Читать книгу The Arrogant Duke - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 7

HER room overlooked the sea, with a balcony on which was a long, low lounger where it would be heaven to sit on hot days. The room, decorated in shades of blue and green and grey, with a bathroom to match, was luxurious and comfortable.

Consuelo stood down her cases, and looked at her with her smiling eyes. ‘This is all right, senhorita?’

‘Oh, yes, thank you, Consuelo. It’s wonderful. But–’ She halted, and Consuelo looked at her sympathetically.

‘The senhora means what she says,’ she said understandingly. ‘The Duque will not dismiss you without reason.’

Juliet sighed and sank down on to the bed. ‘But – well, the Duque apparently didn’t even know I was coming!’

‘No, senhorita.’

Juliet frowned. ‘That woman – who is she? Is that his wife?’

Consuelo laughed, folding her arms across her heavy breasts. ‘No, senhorita. The Duque is not married. The Senhora Vinceiro is the widow of his cousin, Pépé. She lives here on Venterra, not far from the quinta.’

‘I see.’ Juliet shook her head, still feeling rather bewildered. ‘When – when will I see the Senhorita Teresa?’

‘Whenever you are ready, senhorita. Senhorita Teresa is with Senhorita Madison at the moment. She has been acting as both nurse and companion since Senhorita Weston was dismissed.’

Juliet had so many questions she wanted to ask. She wanted to know about this fiasco the Duque had spoken about, she wanted to know why Laura Weston had been dismissed, she wanted to know exactly what influence this Estelle Vinceiro had in the quinta. She felt almost amused as she recalled her thoughts on the journey here. They had been wholly to do with the problems she had left behind. She had not known she was coming to face far more.

Consuelo moved to the door. ‘It is now a little after twelve, senhorita. I suggest I bring your lunch to your room, to enable you to unpack and relax for a while. After siesta, which the Senhorita Teresa always takes in her room, I will come and take you to have afternoon tea with her, sim?’

Juliet rose to her feet again. ‘That sounds delightful, Consuelo, thank you.’ She twisted her fingers nervously. ‘Do you – do you think the Duque will want to see me again?’

Consuelo spread wide her hands in a typical continental gesture. ‘Who can say, senhorita? But if you are resting he will not ask me to disturb you. So – I go. If you need anything, ring the bell.’

After Consuelo had gone, Juliet lifted her cases and threw them on the bed. Then she removed the jacket of her suit, and walked lazily on to the balcony. Although she had not been travelling very long this morning, she suddenly felt drained of energy, and she sat down on the lounger and lit a cigarette before attempting to do anything.

In a while, the events of the last few minutes assumed rather less serious proportions, as she saw the amusing side of it all. What a situation! She wished Rosemary were here to share it with her.

A tap at the door heralded the arrival of a young maidservant with a tray containing her lunch. There was a fresh fruit cocktail, pork fried with rice, and a kind of ice cream gateau, followed by coffee and more fruit. It was a very delicious meal, and after she had finished, Juliet felt a little more like work. She opened her cases, hung away her clothes in a capacious fitted wardrobe, and then went into the bathroom to shower before resting on her bed for a while. She had closed her window shutters, and the light slatted through the blinds cast dancing shadows on the ceiling. She watched them for a while, and then her eyelids drooped and she slept.

She awoke refreshed, but startled, with a firm tapping going on at her door. Sliding off the bed, she wrapped herself in a nylon wrapper and opened the door about six inches. Consuelo was outside.

‘It is after four, senhorita. I have told the Senhorita Teresa you are to have tea with her.’

‘Lord!’ Juliet gasped. ‘I’m sorry, Consuelo, I’m not ready. Will you wait five minutes?’

‘Very well, senhorita,’ Consuelo agreed, but she sounded less than pleased.

Juliet fumbled her way into a white crimplene dress, sleeveless, with a high cuffed neckline, and not too short a skirt. Her hair, immaculately pleated earlier, now hung in wisps and with careless fingers she wrenched out the hairgrips and brushed it savagely. It fell, thick and straight to her shoulders, sherry-coloured and very attractive. Cursing to herself for sleeping so long, she began to wind it back into its pleat, when Consuelo tapped again.

