A Minx for a Merchant : Book 5: Primrose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet)

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A Minx for a Merchant : Book 5: Primrose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 8

by Arietta Richmond


  He shook himself out of those thoughts, and stepped out of his cabin – he wanted to be on deck to watch as they came in, to see this place in detail, and savour the experience. And, if he was to be honest with himself, he wanted to do so standing beside Lady Primrose as he had in his dreams, when the shore before them had been that imaginary landscape she had drawn, the first of her work that he had seen, what seemed years ago now, but was only a matter of weeks.

  He found her, as expected, standing back from the rail, leaning against one of the stacked and lashed down barrels, drawing. The afternoon light made her dark yellow gold hair even more golden, and lit the side of her face to strong contrast. She was stunningly beautiful, and utterly unconcerned by such things. He walked across to stand beside her.

  She glanced up, met his eyes, and smiled, then went back to her drawing. Only then did he turn his eyes to the scene before him. The sea was calm, and the Island shore curved around from a peninsula to his right, past what was obviously the port, guarded by two forts, and down to where a city could be seen on the left. The spire of a cathedral rose above it.

  Behind that, the land rose steeply to a peak. The vegetation was lush, although sparser at the higher points, and a road could be seen, running a little back from the shore, from the port towards the city. The golden afternoon sunlight made it all seem almost magical. Small clouds drifted in a richly blue sky, and the sea reflected that blue, the wave caps glittering with sparks of sunlight.

  It was not quite that imaginary landscape that she had drawn, but it was close.

  Standing there, watching the land get closer, the scent of her perfume around him, and the quiet scratch of her pencil on the paper reaching him despite the calls and sounds of the sailors, he could almost believe that they were alone, not constrained by the need for chaperones. Although, he thought with a grin, his brother and Sera had singularly failed at that task, given the kisses that he and Lady Primrose had shared.

  For a moment, he looked down at her drawing, and was, as always, stunned by her skill. On the page, the scene before him was faithfully captured, all of its fine detail visible and correct. How she achieved such a thing, and so fast, was beyond his understanding. He turned his eyes back to the approaching shore, wondering what the next month would bring, as they explored this new place.

  <<<>>>

  There was no sound but that of the fountain in the courtyard. After the ship, it seemed almost wrong.

  Primrose supposed she would adjust, as her balance was already readjusting to the fact that land did not roll beneath one’s feet. Indeed, the house was beautiful – a large villa, very much in the traditional Spanish style, with many rooms on two stories, surrounding a central courtyard. The walls were whitewashed, and the courtyard boasted a veritable jungle of plants, as well as a paved area and the fountain.

  Señor Diego Pérez, a merchant with whom Lord Porthaven had previously done business, albeit for more traditional wares than the opportunity he now wished to discuss, was their host. He seemed a pleasant enough man, who spoke quite respectable English, and French, as well as his native Spanish. His wife was a cheerful woman whom Primrose immediately liked. His son, on the other hand, was somewhat arrogant in mien, and Primrose found him disconcerting, to say the least.

  Last night, by the time they had disembarked from the ship, and Lord Porthaven had spent some time with Captain Harden whilst their luggage was loaded onto a carriage hired from a merchant whose warehouse sat close to the dock, the darkness was closing in. Night came down faster here than in England, swallowing the short twilight into a deep blue before moving to full dark. When they reached Señor Pérez’s home, they had been welcomed, provided with bathing facilities, then food and drink, and shown to suites of rooms which occupied the entire length of one side of the house one floor above the ground, opening onto a balcony which overlooked the inner courtyard.

  Primrose had, once refreshed by the bath and the food, still been tired enough to fall almost instantly into a deep dreamless sleep as soon as she got into the bed. She had woken early, and now sat, looking out into the courtyard, wondering what to do.

  Intensely coloured birds moved amongst the trees of the courtyard, and bright flowers, many of which were types she had never seen before, grew in garden beds and stone planters set about the space. Perhaps she could go down and sit amongst them, and draw?

