An Inconvenient Wife (6 page)

Fatima was waiting for them
outside the gate, looking more impatient than usual, and Anne glanced at the
watch pinned to her blouse. They
were
a bit late. The maid, after the
first few days of sitting though the music lesson, went to visit a friend once
she had seen the children inside, but always reappeared promptly at the time
agreed.

Anne paid careful attention
to her surroundings as they hurried along, but annoyingly, no stranger followed
them today.
And after you have worked up the nerve to confront him!
It
was most vexing
.
But no, there he was after all, lurking about near
Meraux’s house, and the flutter of nerves resumed in her stomach. Trying to
appear unaware of the eyes focused on her, Anne took Bonnie from Guy and bade
them good-bye, but the prickle one gets when being stared at traveled up her spine.

“I see him now, Miss Anne,”
Bill Fenton said in a low voice as he stepped up beside her. “He must have been
waiting here for us. What do you want to do?”

Eyes straight ahead, Anne
set a brisk pace. “Go to the market as we planned. I do wish you had been able
to find out more about him.”

“I could try again today. At
least go back to see if the
Senhor
Lusitain learned the fellow’s name
yesterday. Or maybe if he goes home….”

“No.” Anne cut him off in
mid-sentence. “Knowing his name is not going to tell us anything.” Bill grunted
his agreement, although a sideways glance at his face told her he was not
pleased by her insistence. But foolhardy as it may be, she felt drawn to the
man in some uncomfortable way.

They stepped into the
marketplace, and were instantly surrounded by the cries of the vendors and the
hum of conversations carried on above the noise. The area holding the herb
seller’s stall was relatively quiet, and they moved slowly in that direction.
Keeping a few steps behind Bill as he shouldered his way along the aisle, Anne
shifted Bonnie more comfortably into the crook of one arm, wishing she had
insisted that the dog stay with Maggie. She had just decided to pass the animal
to Bill when she saw the stranger leaning against a wall, staring fixedly at
her. She touched Bill on the shoulder to get his attention and stepped with him
to one side.

“He is just ahead. This is
the perfect time, while it is not so crowded—and I still have nerve enough.”

“You do not have to do
this,” Bill insisted.

Anne’s free hand fluttered
up and down in denial. “I do, I do. Here, take Bonnie.” She thrust the dog at
him, whirled around and marched toward her nemesis—who had disappeared.

Anne stopped abruptly and
stared at the spot where he had been a moment ago. How could…? The sudden hard
grip on her arm shocked her to such an extent that she allowed her captor to
guide her some distance before she found her tongue. “Just what do you think
you are doing?” she hissed, attempting to pull free.

“I am avoiding a public
scene, Miss McKenzie, which I believe you were about to initiate. Don’t worry,
your watchdog is right behind us.”

Anne glanced once at the
stranger’s stern expression, looked over her shoulder to see if Bill
was
in sight, and with a meekness that both surprised and infuriated, trotted along
beside him.

By the time they reached a
quieter side street, the anger had won out, and Anne made another, futile,
attempt to break his grip. “If you do not release me this instant, I will
scream, I swear it.” She stopped, dug in her heels and glared at him.

He looked down at her,
raised his eyebrows in a mocking expression she immediately detested, and
removed his hand from her arm. “I’m tempted to put it to the test. I don’t
think you will, but since this street is not unpopulated…. Give me a few
minutes of your time and I’ll bother you no more.”

“Are you all right, Miss
McKenzie?” Red-faced and panting, Bill hurried up and planted himself in front
of Anne. “I don’t know what your game is, Mister, but you’ve no business
accosting women like that!”

The Englishman looked at
them both for a moment, his mouth pulled into a thin-lipped smile, and he let
out a loud, harsh breath. “No, I do not. My apologies, Miss McKenzie, but it is
urgent that I speak privately with you.”

Whatever secrets the man hid
behind that now bland expression, there was enough sincerity in his unusually
clear hazel eyes to give Anne pause. She did not like his high-handedness in
the least, or the inherent arrogance lurking under the now polite surface, but
she was curious about him and his interest in the children. In fact, she
strongly suspected his
only
interest was Danielle and Guy.

Anne touched Bill on the
forearm. “I’m fine, Mr. Fenton. While I can hardly approve of Mr…?” She tipped
her head in question.

“Blackwell.”

“…Mr.  Blackwell’s manners,
I have no objection to speaking with him.” Anne lifted Bonnie, who was watching
the proceedings with great interest, into her arms. She raised her chin and
looked pointedly at him. “Not here, however. If you will accompany us to our
residence, Mr. Blackwell? You know the way.”

His mouth twitched at this
sarcastic reference to his spying, but he refrained from comment and followed
Anne and her companion along the street.

“Come in, sir.” Pleased that
her cool, calm voice displayed no inkling of the way her heart banged heavily
in her chest, Anne preceded the two men through the gate and into the
courtyard. “If you will wait here, I will join you shortly.”

The thought of inviting him
into the house was fleeting. He was not a
guest,
but a man who had
spied
on them! Besides, the rooms were too small and he was too big.
Not
burly
big, but tall and muscular for all his whip-chord thin build. He is nothing
like the Major, Anne. You must not allow him to intimidate you.
She
splashed some water on her flushed face, pushed the hair escaping from beneath
her headscarf back in place, and called to Maggie to join them before hurrying
outside.

He stood in the center of
the courtyard staring at the villa, hands clasped behind his back and Anne
hesitated in the doorway, but it seemed his hearing was acute, and he swung
around to face her.

“Why aren’t you living in
the main residence? I cannot believe the Condessa was so inhospitable. From
what I have heard of her, she is a very kind woman.”

