Kissed by Shadows (20 page)

Luisa's eyebrows flickered a little at this. Her mother, for as long as she could remember, had dressed in unrelieved black. She was certainly a graceful figure, with the perfect poise dictated by her rigid adherence to society's rules of conduct, but it was hard to see where taste came into an endless succession of black gowns and mantillas.

However, Luisa reflected that when it came to her daughter's clothes her mother had shown no such restraint. She had made certain that Luisa was always dressed beautifully, although with perfect decorum. So perhaps Bernardina was right. Luisa felt a flash of sympathy for her mother, wondering if she might have enjoyed a more varied wardrobe if the role of wife and constantly bereaved mother and then widow hadn't dictated otherwise.

“Your fan, my dear.” Bernardina handed Luisa a painted black silk fan. “You will have little need of it tonight, 'tis cool enough, but the correct gestures can be so graceful.”

Luisa smiled and demonstrated with a flick of her wrist. She looked at her duenna over the top of the fan and Bernardina gave a little gasp. “You must not flirt, child! Indeed you must not.”

“Oh, 'tis just a game, dearest.” Luisa kissed her faded cheek. “I will not disgrace you, I promise.”

“Of course you will not.” Bernardina tutted and patted her shoulder.

Luisa glanced towards the unshuttered casement. “Oh, they are coming. See the lights.” She flew to the window, then, hearing another gasp of remonstrance from her duenna, stood against the wall, hidden by the curtain, watching the wavering light of the torch on the path below. Two cloaked figures followed the liveried watchman.

“Come . . . come . . . we must be in the hall to greet them,” Bernardina said urgently.

Luisa let the curtain fall and followed Bernardina. At the head of the stairs she heard her guardian in the hall below.

“Lord Robin . . . Lady Nielson . . . I bid you welcome.”

“Our thanks for your hospitality, Mr. Ashton,” Robin of Beaucaire said easily.

Luisa's slippered foot, extended to touch down on the top step, hung immobile. Her breath stopped in her chest.
Robin.
Her breath returned in a great swoosh. Robin and his sister. How she had longed to meet this Pippa who had defied the queen, who had been imprisoned in the Tower, and yet had managed to live the life she chose.

She was gripped with a thrill of near unbearable excitement that mingled with a delicious twinge of fear.
What could possibly have possessed him?
Was he teasing her? Testing her? Or had it simply been an accident that brought him here? He would not invite discovery . . . surely he would not?

Her chin lifted, her mouth curved in a confident smile. Either way he would see that she could handle herself in any situation. And if he
had
hoped to discompose her, he would discover that Luisa de los Velez of the house of Mendoza could play any game he could.

She flipped open her fan and followed her duenna down the stairs.

Sixteen

Lionel moved forward as his ward and her duenna descended to the hall. “Lady Nielson, allow me to present Dona Bernardina de Cardenas.”

Bernardina swept a stately curtsy that Pippa reciprocated with a friendly smile.

“And my ward, Dona Luisa de los Velez.” He took Luisa's hand and drew her forward.

Pippa smiled at the girl. “I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Dona Luisa.” Lionel's ward was not quite the child she had expected, she reflected. And she was certainly beautiful with those amazing dark eyes, creamy skin, and that glossy black hair. A little plump, perhaps, but many men considered that an asset in a woman. She cast Lionel a quick glance and wondered if he did.

Lionel introduced Robin to the two women. Robin bowed with great ceremony to Dona Bernardina and with rather less formality to the younger lady. His eyes skimmed over her and she kept her own gaze demurely on her feet.

“My lord,” she murmured from behind her fan. “I bid you welcome.”

“My thanks, Dona Luisa. And how do you find this country of ours? I trust you're enjoying your stay.”

“'Tis very quiet, sir,” Luisa said, peeping at him over her fan. “I find there are fewer diversions here than in Seville.”

“Well, that is a fault to be laid at my door,” Lionel declared, ushering his guests into the parlor at the rear of the hall. “I have been so occupied with affairs of state that there has been little time to introduce Dona Luisa to court society.”

“If the truth be told, Dona Luisa, you are missing very little,” Pippa said. “Most of the so-called entertainments are terminally dull.”

“But there must be dancing . . . music . . .” Luisa protested. “Pray take the chair, Lady Nielson.” She indicated a straight-backed chair with carved arms and sat herself on a stool beside it.

Pippa took the chair, thinking with a little shock of surprise that this girl was treating her with all the respect due an elder. Which, of course, in Luisa's eyes she was . . . a respectably married matron. Pregnant into the bargain, although Luisa couldn't know that. It was a novel position in which to find herself, and Pippa wasn't entirely sure that she enjoyed it.

Robin declined a seat, preferring to follow Ashton's lead and remain standing beside the hearth where a small fire had been kindled against the gathering chill of an autumn night.