  Just as she was gathering her journal and conte crayons, Mary, Lady Porthaven’s maid, who was assisting Primrose as well for the duration of the journey, came hurrying into the room.

  “Oh! I didn’t expect you to be up yet my Lady.”

  “I slept so well that I woke early. And this is a gown that I can easily get into myself. I was just planning to go down and sit in the courtyard to draw, as I have no idea where the breakfast room might be, or indeed, if this household deals with breakfast in a manner similar to the way that we do at home.”

  Mary smiled brightly.

  “They do, my Lady – I can show you where the room is – it opens onto the courtyard, so you will easily find your way to a seat to do some drawing, once you have eaten.”

  Primrose put the journal and the small box of crayons into her capacious pockets, and followed Mary out onto the balcony, and along to the stairs. When they reached the lower level, they went along the side of the courtyard to one end of the building, where wide doors had been folded back to allow the light and air into a large room. A sideboard ran along one wall, bearing an array of foods. Sera, Raphael, and Gabriel were already seated at the table, as were their hosts, and Primrose went gladly forward to seat herself with them. Obviously, everyone else had woken early too.

  Señor Pérez smiled.

  “Good morning, Doña Primrose, I hope that you have slept well in my house?”

  “I have Señor. You have a beautiful home.”

  His smile widened, and he gave a little wave of his hand, as if to indicate that it was not important – but she could see that he was pleased.

  “You must eat, Doña Primrose – the Ilustrísima Señora Porthaven tells me that she plans that you should accompany her today, to see our magnificent Catedral de Santa Ana.”

  Primrose looked to Sera, who nodded.

  “Si Señor. I… I hope to have the chance to draw, and then paint, a faithful image of the Catedral.”

  “Draw?”

  “Si, Señor. I have some small skill at such things, and wish to develop it further.”

  Señor Cristóbal, the son of the household, looked up from his food at her words.

  “What use would a nobly born Señora have for such a skill?”

  Primrose forced herself to remain calm, to keep her expression bland and smiling, even as, internally, she wanted to scream. Why did men think that women were of use for nothing but household duties, and looking decorative?

  “I wish it for my own satisfaction, Señor Cristóbal.”

  If she attempted to say anything more, she would undoubtedly say something unwise.

  As Primrose stood, and went to the sideboard to choose food, Sera spoke.

  “Lady Primrose understates her skill, Señor. I hope to exhibit her work in my art gallery once we return to London. I expect her pieces to be in high demand, to bring good prices.”

  Señor Cristóbal looked at Sera, and Primrose could tell that he was discarding Sera’s opinion as unimportant – for obviously, a female could not understand the finer points of business. Gritting her teeth, she turned her attention to the sideboard and the footman who followed her, holding a plate, ready to serve whatever she wished.

  It all looked interesting – quite different from what she might expect at home, but the scent of it was delicious, especially after the rather plain fare which had been the standard on the ship. Even as she studied the loaded sideboard, her attention was still on the discussion behind her. She did not, she thought, like Señor Cristóbal – he seemed too arrogant for her to find him pleasant, no matter that he was well favoured to look
upon.

  At that point, Señor Cristóbal made some non-committal, almost disparaging, comment and the conversation moved on to other matters. Primrose chose a number of foods, and settled back at the table to eat. The footman poured coffee for her, and she simply listened to the others talking as she ate, watching Gabriel from under lowered lashes.

  Here, now, back in a far more formal setting, she had no idea how to go on with him. There would, she suspected, be little chance for them to even talk, and certainly not to easily be alone together.

  His eyes met hers, and she could see a reflection of her thoughts there. She gave him a sad smile, and turned her gaze back to her plate.

  As she did, she realised that Señor Cristóbal was watching her intently.

  It made her shiver – but she did not know why.