‘Senhorita,’ she said persistently, ‘please hurry.’

Juliet lost control of the hair, and it fell loose again. ‘Oh, blast, blast, blast!’ she exclaimed angrily, and then with decision, she combed it smooth and looked at her reflection disconsolately. It was no good. She needed plenty of time and patience to dress it in the pleat, and anyway, she might be going to get the sack, so what did it matter?

She emerged from the bedroom and Consuelo looked at her in surprise. ‘Such pretty hair, senhorita,’ she exclaimed delightedly.

Juliet looked rueful. ‘But rather impractical,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Consuelo. I fell asleep, I’m afraid.’

Consuelo seemed unperturbed now. ‘It is the climate,’ she said, firmly. ‘Most have the siesta! It is a good idea, sim?’

‘Hmm,’ agreed Juliet enthusiastically, feeling more ready to face any challenge which might come her way.

They descended the main staircase to the wide hall, and then out on to the patio that surrounded the central courtyard. The patio was tiled with mosaic in a variety of colours, while tubs of flamboyants and the ever-present climbing bougainvillea added their own tropical beauty to the scene. A glass-topped table supported a jug, some ice cubes and several glasses, and beside this table a girl was sitting in a wheelchair, glancing carelessly through a magazine. As though aware of another presence, she turned and looked at Juliet, and Consuelo murmured something about getting the tea and left them.

The girl was dark, like her uncle, with long hair worn in a single braid over one shoulder. But her expression was remote and perhaps a little sulky, and Juliet advanced towards her with sòme trepidation.

‘Hello,’ she said, in a friendly fashion. ‘You must be Teresa. My name is – Rosemary.’ She almost slipped up altogether and said Juliet.

The girl viewed her critically, putting aside her magazine. ‘Who else would I be?’ she asked pointedly, glancing down at the wheelchair.

Juliet drew a little closer. ‘Yes, perhaps it was a stupid remark. However, I couldn’t think of any other way of introducing myself.’

Teresa’s eyes flickered for a moment, and then she resumed her sullen expression. ‘Where have you come from? London?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Estelle never gives up, does she?’ Teresa gave a short laugh.

Juliet deemed it better not to answer this. She had no desire to take sides without first knowing all the circumstances of the case. So she seated herself in a basketwork chair, also placed near the table, and sighed. ‘What a beautiful place this is. You must love it here.’

Teresa shrugged her thin shoulders, and Juliet noticed how painfully thin she really was. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. She spoke with little accent, and Juliet could only assume she had attended a British school. ‘It’s better than hospital, anyway.’

Juliet bit her lip. ‘Yes. Were you in hospital long?’

‘Long enough.’ Teresa was scrutinizing her intently. ‘What did you used to do, before you came here?’

Juliet felt the colour seeping into her cheeks. ‘Well, I – er – this and that!’

Teresa sniffed. ‘Why did you come here? Did you think it would make a nice holiday.’

‘No.’ Juliet was swift to deny this. ‘No. I came because there was an advertisement in a British newspaper and I thought the job sounded interesting.’ This at least was true.

Teresa wrinkled her nose. ‘I hear my uncle did not exactly welcome you with open arms.’

Juliet had to smile at this. ‘That’s true,’ she answered.

‘I expect he was good and mad,’ said Teresa, a little enthusiasm entering her voice now. ‘After the last time!’

Juliet did not ask the question that trembled on her tongue, but Teresa went on: ‘Estelle keeps trying to get me off her neck, you know! I think she’s jealous!’ This was said with some satisfaction.

Juliet frowned. ‘Jealous? Senhora Vinceiro? Why should she be jealous?’ This was one question she could not help but ask. She was only human after all.

Teresa fingered the pleat of the blue skirt she was wearing. ‘Estelle wants Felipe – it’s as simple as that! She wanted him ten years ago when she married his cousin because he lived on Venterra also, and my uncle was obviously not prepared to marry her then. And Pépé – her husband – died two years ago, he was years older than Estelle, of course, and she was granted her wish. To live on Venterra – and to have a second chance with my uncle.’

Juliet swallowed hard. This – from a sixteen-year-old!