Dona Bernardina, her stiff black skirts standing around her as if on their own legs, perched elegantly on the very edge of a chair cushioned in green velvet.

She offered an observation in Spanish. Luisa was quick to translate. “My duenna asks if you are well, Lady Nielson.”

“Very well, I thank you.” Pippa bowed her head in the duenna's direction. “I trust you are well also.”

A quick exchange and Luisa said, “Dona Bernardina is very well, she thanks you for your consideration.”

Dear God, was this going to go on all evening?
Pippa searched for some other platitudinous courtesy and suddenly met Lionel's gaze. It was so full of comprehending laughter she choked on her carefully constructed sentence.

Dona Bernardina issued a stream of incomprehensible words and Luisa jumped to her feet, offering wine to the stricken guest.

Pippa waved it away, managing between violent fits of coughing to say, “No . . . no, I thank you. I don't care for wine.”

“Lady Nielson prefers mead,” Lionel said, going to the sideboard where reposed a silver jug and a decanter of Venetian crystal. He poured from the jug into a chased silver goblet and brought it to Pippa.

Bernardina plied her fan in a vigorous attempt to cool her guest's overheated complexion, while Pippa tried politely to dispense with her ministrations, all the time acutely aware of the concern lurking beneath Lionel's blandly social countenance as he waited for her paroxysm to cease before handing her the mead.

Robin remained beside the fire, judging that Pippa had no need of his attentions. How had Ashton known she preferred mead these days? Robin had only just discovered it himself.

“Lord Robin, may I offer you wine?” Luisa was at his side. A fragrance of orange blossom and jasmine surrounded her. It was exotic. English women had no such perfume. It was exotic and yet somehow natural, as if it was embedded in her skin and hair.

“My thanks, Dona Luisa.” He took the proffered goblet and her fingers brushed his hand in a fleeting gesture that could have been accidental, except that it wasn't.

“A pastry,” Dona Bernardina said in halting English. “We have made some Spanish delicacy for our guests.” She fetched a silver tray from the sideboard and presented it to Pippa, who was now gratefully drinking from her goblet, Lionel still at her side.

Pippa looked for the most innocuous-seeming of the sweetmeats. Her childhood sweet tooth had diminished over the years and these days seemed to have disappeared almost completely.

Lionel took a pair of silver tongs and lifted a tartlet from the tray. He placed it on a tiny silver dish on the low table beside her chair. “This is filled with goat's cheese and a little honey. I think you will like it.”

“If you say so, sir,” Pippa murmured, taking a delicate bite. It was delicious. Her mouth curved, and despite the formality of the occasion she could not help observing sotto voce, “Once again your knowledge of what would appeal to a pregnant woman amazes me.”

He was clearly not amused. A frown crossed his eyes. “Spanish ladies of rank do not discuss such matters in the company of men,” he reproved in a low voice, glancing first towards Dona Bernardina, who was occupied with the platter of sweetmeats as she earnestly made her own choice, then to Luisa.

“They are not listening,” Pippa pointed out, smiling, quite unaffected by the reproof. “Luisa seems to find Robin's company more amusing than mine. Not that I would blame her for that.”

She took another appreciative bite of the tartlet. “And her duenna is rather more interested in sweets than she is in our conversation at the moment. Not that I would blame her for that. These are quite delicious.”

Her smile was so infectious, her tone so lightly mischievous that Lionel felt as stuffy as a pedantic uncle. “Spanish manners are different from English,” he said somewhat defensively.

“Oh, don't I know it!” Pippa chuckled. “There are some similarities, however, in the way we conduct certain activities. Wouldn't you say, sir?” An eyebrow lifted suggestively.

Pippa was taking an inordinate delight in this charade, Lionel reflected. He had hoped to give her pleasure, take her mind off her troubles, and it seemed he had succeeded. His supper invitation had tapped into some vein of mischief that he had glimpsed but rarely. It enchanted him and made him want to throw caution to the winds. And as a result was very dangerous.

“Luisa has led a very sheltered life,” he stated in repressive tones, but then amusement got the better of him and he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

“That's better,” Pippa said. “Now, tell me something of Seville and I'll offer no more provocation . . . although,” she added with a considering frown, “that might be a pity.”

Luisa, blithely unaware of her guardian's concerns for her maidenly sensibilities, was offering the tray of sweetmeats to Robin. “Those with the dates are very good,” she advised solemnly. “I expect you like sweet things, Lord Robin.”

“And why would you think that, Dona Luisa?” He took the tongs she held out to him and helped himself to a stuffed date.

“Oh, sometimes I know things about people,” she said with an airy wave. “I have the . . . how do you call it . . . the second sight.”

Dona Bernardina bustled over before Robin could answer. She smiled at Robin but her dark eyes were sharp and suspicious. She began a slow and solemn discourse.

