by Sara Orwig
24
In Santiago, as the weeks passed, Lianna saw less and less of Josh, who was busy night and day. One night as he returned home, looking forward to seeing Lianna and hoping she was still awake, he was met at the door by Fletcher. “A man waits in the library, sir. Elias Reyes, a servant of Don Gerado Davio.”
Josh crossed the hall swiftly to enter the library. A man stood by the window and turned, waiting until Josh had closed the door before he spoke.
“I brought a message from Don Gerado,” Reyes said swiftly, crossing the room to speak in a low voice. “They are moving the cannon tonight from Santiago to the mountains. Don Gerardo had planned to supervise, with Alfredo Todaro assisting, but this afternoon Don Gerado was issued an invitation to dine with the governor. Can you go in his place? He said it was urgent or he wouldn’t ask.”
“Of course. When?”
“Can you come with me now? We’ll join them.”
“Yes,” Josh said, trying to keep a note of weariness out of his voice. He had barely been with Lianna for endless weeks now. He knew she was seeing more and more of General Farjado. He didn’t think her interests could be stirred by the man, yet it grated on his nerves to think of her continually in Farjado’s company. And he wondered if she knew what danger she was in and what a risk she ran associating with the Spaniard.
“Is there a way to leave other than by the front?”
“Yes, this way,” Josh said, wondering if he could work several hours alongside Paddington without the man starting another fight. Brenthaven had carefully kept them apart on assignments, but they were continually thrown together at social functions, coolly ignoring each other, although Timothy Paddington made no effort to hide the hatred in his eyes.
Josh and Reyes rode to the stable where the cannon had been hidden. Inside the stable, Rinaldo Sepulveda came forward to greet them.
“They just took one cannon and are moving down the lane. If one of you will ride after them, we need one of you here to help us with the next cannon.”
“I’ll catch them,” Josh said, and turned his horse, leaving Rinaldo giving instruction to Reyes. He moved in the shadows, letting the horse walk.
Suddenly he heard a spate of loud Spanish and then a muffled cry. He slipped off the horse and ran alongside a wall, pausing at the corner as he listened to sounds of a scuffle.
He leaned around to see a straw-covered horse-drawn cart. A man was slumped in the street, a knife protruding from his back. Two men fought, and as they tumbled to the ground, Josh recognized the pale hair of Lord Paddington.
A Spanish soldier had him by the throat, choking him and banging his head on the ground. Josh reached into his boot to withdraw his dagger and ran across the road swiftly and as quietly as possible. Without hesitation, using all his force, he drove the knife into the back of the Spanish soldier. The man collapsed at Josh’s feet.
He pushed the soldier away and pulled Timothy to his feet. Timothy gagged and coughed, leaning on the cart while Josh hoisted the body of the slain patriot onto the cart.
He pulled his dagger out of the Spaniard and swiftly took the man’s valuables, tossing them into the cart. “If I take his things, maybe his murder will seem to be because of theft. Get into the cart and pull the straw over you. I’ll get us out of here.”
He caught Timothy’s horse and tied it and his own to the back of the cart, then climbed up to drive the team of horses. The cart was old and creaking, and Josh’s nerves became raw as they moved slowly along. If a Spanish soldier were to stop them, it would be imprisonment, because Josh couldn’t hide the contents of the cart. And only blocks away behind him lay a dead Spaniard. How long before the body would be discovered and a search begun?
They left Santiago without mishap. They had picked a dark night with a sliver of a moon, but Josh felt as if a hundred eyes watched him as they wound across the plain to the mountains. He heard a rustling of straw, and Timothy Paddington climbed to the seat beside him.
After a moment of silence Timothy said, “Thank you, Captain Raven.”
“We’re on the same side,” Josh said dryly.
“You could have easily let him kill me. I thought maybe…your shot when we dueled was an accident. I realize now it wasn’t. I owe you an apology, sir.”
Josh turned to look at him, and Timothy extended his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll forget it.” Josh shook his hand.
