely obscene motion. “Ain’t you never heard a man’s privates called that?”
Lucy choked down a gasp. “Nettie, I have never heard any woman call a man’s privates anything whatsoever, much less a tallywhacker.”
“You fine ladies lead boring lives, seems to me,” Nettie said with a shake of her head. “Though I can see as how it wouldn’t be proper for a respectable female like you to have him leapin’ under your sheets every night, if he don’t mean to marry you.”
“Not in the least proper,” Lucy said firmly.
“But more fun.”
Lucy burst into laughter. “You’re very wicked, do you know that?”
“Aye. That’s why you hired me away from Don Diego.” Suddenly she leaned close to murmur, “Speak of the devil. He’s coming toward us.”
As Nettie began to sidle away, Lucy shot her a quelling glance. “Don’t you dare leave me alone with—”
Too late. Nettie had disappeared around the fo’c’sle, and Lucy could see Diego approaching from the corner of her eye.
Jerking her gaze to the ocean, Lucy tried futilely to summon up her righteous indignation. But it was no use. After spending yesterday apart from him, her tender feelings remained as hardy and inconvenient as dandelions, blooming ever hopeful when he halted beside her.
Until the chill in his manner wilted them. “I came by the cabin yesterday evening,” Diego said stiffly. “But Nettie told me you were sleeping.”
“Yes, I retired early.” Though she’d only tossed and turned. She kept remembering the last time she’d lain in that bed—and with whom.
He cleared his throat. “In any case, I thought you might like something to keep your boredom at bay for the remainder of our trip.”
He extended a box of charcoals. “You said you had no implements for drawing, so I hunted through the crew until I found a sailor with an artistic bent. Fortunately, he was willing to sell me these.”
She took the box, her heart leaping into her throat. “Thank you.” She struggled to hide just how much the small gesture meant to her. “It is most kind of you, Die—Don Diego.”
A scowl knit his brow. “Por Dios, you did not speak to me as if I were a count even before we
were intimate. I do not see why you must do so now.”
“I want to get accustomed to it before I meet my grandfather.” She was terrified she would give away how much Diego meant to her. What good would refusing him do if he ended up losing everything he’d fought for anyway?
She managed a smile. “Haven’t you learned I’m not good at governing my tongue? If I slip up and call you Diego, he might guess the worst.”
“Yes, and we dare not risk that.” His voice was snide, but his eyes seemed to eat her up. “It would be the end to your precious freedom.”
“And yours,” she pointed out, annoyed. She was doing this for him, after all.
Of course, he didn’t know that. Must never know that. So how could she blame him for his anger? She’d deliberately pricked his pride and put an end to his half-hearted decision to marry her.
Yet it still hurt that he’d acquiesced, that he’d wanted her for nothing more than a bed partner. That would always hurt. After their night together, she couldn’t imagine herself marrying any other man.
Apparently, he had no such problem. He seemed perfectly content to hand her over to her grandfather.
“Thank you again for the charcoal, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Nettie I’d show her how to play piquet.”
She fled, managing to suppress her tears until she was in the companionway stairs. Bother it all, she had to stop this! Nettie was right—she had to stop mooning over a man who only wanted her to shore up his honor. She couldn’t let him ruin his future because of some injury to his pride. She couldn’t do that to the man she loved.
Loved?
The truth walloped her as suddenly as the swinging boom of a sail, making her halt in the stairwell.
Good Lord—she loved him. With all her heart.
Oh, no, how could she have gone and fallen in love again? And this time with a man twice as wonderful—and twice as inaccessible—as Peter. Although, honestly, Peter had been a mere infatuation, the foolish object of her girlish fancies.
Diego, on the other hand . . . How brave he must have been to endure what the soldiers had done to his family. How strong to have tried, even futilely, to save his family’s estate. And at twelve, for a boy of such privilege to be forced to learn a new way of life and yet succeed! It showed astonishing determination.
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