His Counterfeit Condesa (Historical Romance) (4 page)

Sabrina had not expected that the farewell to
Albermarle would be easy, and in this she was right. The craggy face surveyed her for a moment in silence and the blue eyes softened.

‘God bless you, my dear. I wish you all good fortune.’ He hugged her closely. Then he shook hands with Falconbridge. ‘Take care of her, Major.’

‘You have my word on it, sir.’

Albermarle handed Sabrina into the carriage before turning back to the man beside him and bestowing on him a vulpine smile. Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear.

‘If you let any harm come to her I’ll personally cut out your liver.’

The Major met his eye. ‘I’ll try by every means to keep her safe, sir.’

‘You’d better.’ Albermarle smiled at Sabrina and watched her companion climb into the coach. Then he stepped back and rapped out a command to Luis on the box. The horses leapt forwards.

Sabrina drew in a deep breath as the coach pulled away; this was it, the beginning of the adventure. Yet she knew nothing about this man with whom she was to spend the next few weeks. This was only the second time they had been alone together. She would have preferred it to have been somewhere other than the close confines of the carriage, for she was only too keenly aware of the virile form opposite. Just then she would have given a great deal to know what he was thinking, but his expression gave nothing away.

What was running through his mind just then was a strange mixture of emotions. Chiefly he wished with all his heart that she had not come. He was also hoping with all his heart that their mission would go without a hitch. The thought of what might happen if she ever fell into
enemy hands turned him cold. Any woman would have been in danger, but a woman who looked like Sabrina…It was why he had tried to talk her out of coming along. She really was lovely. The green travelling dress and matching bonnet became her well, enhancing the colour of her eyes. The shade was unusual, reminding him just now of sun-shot sea water. Those same eyes darkened to emerald when she was angry, he remembered. At that moment their expression was unfathomable. He sighed inwardly. Like it or not she was with him now and he knew it would be better if they could at least get along. The fact that they didn’t was, he admitted, in great measure due to him.

‘It doesn’t seem quite real, does it?’ he said then.

The words were so exactly what had been going through her own mind that she wondered if he had somehow read her thoughts.

‘No, indeed it doesn’t.’

She wondered if he would attempt to make polite conversation now. In truth she had no wish for it. However, it seemed that was not his intention.

‘Since we are to spend some time together perhaps I should begin by telling you something of the lady you are to impersonate.’

She acknowledged privately that it was an adroit touch. He had her full attention now. ‘I would be glad if you did. I know so little, apart from the fact that the Condesa is French—and blonde.’

‘Her family’s name was De Courcy. They came from Toulouse but left France during the revolution, just before the Terror, and settled in Asturias where, I understand, the family had lands.’ He paused. ‘Marianne de Courcy married Antonio Ordoñez three years ago.’

‘Was it an arranged marriage?’

‘Yes, though with the consent of both parties apparently.’

‘Children?’

‘A son called Miguel.’

‘And they live retired.’

‘Happily for our purposes, yes. The Conde prefers country life.’

‘All the same, there might be someone at this party who knows him or his wife.’

The grey gaze met hers. ‘Let us hope not, for both our sakes.’ He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and drew out the object that reposed there. ‘Incidentally, you will need this.’

‘What is it?’

‘A small detail, but an important one if our subterfuge is to be believed.’ He held up a gold ring.

She stared at it for a moment and then at him. ‘I had not thought of that.’

‘How should you? It is a husband’s concern, is it not?’

He reached across and took her hand, sliding the ring on her finger. It fitted well, almost as though it belonged there. However, she was not so much aware of the gold band as of the hand holding hers, a strong lean hand whose touch set her pulse racing. It lingered a few seconds longer and then relinquished its hold. He smiled faintly.

‘The adventure begins, my dear, for better or for worse.’