“I listened to your…well, I didn’t think you were a man of honor, but you are. And if you are, then the other gossip I’ve heard about you must also be untrue.”
“Forget it, Lord Paddington—”
“No, sir. Timothy, please.”
Feeling a glint of satisfaction and a flickering hope that maybe he had begun to cause cracks in the solid opposition in London, Josh glanced at Timothy again. “Very well, if you’ll address me as Josh.”
“Fine. And thank you again for saving my life. That was damned brave.”
“That’s why we’re here.” Josh looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be glad when we’re across this plain.”
Finally the mountains were close, and when he looked back toward Santiago, to his relief, no one was following.
They rode back together, but parted on the edge of town. Josh hurried home, slipping in through a gate at the back and climbing the iron grillwork to the bedroom. His eyes had fully adjusted to the night, so he stood a moment looking at Lianna stretched on the bed, her hair fanned over her pillow.
Desire struck him as strongly as a blow. He reached out and caught a silky strand of hair to let it twine through his fingers as he thought of a woman he had recently met. Luisa Otero was eager to make him forget his married status, and he was tempted to see if he could forget Lianna, because as soon as they returned to England he would have to do so. He turned away abruptly and went to his room to undress, cursing the fact that he was to ride for the estancia in the morning to meet with the patriots who hid in the mountains. He wanted time with Lianna. Instead, he was caught in a web of intrigue and a coming revolution that took more of his attention every day.
Gradually Lianna saw the sights of Santiago. She wondered how the general managed the knack of appearing only when Josh was gone—was it spies in the household, or Josh himself who told the general when he would be gone?
One afternoon after a carriage ride, General Farjado accompanied Lianna inside, closing the doors to the salon.
As he faced her, he said, “It’s unfortunate that the ride to the coast is so long. I’ll be gone from here for the next few days.”
Lianna placed her gloves and reticule on a table. “Do you have to leave because of the army?”
“Sí, a Spanish fleet has docked at Valparaiso, and we’re to meet it to bring back supplies. I’ll talk with a representative of the Spanish crown.”
Lianna’s mind was still on the thought of a ship to Spain…so close to England and home! Josh’s neglect could only mean he had lost interest. The last time they had been together he had promised to end the marriage when they returned to England. He hadn’t asked, but had merely said he would. And she knew him well enough to know he did what pleased him. Every day was becoming a greater heartache and more lonely. “Will the fleet return to Spain soon?”
General Farjado lifted her chin and gazed down into her eyes. “You would like to go home.”
She looked down quickly, suddenly afraid of what she might have revealed. “This land is far from home—there are moments I miss Spain terribly.”
“You’re much too lovely to waste away locked in this house with no man to make you happy.”
“You know I have a husband!”
“A husband who is never present for a wife who was meant for love.” His hand slipped around her waist, and he drew her close.
“General, please release me!” She pushed free and walked to the window.
“Very well, but someday you’ll tire of being left alone by a husband who entertains himself continually without tho
ught of you.” His head tilted, his eyelids drooped, and he gazed at her heatedly. “You’re the most beautiful woman in Santiago and you remain closed up in an empty house with only the servants. You need a man’s lips and caresses—”
“Sir, please!” She turned to look outside. “I have to ask you to go. Good afternoon.”
General Farjado came to stand behind her, his breath warm on her neck. His fingers touched her hair lightly, stroked across her shoulder. “Why don’t you want to hear the truth?” He leaned down to kiss her nape.
“You know my husband will challenge you if he learns what you’ve said to me.” She turned around to face him.
“You can’t really care what he does,” he said mockingly.
“You don’t know my feelings!” she snapped, surprised at the assurance behind his remark.
His black eyes glittered in a manner that sent a chill through her. He answered, “You’re not a happily married woman.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Were I your husband, I would not spend evening after evening in dull political discussions with the governor. Nor spend my time at the gaming tables. Nor kiss a certain dark-eyed señorita.”