  Chapter Ten

  Gabriel sighed softly as Lady Primrose turned her eyes away from his, to concentrate on eating. He suspected that she felt as he did – unsure. This place was so very different – it was as fascinating as he had hoped, yet he felt out of place, uncertain. He would get past that, would find his way, he was certain, but doing so was likely to come at the expense of time spent with Lady Primrose. Instead, he was likely to spend most of his time with Raphael, and Señor Pérez, discussing business.

  He actually looked forward to that, for what he had seen here so far had already given him some ideas for business opportunities, beyond the secret project which Raphael was pursuing. But he would miss his conversations with Lady Primrose. Beside him, Señor Cristóbal gave a dismissive shake of his head, before rather pointedly turning his attention to Gabriel. The man appeared to have a low opinion of the capabilities of women, from what Gabriel could see. He wondered why – and also what the dynamics might be within the Pérez family – surely, he did not so disregard his own mother?

  “Señor Gabriel, what part to do you play in your family’s business?”

  Gabriel met the man’s eyes, irritation stirring within him. Breakfast on their first day here was hardly the appropriate time for what was a fairly personal question. Still, politeness was required to their host’s family.

  “I manage the daily operations of the business – since Raphael was ennobled, he spends more time on the affairs of the Earldom, and less than he used to on the business. We each have our skills, and they mesh well to produce the best results for our enterprise.”

  The young Spaniard’s face showed surprise for a moment – it would seem that he had not expected Gabriel’s role to be as significant.

  “If that is the case, and you are both here, then who…”

  Gabriel almost laughed – this was not an answer which Señor Cristóbal would find palatable, if his responses to Lady Primrose’s talent, or Sera’s comments on it were any indication.

  “Our mother. Ably assisted by Mr Manning, who plans all of our schedules, and deals with every aspect of the day to day minutiae of keeping things running perfectly.”

  Señor Cristóbal almost choked on his mouthful of food.

  “Your mother? How is that possible – a woman surely does not have the…”

  “In that assumption you would be wrong Señor. For almost a year after our father died, whilst Raphael was still at war, she ran the entire business – very, very successfully. Many women are far more competent than you may expect.”

  “Perhaps… but still… is this not a risk?”

  “Not in the least. But enough of us. Tell me about what you do in your family’s business, Señor Cristóbal.”

  A flicker of unease crossed Señor Cristóbal’s face, then he drew himself up and answered, his voice almost too loud. It was, Gabriel thought, as if he was trying to sound imposing.

  “I am an integral part of keeping our relationships with the local suppliers working in our favour.”

  “I see. What does that involve?”

  Gabriel had the momentary sense that the man did not want to answer, so he said nothing more, simply waited as he took another mouthful of his food.

  “I… ah… negotiate, and investigate the… options… to ensure that we are always given the best price, and the best goods.”

  A shiver of unease ran down Gabriel’s spine. Whilst those words could simply mean that Señor Cristóbal set about optimising the results for his family’s business as Gabriel did for theirs, he had the sense that perhaps the methods employed by the man before him were at times less honourable than his own. It was not a good thing to think of anyone, and Gabriel hoped that he was wrong, but still… He shook those thoughts aside, and merely smiled.

  “I take it that you are successful, given that your family appears to be well rewarded by the business?”

  “Indeed. We are of the highest order of local society, and want for nothing.”

  It was said with an unpleasantly arrogant pride.

  Gabriel nodded, swallowing the food, and took a sip of his coffee. If there was benefit to be had here for Morton Empire Imports, then, whether he found this man’s company pleasant or not, it was his duty to explore it, to find out all he could of how things worked here, and about what products might be available, beyond those they already knew of.

  “Perhaps, Señor Cristóbal, you might do me the honour of showing me about a little, and letting me see the sort of products which you have arranged trade for? I would wish to take advantage of your expertise.”

