Don't Bargain with the Devil (37 page)

“Are you mad? That woman always did whatever Don Carlos commanded. I think after the regiment left she began to regret it, but she devoted herself to making sure her son made a good marriage. A pity that his wife proved barren.”

 

His mind reeling, Diego could only sit there running through everything he had believed, everything he had thought. The facts made so much more sense now. Aside from the still-peculiar one that Colonel Seton had chosen to adopt Lucy after her parents died, this explained why the “nurse” had been named Catalina. Because she
had been
Catalina.

 

It also explained why the
marqués
had not begun searching for his long-lost granddaughter sooner. It was just as Lucy had speculated. The
marqués
had waited until he had lost his son and needed an heir. Only then had he tricked Diego into retrieving her.

 

Diego winced. No, he had only himself to blame for that. If he had delayed the trip in order to come here from Cádiz and ask a few questions, he would have uncovered the real tale. But he had been so consumed by outrage over the
marqués
’s tale of an abducted Spanish girl, so blinded by his own hatred of English soldiers, that he had not bothered to be cautious. And the
marqués
’s very real illness had added to his sense of urgency.

 

He downed his brandy and ordered another. He had to tell Lucy the truth.

 

His stomach sank.
Dios Santo,
she would hate him for it, and rightfully so.

 

“Of course, it is not a pity for
me,
” the duke went on, oblivious to Diego’s torment.

 

Diego had to search his memory for what the damnable man was talking about. Ah, yes. The barren wife of Don Carlos’s late son.

 

“Now that the son is out of the running,” Don Felipe continued, “I get to step in and provide the
marqués
with
an heir.” He smirked at Diego. “I believe that is something I will enjoy.”

 

Not nearly as much as Diego would enjoy smashing the man’s face against the bar. “You are not perturbed by her dubious family background?” he gritted out.

 

The duke shrugged, swaying a little on his stool. “Her fortune makes it worth it.” His words were seriously slurred. “All those lovely properties, you know. Got to keep ’em up somehow.”

 

“What if she refuses to marry you?” Diego asked as the barkeep placed another
cońac
before him. “What if her grandfather cannot convince her?”

 

Don Felipe rolled his eyes. “The
marqués says
that it’s her choice. Bloody old man is turning into a sentimental fool now that he’s got his granddaughter back.” He tapped his forehead. “But I have got a plan, you see.”

 

Diego carefully blanked his expression. “Do you?” he said encouragingly.

 

Clutching his brandy glass, the duke looked around as if expecting spies to be lurking in the busy
taberna.
Then he leaned close. “All I have to do is seduce her. She’ll be only too eager for marriage then.”

 

Or Diego could break the brandy glass over the man’s head and slit his throat with the shards. “She may not be that easy to seduce. The British have strict rules of conduct. And her maid is a fierce protector of her.” When she was not helping Lucy get herself ruined. Diego scowled.

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Don Felipe patted his breast pocket. “I have a key.”

 

Diego blinked, not following. “To what?”

 

“To the kitchen door of the
marqués
’s house.”

 

Horror seeped into Diego’s bones. “The
marqués
gave that to you?”

 

“No, he’s much too old-fashioned to approve of seduction. I bribed a servant. Had a copy made. Easy as that.” He attempted to snap his fingers and nearly fell over. “Not my first choice but good enough. Imagine how the old man will react to finding me in her bed. Won’t have a choice then.” He winked at Diego. “Neither of them will.”

 

For a moment, Diego could only stare at the man, his mind inventing several creative tortures for the lecherous duke. But he had to be smart about this. Lucy’s well-being depended on it.

 

“Sounds like a plan that will work,” he said, forcing nonchalance into his voice. “Good luck with it. I must go now; my…er…wife is expecting me.”

 

As he rose, he bumped the duke, then apologized profusely, making a great show of dusting off his coat. When Diego left the
taberna,
he had the key in his own hand.

 

Try to seduce Lucy, would he? Try to take her by force?

 

Diego would see the man dead first. Or better yet, he would marry Lucy out from under the duke’s nose.