‘I think you’re dramatizing the situation, Teresa,’ she said, glancing round with relief as the young maid appeared with the tray of tea.

‘I am not!’ Teresa sounded angry. ‘Estelle hated it when Felipe brought me here, installing me in his house, making her plans doubly difficult.’

‘Oh really,’ exclaimed Juliet disbelievingly. ‘You’re his niece!’

‘Only by marriage,’ retorted Teresa, at once. ‘My father was not Felipe’s brother. My mother had been married before. My father died ten years ago. He suffered from heart disease.’

‘I see.’ Juliet thanked the maid, and stood up. ‘Shall – shall I handle this?’

Teresa nodded with some dignity. ‘Of course now I am an orphan. And family ties are strong among Portuguese families. I am just as much Felipe’s responsibility whether my relationship to him is distant or otherwise.’

‘I see,’ said Juliet again. Heavens, she thought to herself, what a situation!

The tea was weak, but hot, and the wafer-thin biscuits rather delicious. Teresa drank one cup of tea, but ate nothing, and Juliet felt greedy because she ate three biscuits. Conversation lapsed, and Juliet wondered what was going through the girl’s head. She was obviously obsessed with intrigue, seeing herself as a kind of innocent charmer, who couldn’t help but annoy a woman like Estelle Vinceiro. She seemed to imagine – what? That the Duque was perhaps attracted to her – or merely just sympathetic towards her. Did she imagine Estelle Vinceiro’s jealousy, if indeed it was jealousy, was based on truth? It was incredible! Juliet knew little, and had seen less, of the Duque as yet, but she could swear he was a man in his late thirties, and not some impressionable boy. Oh, it was ridiculous!

Teresa replaced her cup in its saucer, and placing it on the table said: ‘Is my uncle going to allow you to stay?’

Juliet hesitated. ‘I – er – I’m not quite sure. Why shouldn’t he allow me to stay, after all? You do require companionship, don’t you?’

‘No.’ Teresa was vehement. ‘Felipe is all the companionship I need.’

‘But at some time, someone did think you needed companionship,’ exclaimed Juliet patiently. ‘Or the advertisement would never have been devised.’

‘Estelle did it – it’s all her doing!’ said Teresa hotly. ‘She wants to provide me with a companion, so that Felipe will have more time for her. Odio Estelle!’

‘Teresa!’ Juliet started at the sound of that voice. ‘Que faz voce?’

‘Oh, Tio Felipe,’ Teresa held out her hands to him, and lapsed into her own language, speaking appealingly, her dark eyes wide and innocent, so that Juliet began to wonder just what she was telling him.

The Duque had changed now into a cream silk lounge suit, that enhanced the swarthy cast of his complexion. The close-fitting trousers suited the muscular length of his legs, while Juliet was surprised to see that the jacket was quite modern in design with a long centre back vent. She supposed she had expected Venterra to be quite out of touch with civilization, but a man like Duque Felipe Ricardo de Castro was hardly likely to allow anyone but a Savile Row tailor to dress him. Trying to view him emotionlessly was difficult; his personality was such that she was intensely aware of him as a force to be reckoned with.

Teresa had paused now, and he straightened from the lounging position he had adopted near Teresa’s chair, and looked straight at Juliet.

‘So, senhorita,’ he murmured, taking out a case of cheroots and placing one between his firm lips, ‘you have perhaps discovered that not everything you read in the newspapers is true.’ His tone was cool, but mocking.

Juliet frowned, resisting the impulse to jump to her feet. ‘Do you mean the advertisement, senhor?’ she questioned, at last.

The Duque inclined his head, lighting his cheroot from a slim gold lighter. ‘Of course. You have been – how shall I put it? – misled! I regret the circumstance, of course, but …’ He shrugged his broad shoulders.

Juliet digested this, and then deemed she would feel at less of a disadvantage if she did stand up. Getting to her feet, she said, rather unsteadily: ‘You – you regret the circumstance, senhor! Are you trying to tell me my services are not required?’

‘How perceptive of you, Senhorita Summers,’ he murmured lazily. ‘That is exactly what I mean.’