They settled into silence for a while after this, each occupied in private thought. Sabrina’s gaze went to the window but in truth she saw little of the passing countryside. The presence of the wedding band on her finger was a tangible reminder of the role she was expected to play
now. It might have been easier if the man opposite had been a less charismatic, less attractive figure. A plainer, duller man might have made it easier to concentrate. She forced her attention back to what she had been told, committing the detail to memory. She couldn’t afford to make a slip. Thus far she had not allowed herself to think too far ahead but now the implications of their mission crowded in, and the dangers it posed to them both.

* * *

At noon they stopped to rest the horses and to partake of a light luncheon. The inn was humble but clean and boasted a vine-covered terrace to the rear overlooking the hills. It was a far more appealing prospect than sitting indoors, and Sabrina readily agreed when he suggested they repair thither to eat. It was good to be out of the swaying vehicle for a while, and to have the opportunity to stretch her cramped limbs. While the Major bespoke luncheon, she walked to the end of the terrace and stood for a while looking out towards hills now hazy in the heat that shimmered over rock and scrub. Nothing moved in the stillness save a buzzard circling high on the warm air currents.

‘It is a fine view, is it not?’

She had not heard him approach but a swift glance revealed the tall figure at her shoulder. His closeness was disconcerting so she returned her gaze to the hills.

‘Very fine.’

‘Spain is a beautiful country, at least those parts of it I have seen.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, it is. My father always thought so, too.’

The mention of her father brought unwelcome emotions to the fore and she resolutely changed the subject.

‘The journey has made me hungry. Shall we eat?’

He could hardly miss the hint and smiled faintly. They moved back under the shade of the vines. The meal was simple and unpretentious: tender, home-cured ham, slices of Manchego cheese, green olives, pieces of spicy chorizo, freshly baked bread and a jug of red wine, but Sabrina had no fault to find with it. On the contrary, she ate with enjoyment. The ham was particularly good, almost melting in the mouth.

Falconbridge owned to some surprise, initially wondering if she would turn up her nose at such plain fare. Perhaps the lengthy travels with her father had accustomed her to such things. It pleased him to find it so. This mission would be difficult enough without being saddled with a captious female.

For the most part they ate in silence. When at last they had finished he leaned back in his chair, surveying her keenly.

‘Would you care to walk a little? It may be some time before we get another chance.’

She nodded acquiescence and rose with him. By tacit consent they strolled together towards the arroyo some hundred yards off.

‘I find that I know nothing about you, or almost nothing,’ he said then.

She glanced up at him. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Now that’s a leading question.’

‘I have nothing to hide.’ That wasn’t completely true but she had no intention of mentioning Jack Denton. Anyway it had no bearing on their mission.

‘Then tell me a little about your background, the things that General Ward did not say.’

‘There is not a great deal to tell. My mother was a Frenchwoman whose family fled Paris when the
revolution came. She died when I was twelve. Father refused to leave me with relatives and brought me with him to Iberia.’

‘An unusual upbringing for a young woman.’

‘I suppose it must seem that way to other people, though I have never considered it so.’

‘You clearly have a gift for languages.’

‘We spoke both French and English at home so the facility came early. I learned Portuguese and Spanish after my father’s posting to the Peninsula.’

‘I see. Did you never have any formal schooling?’

‘I had a governess when I was little. My father also taught me many things; more perhaps than most young ladies learn.’

‘Such as?’

‘Such as learning how to defend myself.’

Recalling their first meeting, Falconbridge smiled. ‘So the sword and pistol weren’t just for show, then?’

‘Hardly.’

‘Have you ever been called upon to use them?’

‘Yes. Father’s work took us to some remote places and once we were attacked by robbers. Fortunately Ramon and Luis were with us and we were able to drive our attackers off, but it’s not an experience I would choose to have again.’

‘I can well believe it,’ he replied. His curiosity mounted. ‘Did you never settle in one place?’

‘No, though there were some fairly lengthy spells in different locations.’

‘Did it not bother you to be always on the move?’

‘Home was wherever we happened to be. So long as Father and I were together I didn’t mind.’

‘His capture must have come as a severe blow.’

‘Yes, it did.’

‘I take it you were not there on that occasion.’