Robin understood that he was being headed off. Luisa's duenna was not about to allow a tête-à-tête of any kind. He nodded politely, ate his almond-stuffed date, pretended to understand, and tried to ignore Luisa's scented presence so close to him. He knew she was laughing although her expression was one of docile attention to what her duenna was saying. Periodically she would offer a translation.

It seemed Dona Bernardina was talking of wild flowers. Robin knew nothing of wild flowers. He muttered about ragged robin, and Solomon's seal, and wild violets, names dredged from his boyhood. Luisa solemnly translated. Dona Bernardina waxed ever more eloquent on the subject.

Robin rolled his eyes desperately in Pippa's direction, but she was occupied, talking intently with Lionel Ashton. A conversation that probably had nothing whatsoever to do with wild flowers, he thought resentfully. He could not look directly at Luisa, but he was certain she was deriving great amusement from his predicament. There would be an accounting later, he promised himself.

Relief came in the shape of a servant who ceremoniously threw open double doors that led into a commodious dining hall. A long table was set with candles, flowers, and delicate porcelain. Nothing rough and ready in Lionel Ashton's establishment.

“Dona Bernardina wishes me to say that this is a supper in the true Spanish style. It is what we eat at home in Seville,” Luisa stated as she took her seat at the table.

Bernardina said something, her hands moving fluidly as she spoke. Luisa leaned closer to Pippa, who sat beside her, and whispered, “Lady Nielson, my duenna is apologizing that she cannot conduct a truly edifying conversation with her guests when you do not speak her language. It is customary for duennas to be accomplished at edifying conversations.”

Pippa glanced at her and saw the mischievous glint in Luisa's eyes, the uptilt of her mouth. She couldn't help returning the conspiratorial smile and Luisa's smile immediately became wide and confident. She reminded Pippa of herself before the world's black dog had jumped on her shoulder. She was suddenly fiercely reminded of times when she and Pen would conduct just such sotto voce observations in company. Pen, most of the time, would try to be reproving, but then her eyes would sparkle and she wouldn't be able to keep the grin from forming.

She looked across the table at Robin and surprised an intent stare. His gaze was fixed on Luisa. And there was something in his eyes that Pippa didn't think she'd ever seen there before. Her spine jumped as if she'd been alerted to some as yet unknown situation.

She looked again at Luisa and caught the unmistakable droop of one eyelid in Robin's direction.
Just what was going on here?
Robin abruptly dropped his gaze to his platter and Luisa with a demure smile asked her duenna a question about the preparation of the dish in front of her.

Pippa's lips pursed in a silent whistle. Did Lionel have no eyes? He was concerned that she raise no topic of conversation that might shock his ward's Spanish modesty, but he couldn't see that Luisa was flirting, albeit silently, with Robin.

The duenna was a different matter, Pippa decided. The woman's eyes were ever watchful, moving between Luisa and Robin. Had she seen that surreptitious wink? She must surely be aware of the way the atmosphere around the table had a lightning crackle to it; it made the fine hair on Pippa's arms stand on end. How could Lionel be unaware of it? And yet he seemed oblivious. He kept up a stream of unimpeachable small talk, touching on music, poetry, the latest dances. Luisa's responses were soft and slightly distracted, Robin on the other hand kept his end up with fluid ease. Pippa, highly amused and intrigued, did her part.

It seemed impossible that Robin and Luisa could have met before. Perhaps this was just an instant attraction. And why not? She had felt that same spark the first moment she had laid eyes on Lionel. Why not Robin and Luisa? But Luisa was a little young for Robin, she caught herself thinking. And the cultural divide was vast. Robin could not seriously court a Spaniard.

Besides, he was already courting. She was convinced of that and his denials had not changed her mind. Perhaps one woman had opened his eyes to the beauty of others. And Luisa was certainly a beauty. But she
was
a little young for Robin, nevertheless.

She was certainly too young for Lionel, and she could detect no particular closeness between ward and guardian. Pippa noted this with a degree of satisfaction that made her wonder if she had been the tiniest bit jealous. She had certainly been very curious to see this domestic situation . . . more than ordinarily curious. But Lionel's blindness in the face of whatever game his ward was playing with Robin was evidence that he had little time to notice his charge or to spend on her concerns.

A neglect that could well prove a mistake, Pippa reflected. Not that Robin would do anything dishonorable, but if Luisa was already feeling her wings it was going to be very hard to clip them. Should she mention it to Lionel? Alert him? Or would that be assuming too great an intimacy? Pippa had a feeling that it might. Lionel was so private and reticent about his own concerns, although he had no such hesitation about hers.

If this relationship was going to go anywhere it would have to be a two-way street. Pippa surprised herself with the decision. It seemed to allow the possibility of a future for them, which of course was absurd in her circumstances.