Juliet took a deep breath. So much for Estelle Vinceiro’s influence, she thought gloomily.

‘Might – might I ask why?’ she said, rather tremulously.

The Duque frowned now. He was obviously not used to having anyone question his commands. He glanced down at Teresa thoughtfully, and then said:

‘I think, senhorita, we might discuss this in my study. I realize you feel annoyed and inconvenienced, but I trust I can compensate you financially for any inconvenience caused. Come!’ His tone was peremptory now, and Juliet obeyed, even while she felt furious that he should imagine he could buy her off.

He led the way through the marble-floored hall, along a corridor whose windows faced a rose garden, into a room furnished austerely in dark wood and leather, and whose walls were lined with leather-tooled books. He walked round to the far side of the desk which commanded a central position after he had closed the door and indicated that Juliet should sit in the chair opposite. She did so with some trepidation, which increased when he himself did not sit down but stood regarding her with dark, sombre eyes. If he found anything attractive in Juliet’s smooth, lightly tanned features, in the widely spaced depths of her eyes, or in the sun-kissed lustre of her hair, he did not show it, and merely seemed to be absorbed with some inner thoughts.

‘Now,’ he said, at last, when the tension Juliet was • feeling had become almost a tangible thing, ‘it is too late today for you to consider making the journey back to Barbados, and from there home to England. However, tomorrow I will have the hydroplane ready and waiting for you at ten o’clock.’

Something inside Juliet snapped at his words. She had been accustomed all her life to fighting for anything she wanted, and she saw no reason to stop now. This chance would never come her way again. Once her father discovered what she had done he would never trust her completely again. She would never be sure, wherever she went, that he had not got someone tailing her, monitoring her every movement. It was already too late to get back without his finding out what she had done. Rosemary had a letter to post two days after her departure which explained a little of her actions, without actually giving her whereabouts away. It would put both Mandy and her father’s minds at rest, and prevent Robert Lindsay from calling the police.

But this man, this arrogant Duque, was attempting, with casual apologies, to ruin everything she had struggled to achieve, as well as turning a blind eye to the situation that was developing under his very nose. Couldn’t he see what was happening to Teresa? Didn’t he feel the emotion she was harbouring for him? Or did he indeed know what was going on, and found it satisfying to his ego?

Juliet wasn’t sure, all she was sure of was that in this, at least, Estelle Vinceiro was right. She linked her fingers, bent her head, and exploded her bombshell.

‘Are you aware that your niece is in love with you?’

The Duque had been waiting for her reply, flicking through the correspondence on his desk idly, but at her words, his head jerked up, and he stared at her with incensed dark eyes. Juliet shivered, and returned her own gaze to her fingers, wondering however she had dared suggest such a thing.

‘Senhorita, your remarks may be a product of your indignation at your dismissal, but they are in extremely bad taste!’

Juliet bit her lip hard. What the hell, he was firing her anyway, what had she got to lose?

‘Bad taste or not, they’re true,’ she retorted, allowing her eyes to meet his momentarily. ‘Why do you suppose she objects to a companion? Because it limits the time you might spend with her!’

‘Enough! Deus! No one has ever spoken to me like this! How do you know these things? You have been here less than twelve hours! Have you, in that time, assimilated our positions so perfectly?’

The Duque walked round the desk restlessly, making Juliet acutely aware of him as a man, with a man’s powers, and she was treading on dangerous ground, even if she was leaving in the morning. Here, the Duque Felipe Ricardo de Castro was all powerful. Who would help her, if he chose to punish her for her outspokenness? She shivered, and wished she had a cigarette.

He returned to his position behind the desk at last, relieving a little of her tension, and again studied her intently.

‘Senhorita, I have considered what you have said, and I find I simply cannot believe you. Por Deus, Teresa is but sixteen years of age; I am nearing my fortieth birthday. Such a liaison can never have occurred to a child like that. I have never, at any time, given her any reason—’ He halted, and stiffened. ‘Wait! I will not explain myself to you. You will leave tomorrow, as I have said.’

Juliet sighed, and rose to her feet. ‘Very well, senhor,’ she said, not without some annoyance. ‘Maybe the next – companion – you employ will not be treated so carelessly.’

