He smiled. “Yes, my dear, I remarried several years ago. An old fool, you might say, but wait till you meet her. She has just gone up to change and is never speedy in these matters, so there is plenty of time for you two to wash and prepare yourself. And no need to dress for dinner. We shall be quite informal here tonight,en famille.” Quite disregarding the fact he was in formal satin knee breeches, silk stockings, and a beautifully cut coat. “Now, run along with Pedro here. He will show you to your rooms and see to your every need.” He beamed. “Little Isabella, all married and grown up. Such a pleasure, my dear.”
Alone in the sumptuous bedchamber allotted them, they changed out of their riding clothes. Looking far too delicious in her chemise, corset, and stockings, but entirely unaware of her effect on him, Isabella brushed out her hair, while Luke shaved in his underwear. They’d handed her red dress and silk shawl and Luke’s coat and shirt to Pedro for ironing.
Luke wished they’d had an hour before dinner. What was it about that corset?
“I wonder who Tío Raul married? He’s been a widower as long as I can remember.”
Luke wiped the last of the lather off his chin and dried his face. He had little interest in the newmarquésa.
Isabella started to rebraid her hair in her customary coronet. It framed her face perfectly. “He fought Napoleon, you know. When Papa died, themarquéstook command of Papa’sguerrilleroforce.”
Luke was surprised. “Thoseguerrillerosled a hard life. It couldn’t have been easy for an—”
“Don’t dare say an old man.” She laughed. “He’d never forgive you. Particularly with a new wife, who from the sounds of things might be quite a bit younger.”
Their clothes came back pressed and immaculate, and they quickly dressed and went downstairs.
“Come in, come in,” themarquésgreeted them. “My wife sent a message that she will be a little delayed and that we must start without her.” He turned up his hands in a helpless male expression. “Women, never on time. Let us go in.”
He ushered them into a large dining room where the walls were encrusted with gloomy painted ancestors. The first course was brought in, a dozen different dishes, all looking and smelling delicious. “Eat, eat,” he urged. “You will be hungry after your long journey.” They needed no further encouragement.
“I understand you are traveling on horseback. You were an intrepid horsewoman as a little girl, but now…” He paused delicately. Wondering if Isabella’s husband was a careless brute or simply strapped for cash, Luke decided.
“We’re in a hurry,” Isabella told him. “My husband has an important engagement in England, and it is quicker to travel on horseback than in a carriage. Besides,” she flashed themarquésa quick grin, “I enjoy it. For too many years I was shut up in a convent, and the one time my husband made me travel in a carriage I was so bored. I cannot tell you what a joy it is to gallop over the hills in the fresh air.”
And the cold and the wind and the rain, thought Luke. Without complaint.
The old gentleman laughed. “You haven’t changed, dear child. Now, tell me, how did you two meet? I can’t say I approve, an Englishman taking my little Isabella out of Spain.”
Isabella stilled, her face suddenly pale. Did she really imagine Luke would tell her belovedmarquésthe dreadful circumstances that had brought them together?
“It was a chance encounter,” Luke said easily. “One of those things. One meeting and that was it. My fate sealed.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized how she would take them. He hadn’t meant that, not at all. He’d meant it to sound romantic.
Themarquésnodded. “It was like that for themarquésaand me. We met a year ago, in Madrid. She’d had a terrible war, poor girl. Lost every one of her family, as with so many of us.” His glance embraced Isabella in acknowledgment of her own loss.
He lifted his wineglass. “But we must rebuild, must we not? To Spain, and to rebuilding.”
They drank the toast.
“Toasting me? How kind,” purred a sultry voice. A woman in her midthirties glided in, dressed in a dark red dress cut low to frame a magnificent bosom, cinched tight at a narrow waist, and sleek over voluptuous hips. Hair, black as a raven’s wing, was drawn back in an elegant coiffure, highlighting perfect skin, delicate cheekbones, and full, rouged lips.
No secret why themarquéshad married her.
The scent of roses emanated from her perfect body.
Luke’s gorge rose.
“Ah, my dear.” Themarquésrose to greet his wife, and Luke rose with him, jerkily, shoving his chair back so roughly that it almost fell. A servant caught it.
Themarquésperformed the introductions. Luke barely heard a word.
He couldn’t think. His skin grew clammy. From the other side of the table he heard Isabella give a meaningful cough. He didn’t so much as glance at her.
“Delighted to meet you, Lord Ripton.” Themarquésaheld out her hand to him. Luke made no move to take it. He stared at the elegant, outstretched hand as if it were a cobra.
The lustrous dark eyes widened, then narrowed. They caressed his face, drifted down his body and up again, then came to rest just below his right shoulder. The rouged lips curved in a tiny smile.
She laughed, a rich contralto chuckle. “So delightful that I can still have that effect on a young man.”