Lianna felt as if the earth had vanished beneath her feet. Her voice was an angry whisper. “General, I don’t care to hear more about my husband’s activities!”
“You’ll change,” he replied with assured complacency.
Lianna said farewell without being aware of his words. After he had gone, she remained standing, her emotions in a turmoil. Why should it matter if Josh kissed another? Why did it give her an overwhelming sense of loss? Was it true, or deceit by the general to get what he wanted? The questions began to grate on her nerves. Was Josh gone because of politics—or because of a woman? Now Lianna had to face what she truly felt for him.
Several weeks later Madryn was late for her sitting. Lianna touched up the portrait while she waited, and finally heard a step. Madryn moved gracefully across the patio and sat down in the chair to pose. The portrait was sufficiently finished that Lianna could give up her model, but she enjoyed the afternoon visit with Madryn more than the mornings spent with young matrons.
As Madryn apologized for keeping Lianna waiting, she twisted a fold of her white cotton skirt nervously. Her face was pale, and there was a pinched look to her mouth which caused Lianna to ask, “Is something disturbing you?”
Madryn’s black eyes clouded, and she whispered, “No, Doña Lita.”
It was such an obvious lie, Lianna was sorry she had asked. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Oh, no! It’s not that.” Madryn paused and her gaze swept the courtyard. With a chill foreboding Lianna glanced around and saw Juanita watering a plant.
“Madryn, there is a task upstairs. Come with me, and I’ll show you what I want done,” Lianna announced, and set down her brush.
Madryn followed Lianna upstairs to her room, where Lianna closed the door and faced her. “We’re alone now, there are no listening ears. Is there something I can do to help?”
Madryn stared at Lianna in silence. Suddenly her composure vanished as she put her hands over her face and trembled. “There is nothing anyone can do. Nothing.”
Lianna crossed the room to a carved chest, opened a drawer to find a handkerchief. “Here, Madryn. If it’s an argument with Rinaldo, then I’m sorry,” Lianna said while the maid wiped her eyes.
“Oh, no! Never that.” Madryn pushed her long black hair away from her face and shuddered. “It is the privilege of royalty…” Her voice was bitter. Then her voice faded and her eyes widened. “Dios! Doña Lita, I am truly sorry. I forget because you’re so good to me—you’re royalty.”
Lianna gave an impatient wave of her hand. “Madryn, tell me what troubles you. Perhaps it’s not as bad as you think.”
Madryn twisted the damp linen handkerchief in her hands. “I’m a mere servant, and we’re little more than slaves. A Spanish nobleman has seen me. He made inquiries and learned that I’m to marry Rinaldo soon. He sent a servant to fetch me to his house. Before…before my marriage…” She raised a tearstained face. “…I must be his.”
As full understanding dawned on Lianna she whispered in dismay, “I can’t believe such a monstrous thing! You’re no slave. Don Cristóbal will protect you. You don’t have to consent.”
“Oh, yes, I do!” Madryn answered bitterly.
“How could he force you?”
“Through my betrothed. If I inform Rinaldo, or if I do not willingly do as he asks, then Rinaldo will be arrested for disloyalty to Spain, for being a heretic.” Madryn placed the handkerchief over her eyes and wept silently.
Lianna studied her. It was another bit of evidence that what Josh had said about the rulers in Chile was true. Lianna asked, “Who is the man?”
“I cannot reveal his name.”
“In heaven’s name! How can I help you if you won’t reveal who he is?”
Madryn lowered the handkerchief from her reddened eyes. “It’s Captain Fernando Caribe.”
Instantly Lianna recalled his leering face across the dinner table at the party given by the marqués, and her stomach churned with distaste. “Madryn, no one can do something so vile. If they arrest Rinaldo on a false charge, won’t it be easy to prove his innocence? If we tell the full story to the governor, won’t that end the trouble?”
Madryn’s mouth twisted. “The governor is just as evil. They are friends; Captain Caribe helped bring Governor Marcheno to power.” She added angrily, “This is not the first time. I’ve heard girls talk and I know exactly what will take place if I don’t do as Captain Caribe wishes.”