She shook her head. ‘My horse was lame and Father was only going to be away for two or three days. That was four months ago. I have not seen him since.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

Sabrina was struck again by the apparent sincerity in his tone. It was much at variance with the man she had met before.

‘I should have been with him,’ she said. ‘Perhaps then I could have done something to help.’

‘If you had been with him, my dear, you would have been killed or captured yourself.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Soldiers are not known for their chivalrous behaviour.’

She smiled innocently. ‘So I’ve noticed, sir.’

‘Touché!’

Her riposte had been justified, he admitted. All the same he hadn’t missed the mischievous glance that had accompanied it. There had been no malice in the look. On the contrary, it had been quite unwittingly seductive. The fact that it had been unintended made it all the more effective. He smiled in self-mockery. Any overture to Miss Huntley would likely result in him getting shot, or run through with a sword. She was more than capable of holding her own. It didn’t displease him. Whatever else, it meant that the journey wasn’t going to be dull.

Their stroll had brought them to the arroyo, but the stream in its stony bed was reduced to a mere trickle now. A few stunted trees clung to the margins. Heat struck upwards from the baked earth and carried with it the scent of wild thyme and dry grass.

‘Despite the shortcomings of some members of the
military,’ he continued, ‘you are fortunate to have a friend in Colonel Albermarle.’

‘He has been kindness itself. He and my father go back many years.’

‘When this mission is over you will see your father again.’

‘I pray that I may. I cannot bear to think of him in a foreign prison.’

Her expression grew wistful and he was unexpectedly touched. Her affection for her parent was clearly genuine, as was her desire for his freedom. Her youth made her seem more vulnerable. Once again he felt the weight of his responsibility.

‘How old are you, Sabrina?’

‘I’m nineteen.’ Her eyes met and held his. ‘How old are you?’

His lips twitched. ‘Eight and twenty.’

‘Now you know about me will you not tell me something of yourself?’

‘You will find it dull. Unlike you I had a most conventional upbringing: Eton, Cambridge and the army. As the younger son I was expected to carve out a career for myself. My father bought me a commission and then let me get on with it.’

‘Do you have any sisters?’

‘One. Her name is Harriet. She is four years younger than I and married now with children of her own.’

‘And your brother?’

There was an infinitesimal pause. ‘Hugh, who is two years older.’

‘Are you close?’

‘Not especially.’ It was, he thought, a massive understatement. The antipathy he had come to feel for his
brother had, at one point, come perilously close to hatred.

‘Is he married?’

The grey eyes glinted. ‘Yes. His wife is called Clarissa and they have two children.’

It had been easier to say than he had imagined. It was said that time salved all wounds; it must have made more of a difference than he had ever envisaged.

Sabrina smiled. ‘I find it hard to see you as an uncle.’

He regarded her steadily. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes, the soldier in you seems to preclude it.’

‘In truth I have seen little of my nieces and nephews,’ he admitted, ‘but that is due to the demands of the army and not to any shortcomings of theirs. I happen to like children.’

The statement was surprising and oddly pleasing. It was a side to him that she would never have suspected. They turned and began to walk back towards the inn.

‘How came you to be involved in army work?’ he continued. ‘It is an unusual occupation for a young woman.’

‘It was at my own request,’ she replied. ‘I wanted to do something towards the war effort.’

‘A noble aspiration, but not entirely without risk.’

‘The risk has been minimal, until now.’

He regarded her steadily. ‘You’ve taken a dangerous gamble, my dear.’

‘So have you.’

‘True, though I think the odds are stacked more in my favour.’

Sabrina was unable to decipher what lay behind that for the tone was compounded of several things.

‘The odds are always stacked in a man’s favour,’ she replied.

‘Doesn’t that worry you?’

‘Of course, but then much depends on the man, does it not?’

‘And I have done little to impress you thus far.’ He paused. ‘I admit that on the occasion of our first meeting my behaviour was abysmal. I suppose there’s no chance of my being forgiven?’