At the Spanish Duke's Command (13 page)

“Please.” Georgiana laid a hand on the Condessa's arm. “Don't be angry with him. It must be hard for him to do his duty. Just don't let him come after me. That's all I ask. I need time on my own to get over this. For him it will be different. Soon he'll be caught up in his new life and he'll forget all about me.”

“We shall see,” the Condessa replied cryptically. “But for now let us get on with seeing to your arrangements. I will tell Fernando I received a call from England and that you have to leave. That will take care of the household.”

“Thank you.” Georgiana pressed the Condessa's hand and they exchanged a long look. She felt better now that at last she had shared part of the truth.

Now, at least, she could leave with a clean conscience.

“B
UT
,
Georgiana, there is no question of your dropping out of university! You must go back to Madrid and finish your course. And as for this nonsense of refusing to be Leticia's bridesmaid—why, it's unheard of. The dresses have been fitted, the wedding party compiled. I'm very surprised that you would even think of such a thing.”

“Mother, I've already explained to Letti that I can't go through with it. She understands,” Georgiana said patiently, wishing the wave of nausea would pass.

“Just because you've had a tiff with some young man in your class? Really, Georgiana, I find it hard to believe that you would allow something so trivial to deter you from doing what I can only consider as your family duty.”

“Mother, it wasn't trivial. It was very upsetting and I'm still not over it.” Thank goodness she'd not opted to tell Lady Cavendish the truth. Yet.

“Well, I'm sorry, darling. Far be it from me to want to see you unhappy, but I do feel that a little backbone at these moments can do wonders.”

“I know you do. Perhaps you're right. I think I'd like to go away, but not back to Spain. Maybe I could transfer to Paris, or Florence, or somewhere else?”

“I hardly think that running away the minute something goes wrong is the right course of action, Georgiana. You would do better to pull yourself together and get over it there.”

“Well, I'm not going back and that's that,” Georgiana muttered in a voice that sounded petty but which she couldn't alter without giving way to her feelings.

If only her mother knew what was truly going on. But how could she tell her? How could she break the news when it was still so difficult for her to assimilate? Once she was past three months, once she felt her body changing and her tummy growing, then it would be easier somehow. But right now she just couldn't face the recriminations she knew would surely accompany such a confession, and the inevitable demand to know who the father of her unborn child was.

No, Georgiana decided, watching her mother's forbidding expression, she'd find some way around the problem, but right now telling the truth just wasn't an option.

 

“I'm shocked and appalled,” the Condessa said, eyeing Juan from her perch on a high-backed Queen Anne chair. “You have seen fit to seduce a girl whom I brought into this house under our protection. I am astounded that you would behave in such a manner.”

“
Tia
, I know very well that there is no excuse,” Juan said heavily, taking off his blazer and dropping it on the back of the chair. “My only excuse, if you can call it one, is that I love her.”

“That's all very well.”

“I know.” He nodded. “I am entirely to blame for this whole lamentable episode. When she tried to put a stop to it, I insisted. I couldn't let her go, couldn't bear to think of her in another man's arms, couldn't—” Juan cut himself off, moved towards the tray of decanters and poured himself a stiff drink. “The truth is,
Tia
, that part of me died with Leonora. Or so I thought. That is why it wasn't a problem to agree to a marriage of convenience with Letti.
And then Georgiana came so unexpectedly into my life. It was as if a light had been switched on inside me. I couldn't help what I did. We were drawn to one another like magnets.”

“I understand,” the Condessa said, her voice softening as she watched him sit heavily down on the couch, his body language so different from his usual proud tall stance. “I too have been in love. In fact I am going to tell you a story.”

Juan looked up and frowned, for the expression in his aunt's eyes was filled with love and understanding.

“When I first met your father's cousin I was engaged to be married to a
marques
in Navarra. Everything was arranged—the wedding, the bridal trip—
everything
. I didn't love him, but in those days one obeyed one's parents' wishes. And then Pedro came along. I'll never forget the moment we first met.” The Condessa's eyes went soft and misty. “We saw each other across a room at the country residence of a friend. It was a shooting party near Toledo. You remember that lovely old song ‘I took one look'? Well, that is how it was for us. I didn't care that he was an impoverished
conde
rather than the wealthy
marques
my parents had chosen for me.