  Señor Cristóbal puffed up a little at the implied flattery. This, Gabriel thought, was going to be a challenging few weeks – for subtlety was not his forte, and yet he knew, for a certainty, that being blunt with this man would not produce good results.

  “Of course Señor Gabriel, I will be happy to guide you. Noting that I will not, obviously, show you anything which should be regarded, shall we say, as a commercial secret.”

  Gabriel had the impression that Señor Cristóbal was not in the least happy about the idea, no matter what he said. This was definitely going to be interesting.

  “I do understand.”

  <<<>>>

  Primrose sat on a cushion, which eased the hardness of the marble bench beneath her, and leaned back against the trunk of the huge tree which provided shade to that end of the courtyard.

  Around her, brightly coloured flowers grew in profusion, and equally bright small birds came down to fly amongst them, and to bathe in the nearby fountain. She had been sitting there sketching since shortly after breakfast, and the pages of her journal were rapidly filling with pictures of the flowers, and the birds. These sketches were not very polished – they were simply part of the process of her learning the character and proportions of these new flowers and birds – later sketches would have more detail, would take longer, but for now, she simply wanted to capture an impression of it all.

  A shadow fell across the page she was working on, and she looked up to find Sera.

  “Those are beautiful – how do you capture so much of the character of a bird in so few lines?”

  Primrose laughed.

  “These are just preliminary sketches – I will add more detail later. As to how – I don’t know, really – I just allow my fingers to reproduce what they see. And crayons, apart from allowing me to add colour, move on the paper differently from a pencil, so the visual result is different…”

  “I see. There is still so much I have to learn about different types of art. Paintings – well, those I know quite a lot about now, but this sort of work – that is new to me. But… I came to see if I could drag you away for that visit to the Cathedral? Señor Pérez has volunteered Señor Cristóbal to guide us about today. I am not sure that Señor Cristóbal is at all happy about it, but he could hardly gainsay his father.”

  Primrose put her crayons away in their box, closed the journal, and stood.

  “I must say that I am not entirely sure that I am happy about it either – especially after his disparaging attitude when told of my art. But I am sure that I can manage to be as polite to him as I am to those gentlemen of the ton wh
om I don’t like. And the Cathedral will be wonderful to see and draw. Churches of any kind almost always have beautiful lines and detail about them.”

  “They do – and this one is over 250 years old, and full of beautiful carvings and art, I am told.”

  “That sounds magnificent – give me a few minutes to change, and tidy my hair, as well as gather suitable pencils and another, larger, journal, and I will be ready to go.”

  “I will wait for you in the downstairs parlour – it is just over there,” she pointed to an open door across the courtyard.

  Primrose nodded, then turned and set off to the stairs, excitement filling her – at last, she was beginning to have the chance see this fascinating new place.

  <<<>>>

  The Cathedral was only a short walk from the Pérez villa, and Primrose looked about her as they went, fascinated by everything. The streets were lined by elegant stone buildings, and soon opened out into a large square, which was dominated by the Cathedral. About one side of the square, local merchants had small shops in the ground floor of some buildings.

  She wanted to see everything, to draw everything. To investigate those shops, to talk to the merchants.

  But Señor Cristóbal hurried on across the square, making some disparaging remark about the local merchants in response to Sera’s enquiry. Frustrated, Primrose held her tongue – they would be here for some weeks – surely she could find a chance to investigate without his annoying presence, later. Once they reached the Cathedral, he guided them inside, and Primrose found herself overwhelmed by the beauty of the space.

  Vast pillars rose to an arched, vaulted ceiling, and stained-glass windows cast a rainbow of light throughout. She dropped onto a pew, pulled out her journal and crayons, and started to draw. Señor Cristóbal glanced at her, then chose to ignore her, guiding Sera quietly around the edges of the church, pointing out the magnificent artworks which decorated it. Those, Primrose would look at later – she knew that some were painted by Juan de Miranda, a famous painter now fourteen years in the grave, whose legacy of work could be found throughout Spain.

 

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