Anne felt her face harden
with irritation. “I don’t see that it is any of your concern, Mr. Blackwell,
but I will certainly not refute her reputation. She is a kind and generous
woman and welcomed us to her home. I
chose
to stay in the gatehouse.”
Despite the note of finality in her voice, he looked as if he wanted to say
more on the subject, but Anne stepped out and indicated one of the chairs Bill
was placing near the bench.

“If you will have a seat?”
She sank down onto the bench beside the door, leaving the other chair for
Maggie. Bill preferred to stand, unless he chose to disappear altogether. He
was not much of a talker, and as she expected, went off when his wife appeared
in the doorway. “Mr. Blackwell, this is Mrs. Fenton, my companion.”

“Mrs. Fenton.”

Blackwell returned Maggie’s
curt nod and took the seat indicated.
Well, that did not bode
well
for a friendly conversation
. Maggie’s colour was as high as Bill’s, without
the excuse of rapid walking, and her black eyes snapped with distrust. Anne
leaned wearily against the wall of the house. Now that the mingled feelings of
indignation and anger had subsided, she felt exhausted and wanted nothing more
than to drink something cool and lie down on her bed.

“If you have something you
wish to discuss, Mr. Blackwell, please do so.” She folded her hands in her lap
and tilted her head in a false show of patience.

He looked from her to
Maggie, appearing to understand that any discussion included both of them, and
asked in the mildest tone she had yet heard him use, “What are you doing here
in Portugal, Miss McKenzie?”

Thrown by so unexpected a
question, Anne drew back and blinked. “That cannot be of interest to you, sir.
Indeed, I might ask the same of you, should I feel it my business, which it is
not, unless it relates to the explanation of why you have been following us
around.”

Blackwell paused for so long
a time Anne thought he was not going to answer, but finally he leaned forward,
hands resting on his knees. “That was entirely incidental. My interest is in
the Meraux children but, for various reasons, I cannot approach them directly.
I want you to arrange for me to meet them.”

“Why? What possible reason
could there be?” Anne frowned. “You must be more forthcoming, sir. My position
with the children is not so secure that it can survive having their stepfather
learn I introduced them to a strange man.” She looked straightly at him. “A
man, I might add, who does not even know that Danielle and Guy do not bear
Meraux’s name.”

His expression guarded,
Blackwell waited several minutes before a sharp, “I see,” escaped him. He
leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “I admit I know very little
about this family, and know nothing of this boy. However, I came all the way
from England to give Miss Durant something—I
do
know her name—and do it
without Meraux’s knowledge. From what I have learned since my arrival, I have
the feeling it would not be to the girl’s advantage to have her stepfather
involved.” He gave her a mocking smile. “Isn’t that the case, Miss McKenzie?”

For someone who professed to
know so little, the man was surprisingly accurate in the conclusion he’d drawn
from his observations, and Anne had no grounds to deny it. The less Meraux knew
the better for them all.

She lowered her eyes and
clasped her hands together to keep from the nervous twisting she was prone to
when upset. She looked at Maggie, knowing already she could expect no help from
the older woman, and as surmised, had nothing but a shake of the head from her.
Anne peered at her guest from under her lashes and felt a surge of annoyance at
his look of barely veiled impatience. She did not like this man, or trust him,
but in all fairness, the decision was Danielle’s. And if the girl agreed, wiser
the meeting here, under Anne’s watchful eye, than in the street somewhere.

Anne raised her head,
catching the barest hint of sympathy in Blackwell’s eyes. Perhaps he did have
some idea of how difficult this was for her. The thought, however untrue it
was, warmed her enough to produce a faint smile. “Very well, sir. If Danielle
agrees, you can speak to her here. Come tomorrow afternoon for your answer.”
She stood. “Now if you will excuse me, Mrs. Fenton will see you out.” Anne knew
it was rude, but she’d had enough of those intent eyes watching her every move,
and without another word, she fled.

Chapter Six

Blackwell—he had felt no
need to use his title— had no intention of waiting until the afternoon to meet
with Miss McKenzie again. He was still smarting from his expulsion yesterday,
and it
was
an expulsion, however politely he’d been ushered to the door.
He had found out nothing of value, about the girl, or Miss McKenzie and her
companions. What were they doing here, living in a gatehouse, instead of the
main house, where he knew they were welcome? How had she come to take those
children under her wing?
And if she wasn’t prepared to go to the wall for
them, you have totally misread her character.
He had a few questions for
the lady.

Blackwell paced rapidly
along the street, ignoring the light rain as too commonplace to notice, and
when he arrived at her gate, resisted the urge to kick it open and instead
knocked—loudly.

Her watchdog answered,
looking none too pleased to find Blackwell on his doorstep. “Mr. Fenton. Good
day. I would like to see Miss McKenzie.”

“Would you, then? I don’t
believe you are expected until later in the day, Mr. Blackwell.” Fenton stood
square in the doorway, his expression non-committal.

But not hostile.
Somewhat
encouraged, Blackwell nodded. “Yes, I know Miss McKenzie suggested an afternoon
visit, but we had little time yesterday, and it is important that I speak with
her before meeting Miss Durant. If you could ask her to spare a few minutes?”

The older man studied him
intently, and then stepped back. “Well enough. Stay here.” He waited until
Blackwell had stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him before
walking toward the house.

Blackwell moved to stand in
the shelter of a large tree. He had paid little attention to his surroundings
yesterday and took advantage of the time to examine the courtyard. As was
common to Oporto, fountains gurgled on both sides of the drive and a path of
beautifully painted tiles led to the door. Pleasant now, with cooler weather,
but he knew from experience that in the summer these courtyards were like
ovens. He preferred the rainy season. Today the rain was light, no more than a
mist. Would the lady invite him inside, or make him stand out in the wet? That
is, if she saw him at all. He was considering various avenues to pursue if she
did not, when Fenton reappeared.