“There was an awful rumpus, of course. My father threatened to cut me off without a penny. But in the end love won the day. And I loved him till the day he died. I still do.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Juan, if there is any way that you can prevent inflicting the pain that you and Letti and this poor child will all end up suffering, I counsel you to try. I know how shaming it would be for Leticia to be spurned at the last moment. But perhaps, as you're both mature people, you could find a way out?”

“Don't you think I've been beating my brains trying to find a solution,
Tia
? Believe me, there is no way,” Juan
said bitterly, taking a long gulp of whisky. “I've spent the better part of the past few days wondering how it could be achieved, but I'm afraid it would be impossible. In your case it was
you
, the woman, who broke off the engagement. In mine it would be a dishonour to Leticia's name, as well as mine.”

“You are right.” The Condessa sighed sadly. “But nevertheless I shall say my prayers. God has a funny way of righting things when they are meant to be.” Then she rose and, dropping a kiss on his brow, left the room.

“G
EORGIANA
has left again?” Leticia sat down on the plump brocade sofa and frowned at the Condessa. “That strikes me as very strange. A problem in the family, you say? She never mentioned anything.”

“Yes—a cousin whom they are very close to.”

“I see.” Leticia said no more, but she had her own ideas about why Georgiana had left—ideas that confirmed her initial suspicion. She'd been fooled by the girl saying she was going out with a boy from the university. But now it all made sense and fell into place.

“I must see Juan at once,” she said, getting up hastily and straightening her skirt. “Will he be home soon?”

“I'm afraid I can't tell you. He seems to be working himself to the bone these days. No doubt he's getting a lot done before leaving on your honeymoon,” the Condessa countered, smiling.

“No doubt. Yes. Well.” Leticia clasped her hands together, then smiled a little too brightly. “Will you please tell him that I shall be at home tonight and won't go to bed until he comes over? I have something very important I simply have to talk over with him.”

“Very well,
querida
, of course I'll tell him. But are you sure it is wise?” The Condessa looked at her long and deeply.

“Oh, yes, Condessa, I'm very, very sure.” Leticia
clasped her hands again, then extended them to the older woman, smiling. “Wish me luck,” she whispered.

Then, pressing the Condessa's hands quickly, she rushed from the room, leaving the Condessa heaving a deep sigh. What on earth was going on? Leticia was not at all herself. Also she got the impression that the news about Georgiana had very little to do with the worried expression she had read in the younger woman's eyes.

With another sigh the Condessa leaned back in the armchair. There was little she could do to help these young people. All she could do was pray that the good Lord would handle this mess in His own fashion, and that, as they sometimes did, things would turn out for the best in the long run.

 

Juan had not slept all night, and the day was a busy one, packed with unavoidable meetings. Several times he was tempted to call Georgiana in London, but each time he stopped himself.

She had gone. And he had no right to hold her back. She had made her choice. For him to impose his will now would be wrong. He was about to be married. And although he longed to maintain a relationship with Georgiana he knew he would be creating impossible obstacles in her life. When finally he received his secretary's message saying that Leticia expected him for dinner without fail the news just about crowned everything.

He would go, of course. She deserved this minimal courtesy. And he might as well get used to the fact that in less than ten days his life would change radically. The least he could do was give Leticia the respect she was owed as his fiancée.

At nine-thirty Juan rang Leticia's doorbell and waited impatiently for someone to answer.

“Good evening,” he said, and dropped a kiss on her cheek, surprised that she'd answered the door herself. “Where's Lola? Out on the tiles again?”

“I gave her the evening off.”

“I see.” He took a quick look around but she was obviously alone.

“Why don't you come in and have a drink?” Leticia said with an over-bright smile. She seemed strangely nervous, and Juan gave an inner sigh. What else lay in store for him this evening? he wondered. He sensed something was wrong and that she wanted to talk. But what about?

“I'll have a whisky,” he said, following her into the pleasant open living room and dropping onto one of the wide contemporary-styled sofas, too weary to really care.

“Juan, I know you probably think it odd that I asked you here tonight,” Leticia said, glancing at him as she poured whisky into an ice-filled glass, “but I—I need to—to tell you something.”