Lianna sat down on a velvet chair and studied Madryn. “How long until you must go to Captain Caribe?”
“Four nights from now,” Madryn answered.
“Dry your eyes. I’ll do what I can to help,” Lianna said.
“There’s nothing you or anyone else can do. If I tell Rinaldo, he’ll kill Captain Caribe.”
“What would happen if you and Rinaldo ran away?”
“I see you’re not familiar with the rules of the country,” Madryn answered bitterly. “We’re not allowed to own horses. We would have to steal them, and wherever we’d ride, they would know we were on stolen animals. If we were caught, it would go harder on us—if such is possible.”
“Suppose I gave you two of our horses as a gift?”
“By law, you cannot do so.” She shook her head. “It is hopeless, truly. I’ve been warned. If we try to flee, then my mother and father will be arrested.”
“We’ll find a way,” Lianna said grimly. “That miserable man mustn’t touch you.”
Madryn reached out and touched Lianna’s hand. “You’re good, Doña Lita. Thank you for your kindness.”
Lianna gazed into the girl’s dark eyes. “I’ll help you, I promise.”
Long after Madryn had returned to her work, Lianna paced the library to contemplate the problem. She began to fully understand Josh’s anger and involvement with the patriots.
Pulling her concern from her own problems, she returned to Madryn’s. Madryn’s plight was desperate. There was one hope—Josh.
Lianna spent the day and evening pacing through the house, nervous and restless, aware of Juanita’s curious stares. Josh had been gone for weeks, and Lianna had no notion when he would return.
The next morning, three liveried servants came to the house, as was customary, to leave invitations.
Lianna watched Fletcher place one in a bowl by the front door. She stopped to pick up a card that was an invitation to coffee on Thursday morning next week. Next she opened an envelope that held an invitation to a dinner. Lianna didn’t recognize the name and left it for Josh. She picked up a thick white envelope that bore the governor’s crest. Tearing it open, Lianna read the invitation to another dinner and ball. Her gaze drifted down over the words, and she stiffened as the black lettering seemed to leap up at her: “…request your presence…dinner and ball…January 20,
1817…in honor of his excellency’s cousin and wife, the Conde and Condesa de Marcheno.”
“Señora, is something wrong?” Fletcher asked politely, his arm steadying her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered swiftly in Spanish. “I feel ill.” She held the invitation where Fletcher could see it and watched his brows draw together as he scanned the announcement.
“Dios!” he whispered. “Let me help you to the salon or summon a maid.”
“I’ll go to the salon and sit down.”
Behind them a female voice said, “May I help?”
They turned to face Juanita, whose dark eyes rested on the announcement in Lianna’s hands.
Fletcher said calmly, “Doña Lita feels ill. If you would help her to lie down, Juanita…”
“Sí.” Juanita moved beside Lianna, who was regaining her composure. She tossed the announcement into the bowl casually.
“I will finish reading the cards and invitations later.”
“I can read them to you, señora, if you prefer,” Juanita offered.
“Gracias. After I lie down, por favor.”
Lianna stretched on the sofa. The Count of Marcheno and Quita in Santiago! Lianna had been so upset over the news that she hadn’t noticed the date of the dinner. When would Josh return? She had to find him and warn him. Now what would they do? Give up this venture? Flee to El Feroz and home? Or stay and gamble on the risk? Their lives would be in Quita’s hands. Quita would guess instantly that Josh was a spy for the patriots—she would know they were not the Marqués and Marquesa de Aveiro. It would give away Quita’s secret if she revealed their identity, yet could she remain quiet knowing they were a threat to the life of her husband and his cousin?
Juanita sat close by and read the invitations. Lianna lay with her eyes closed, and when the maid had finished, said, “Juanita, gracias. I feel too ill to think about dinners or parties. Will you please return them to the silver tray for Don Cristóbal? He can see to them and let me know which we will accept.”