 

He stopped short in the street. Yes—that was the answer. She would
have
to accept Diego’s proposal now. How else could he protect her from the machinations of her grandfather and the duke?

 

Of course, when she heard of how reckless he had been to trust Don Carlos, she would be furious. It would not exactly persuade her to trust him further.

 

Fine. First, he would get her out of the
marqués
’s house and back on Rafael’s ship. Then, once he had persuaded her to marry him, he would tell her about her grandfather.

 

And make an enemy of Don Carlos in the process.

 

He considered that a moment. If Don Carlos chose to oppose him, he might never be able to gain a market for his wine, even if he could revive the vineyards. He might lose any hope of ever restoring Arboleda.

 

But it did not matter. He had wronged Lucy. He had ruined her, and now she was in trouble. There was only one way to make that right. And this time, he would brook no refusal.

 

 

 

ďťż

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-five

 

 

 

 

Dear Cousin,

 

Move the school? It has taken me years to adapt this building to my purposes. How could you even think it? Or perhaps you have another reason for your appalling suggestion. Perhaps you are reconsidering our paltry rent. You could gain much higher rents these days. Perhaps you grow tired of carrying your “cousin.”

 

Yours sincerely,

 

An outraged Charlotte

 

 

“Y
ou’re awful quiet tonight,” Nettie said as she brushed out Lucy’s hair.

 

To Lucy’s surprise, Nettie had stepped into the role of lady’s maid with aplomb. Grandfather hadn’t even guessed she’d ever been anything else. For Lucy, she was also a rock to cling to, and Lord knew she needed one these days.

 

“You miss Don Diego sumpthin’ fierce, don’t you?” Nettie asked, correctly assessing her mood as usual.

 

“Of course I miss him.” Sometimes she felt as if her heart had been excised from her chest, leaving only the hollow shell of her ribs.

 

“If you really missed him, you would fight for him,” Nettie said.

 

“How? He has duties, obligations. I can’t ask him to put them aside for me.”

 

“You never gave him the choice.”

 

“Because I knew he would do it only to satisfy his honor.”

 

Nettie snorted. “A man don’t hang around pining for a woman just for honor.”

 

“Diego would. You don’t know him.”

 

“Neither do you, if you think those looks he gives you mean nothing.”

 

Lucy set her lips in a line. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

 

Nettie brushed harder. “So you’re going to marry that ass of a duke?”

 

“No! I don’t even like him.”

 

“Well, thank God for that. You been going ’round with him so much I thought you were considering it.”

 

“I told you, Grandfather said that if I spent a week with the duke and still didn’t like him, I needn’t marry him. Indulging his request is the least I could do, considering how much my poor
abuelo
suffered all those years, not knowing where I was.” And given how her grandfather had acted about her and Diego, she dared not tell him she was unchaste. He would assume it was Diego, no matter what she said.

 

“I notice you been dropping that Spanish into your speech more and more,” Nettie said. “And you and the
marqués
have got right chummy.”

 

Lucy smiled at Nettie’s sour expression in the mirror. “I know you don’t like him much. I know you think he
should have searched for me sooner, and so do I. But he’s my only connection to my real family. And he dotes on me.”

 

It was rather sweet. It reminded her of how Papa had doted on her before he’d married.

 

She swallowed. She missed Papa, too, in spite of everything. “That’s enough hair brushing, Nettie. I’m tired. I believe I’ll retire.”

 

“I’ll be off to the kitchen then.” Nettie grinned. “Your grandfather’s handsome cook has been eyeing me for the past three days. Might just see what he’s got on his mind.”

 

As she sashayed from the room, Lucy shook her head. The woman really was an incorrigible flirt.

 

Lucy went to find her sketch pad. Gazing at her drawing of Diego was the only thing that settled her enough to sleep. She’d altered it on the trip to make it a better likeness, and now she wished she’d had him sit for others. But then she’d have had to explain why she wanted them, and that would have meant revealing her feelings.