Juan looked up, read the anxiety in her eyes, and his heart softened. Poor Letti. He'd never bothered overmuch about her feelings, or how she felt. She always came over as so strong and capable and cheerful. It had never crossed his mind that she too might have worries of her own to deal with. When she handed him the drink he pulled her down next to him on the sofa and smiled at her.

“I'm afraid you have a very selfish future husband,” he said wryly. “Please forgive me. Lately I've been rather preoccupied with one thing and another. Tell me,
querida
, how can I help you?”

“Well, that's the thing,” she said, clasping her hands and shifting on the cushions in a nervous manner. “You can't. You see, something has happened, Juan—something I feel that it's only fair to tell you— What I mean is— Oh, this is coming out so badly!” she exclaimed, rising, hands
clasped, sudden tears making her eyes glisten and her words incoherent.

Juan frowned and looked at her amazed, unaccustomed to seeing her anything but in full control. “Leticia, what on earth is the matter?” he asked, getting up and slipping an arm around her. It was most unusual, in fact unheard of, to see her in such a nervous state.

“I'm sorry, Juan.” She shook her head sadly and moved away. “You must think me a complete idiot. And I suppose I am. But, believe me, I rarely get into a tizzy about anything. It's just that—”

“Just that what?” he prompted, seating her down next to him again, aware that she was truly distressed and grasping her hand in his.

“Well, you see, I haven't been entirely frank with you.” Colour slashed her cheeks and her eyes avoided his.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that—well—I—to tell you the truth, there's someone in my life,” she said in a rush. “I meant to tell you, have wanted to, but it didn't seem relevant because I never let it go any further than friendship. But then the other day—
Ay dios mio.
”

Leticia clutched her handkerchief to her lips and turned away, more tears welling in her eyes.

“I couldn't help myself, Juan. I never realised that I loved him, never admitted it to myself, and now it's too late. I'm so sorry. It won't affect our arrangement in any way, I assure you, but I didn't feel I could marry you without you knowing why—well, if I'm not—you know—very forthcoming at first—you know what I mean…” Her voice trailed off and her head drooped in blushing embarrassment.

“Letti, hold it a minute and let me get this straight,” Juan commanded, trying for the life of him to understand
this garbled admission of guilt. “What exactly has happened? Please speak plainly, my dear. It's too important for both of us. Are you really in love with someone else?”

The thought sent his heart soaring.

Then it plummeted once more.

For what would it change? He doubted there was time to cancel the much-publicised wedding.

“I'm afraid so, Juan. I didn't mean for it to happen. I never dreamed of such a thing. But lately, especially since I've become betrothed, it's as if something has changed, as though I see life differently. It has nothing to do with you,” she added hastily. “It's just that I think my feelings were already engaged before all this happened. I just wasn't aware of it.”

“And who is the man?” he asked, frowning. Then suddenly he remembered. “I know!” he exclaimed, looking her straight in the eye. “It's Pablito Sanchez, isn't it?” He brought his hand down on his thigh. “I should have guessed the other night, when I found him here with you in the study. What a damn fool I've been.” He let out a laugh and shook his head. “My God, Letti, what a pair we are, you and I.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” she whispered, astonished. “You mean you're not angry? You don't mind?”

“Angry?” he said, rising. “Why, Letti, it's the best news I've had in goodness knows how long. If you only knew what I've been through these past weeks—the agony, the—Sorry,” he said raising his hands and smiling ruefully, “as you said, it has nothing to do with you.”

“I think I know too,” she said, a slow smile dawning through her tears. “It's Georgiana, isn't it?”

“How did you know?” Juan gazed down at her, eyes narrowed in surprise.

“Well, first I wondered when she turned up on my door
step looking so exhausted—that night when you arrived and found her here. You looked so put out. But then she told me some nonsense about a boy at the university and I bought it. I thought I must have been wrong. Oh, gosh. Is that why she went home and sent me some pathetic excuse not to be my bridesmaid? Oh, Juan, how simply awful for the poor girl. I feel dreadful. If only I'd known I could have saved both of you so much heartache.”

“Don't, Letti. Thank heavens you've told me what you just have.” He squeezed her hands in his, and then, letting them go, smiled ruefully into her eyes. “You do realise, though, that under the circumstances we really can't be married.”