 

The door opened behind her, and she shut the sketch pad swiftly, not wanting Nettie to see her pathetic nighttime habit. But when she turned, it wasn’t Nettie standing inside her door. It was Diego.

 

Lucy froze. Good Lord, had she dragged him out of the sketch and into flesh and blood? Or was she simply so obsessed that she imagined him everywhere?

 

Then he came toward her, and she knew he was real. “Diego! Are you insane? What are you doing here? If my grandfather finds you—”

 

“I can handle your grandfather.” He devoured her with his eyes. Then he seemed to catch himself and turned to scanning the room. “We must leave—now. Rafael says he
can be ready to sail at dawn. But we have to escape while the household is still asleep, and the duke hasn’t yet discovered that I took his key.” He strode to her closet and began tossing clothes into a pile on the bed.

 

“The duke? His key? You’re making no sense.” She was torn between throwing her arms around Diego to lock him to her forever and tossing him out before someone caught him here. “What has the duke to do with this?”

 

He held up a key. “I stole this from the duke. He had a copy made of the key to the house so he could sneak in and ‘seduce’ you—though I greatly suspect he was not terribly concerned about your opinion in the matter.” He paused, his brow knitting. “You didn’t want him, did you?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

His face cleared. “That is why I am here. He wants your fortune, and he means to get it at any cost. I mean to prevent him.”

 

“By spiriting me back to England?” she said tartly.

 

“By marrying you. That will put an end to this nonsense once and for all.” He tossed a gown at her. “Now, get dressed.”

 

“What? No! You can’t just march in here and announce that you’re marrying me!” Even if it did thrill her to her very soul. She tossed down the gown. “Besides, I’m just now getting to know my grandfather. I’m not ready to leave.” Nor was she about to get back on a ship when Papa would soon be on his way here, assuming he’d received the letter Nettie had posted.

 

“You do not understand.” He strode up to grab her by the shoulders. “That ass Don Felipe will not stop pursuing you merely because you refuse him—or even because your grandfather does. He will take you by force if he has to.”

 

“But you have his key now.”

 

“And he will have another made. There is only one way to solve this, Lucy. I will marry you. I will not be responsible for your disastrous marriage to that ass.”

 

Once again, he was only considering marriage to her because it offended his sense of honor. “I can take care of this myself.”

 

Anger flared in his face. “Some things a man has to do.”

 

Has
to do? Must she always be an obligation to him? “Yes, and my grandfather will be the one to do it. I will tell him—”

 

“You will tell him nothing!” Diego looked as if he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off, an intriguing notion, even if rather problematic. “For all I know, he has engineered this!”

 

“I doubt that.”

 

“I will not risk it.”

 

“Diego—”

 

“You are coming with me.”

 

“But you have to give me at least a chance to—”

 

“Damn it, Lucy, I will not watch yet another woman dear to me destroyed because a man takes her by force! Not now that I am old enough to stop it!”

 

She gaped at him, something Rafael had said about the soldiers in Villafranca niggling at the back of her mind.
They ignored him, bullying Diego and his mother, though Diego says little of that.

 

A cold chill raced down her back. “Oh, my Lord. Your mother was the one taken by force.”

 

He blinked, caught off guard by her blunt statement, though he didn’t deny it.

 

“The soldiers—it wasn’t just Arboleda they destroyed,” she went on, her heart twisting. “They—they hurt your mother, too.”

 

“Yes! And I will not let it happen again!” Then his expression changed, and his hands dug more firmly into her shoulders. “How did you know about the soldiers at Arboleda, Lucy?”

 

It took her a second to realize how much she’d just revealed. “I…I…”

 

“I never told you that.” He shook her. “
Dios mio,
how did you know?”

 

Her breath felt harsh and raw in her throat. “Rafael told me.”

 

Diego thrust her away with a look of shock. “That day in the wardroom?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How much did he tell you?” he bit out.

 

There seemed little point in keeping it from him now. “Everything he knew. What the soldiers did to Arboleda and your father. What you vowed.” She blinked back tears. “But he never told me about your mother. He didn’t know, did he?”