“I know we
shouldn't
. But how can we not? Think of the scandal. My mother.
Dios mio.
Everything is arranged—the wedding, the dresses, the invitations sent out. I dread to think what hell my life would be if I refused to marry you.”

“Now, don't get agitated. All we have to do is tell them the truth,” he exclaimed, grabbing her hands in his again. “Tell them that you love Pablito and I love Georgiana. Surely they'll understand?”

“Oh, right.” Leticia laughed witheringly. “I can just see my mother's face when I tell her I'm dumping one of the handsomest, wealthiest, most noble men in the realm for a socialist law lecturer with no background whatsoever, whose main ambition in life is to promote student awareness of socialist causes!” she exclaimed.

“You have a point,” Juan admitted, grimacing. “I don't suppose if I talked to them it would help?”

“What? Tell them you're madly in love with one of the bridesmaids?” Leticia laughed, then sniffed and accepted his hanky gratefully. “You know, up until a few seconds ago I had a pretty good opinion of your intellect, Juan. Now
I'm beginning to wonder what you're on!” she said, laughing through her tears and recovering some of her old self-confidence.

“But, Letti, we have to do something. Come up with some excuse they'll buy. But first let's have a drink,” he said, jumping up and pulling her with him. “We deserve one after all our troubles.”

“Good idea,” she agreed, taking his hand.

“Can you imagine what would have happened if you hadn't spoken tonight?” he said suddenly, pulling her close and holding her in a hug. “It's wonderful that we're good enough friends to be open with one another. Or rather, you
were
my friend,” he said truthfully. “You're not upset I didn't tell you about Georgiana, are you?”

“No, silly,” she said, reaching up and dropping a kiss on his cheek. “I'm sure you were being discreet and loyal for all the wrong reasons—which you'd convinced yourself were the right ones, like sacrificing love on the altar of duty and all that.”

“That pretty well sums it up,” he agreed, grinning. “Tell me, what kind of champagne do you keep in the house? You'd better get out your best bottle, Letti. This calls for a celebration.”

“Don't put the cart before the horse,” she warned. Then, suddenly laughing hysterically, she grabbed his arm. “I was just wondering what all our friends would say if they could see us now, rummaging about for a bottle of vintage champagne to celebrate the breaking of our engagement.” She burst into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

It took them a full five minutes to find the bottle, recover from their mirth and sit down, the cork popped and their glasses filled, to get a concrete game plan together.

 

Georgiana came out of her first ultrasound scan clutching the hazy image of a blob.

Her blob.

Her baby.

Seeing the blurred image made it all become real. The being who up until now had been a concept had become a person—to whom, henceforth, she was going to dedicate her life. She had already written to the university telling them she would not be returning. But the problem now was where to go?

She was still pretending to her mother that she wanted to study somewhere else in Europe, and although she knew she was lying to herself, as well as her parent, she still did not feel ready to face the consequences of revealing the truth. She needed time. Time on her own. Time to get used to the idea of becoming a single mother. Time to grieve for Juan and the love affair that was never to be.

Back at Wilton Crescent, Georgiana sat in her room and glanced at the calendar. Only a week left now until Juan's wedding to Leticia. She let out a long, sad sigh. It seemed desperately cruel that so many lives should be blighted in the name of duty. But she, Georgiana reflected, sitting up straighter, was damned if she'd surrender anything else to duty right now.

At least if she found somewhere to go on her own she could dream about him, think about him, miss him in peace without being told what a dreadful, irresponsible dirt-bag he was. Because that was exactly how her mother would view the man who'd apparently left her daughter pregnant and alone. Forget the fact that he wasn't even aware that she was carrying his baby. Lady Cavendish would only reason with a mother's love.

Georgiana smiled suddenly, placing her hand on her belly. Maybe one day she'd feel exactly the same. Perhaps
some day, way down the years, the child now inside her would have similar feelings for someone and—

She broke off and made herself return to planning the upcoming months. She must come up with a scheme. Something to take care of the near future. The rest—how to tell her mother and all that—she'd worry about later.

Once Juan was married.

She realised suddenly that there lay the crux of the matter. Only once she knew it was a
fait accompli
, that there was no changing it, no going back—once she'd read all the newspaper reports, seen all the glossy magazine pictures—would she be able to recognise the devastating truth. Then it would sink in and she would finally let go and face reality.