‘There will be no more companions,’ replied the Duque coldly.

‘There may have to be,’ retorted Juliet, her cheeks flushed. ‘In another year, regardless of her disablement, Teresa will be ready for marriage, and you may find your position less tenable!’ She marched to the door, but despite his greater weight he was there before her, leaning against the door, preventing her escape.

‘Wait!’ he muttered sombrely. ‘Wait! Maybe I have been too hasty. Maybe you are right. Maybe Teresa does need a companion after all. You are not the first person to tell me so. Does not my own cousin-in-law advocate your arguments also?’ He straightened, looking down at her with enigmatic eyes. ‘Very well, senhorita, you may stay. At least for a month. We will discover at the end of that time whether your presence has created any special improvement. Sim?’

Juliet’s legs felt weak. She didn’t know whether it was the relief at knowing she was staying, or the Duque’s proximity, but she suddenly seemed breathless and completely enervated.

‘Ver – very well, senhor,’ she murmured, and then, as though common sense asserted itself, she said: ‘What – what are you going to tell Teresa?’ She moved slightly away from him, pressing her hands together, as a demon of disobedience urged her to continue: ‘This is always supposing I agree.’

The Duque caught his breath in an angry gasp. ‘Are you even daring to suggest you might not stay?’ he ground out.

Juliet shrugged, maintaining her calm attitude with the utmost difficulty. ‘Well, after all, you seem to imagine you can dismiss me and then re-employ me without even considering my feelings. ‘Oh, I agree, I did suggest that Teresa did require a companion, and I was angry that you should think you could return me to London like some unwanted parcel, senhor, but even I have feelings, and as a woman I deserve a little more consideration!’

‘O que hei-de eu fazer? You are the most exasperating creature I have ever met!’ he muttered angrily. ‘As for you being a woman, you are little more than a child yourself!’

‘I am twenty-one, senhor, and no more a child than your — your cousin’s widow, Senhora Vinceiro!’ Juliet disliked his assumption intensely.

The Duque pressed out his cheroot violently in a copper ashtray, and then stared at her coldly. ‘So, senhorita! May I have your decision? Or do you require time to think about it? I warn you, I may yet change my own opinion!’

Juliet felt her cheeks burning. ‘I’ll stay—’ then, as he would have spoken, she went on, ‘providing you tell me a little more about Teresa, and her condition, and the reasons for your antipathy towards a companion for her!’

She was amazed at her own temerity, and so apparently was the Duque. He lit another cheroot, and then crossed to a tray of drinks on a nearby table. He poured himself a large whisky, but drank it at one gulp before turning to Juliet and asking her whether she would care for a drink herself. Juliet shook her head, and he raised his eyebrows mockingly.

‘Surely English women are completely emancipated, are they not?’

‘I’ve just drank two cups of tea, senhor,’ replied Juliet coolly, marvelling at her own composure.

‘Touché!’ He half-smiled, revealing even white teeth, and Juliet felt a strange sensation disturb the pit of her stomach. It was not an unpleasant sensation, and yet it frightened her a little, and she was glad when he seated himself behind the desk, and resumed his lazy scrutiny of the papers on his desk.

Juliet hovered uncertainly by the door, and he nodded to the chair opposite him. ‘Do sit down, senhorita, or I shall have to stand myself, and this may take a few minutes.’

Juliet subsided into the chair again, and linked her hands in her lap, the demure attitude belying the strength of her convictions.

‘So, senhorita,’ he began, ‘I will tell you about Teresa. As you know she is sixteen years of age, and reasonably intelligent. Prior to the accident she attended an academy in Lisbon, my brother lived near there, you understand, but on her parents’ death, and her own subsequent disability, she was brought here — by me.’ He drew on his cheroot. ‘Teresa was not my brother’s child, but the child of his wife, and her first husband.’

‘Yes, Teresa told me,’ replied Juliet, and he frowned.

‘I see. She must have been singularly confiding this afternoon. Still – as I have said, after the accident, I brought her here. There was no one else. Her mother’s family – parents, at least, were dead, she had no brothers or sisters. The child was quite alone. Naturally, as she had taken my brother’s name, she was as much his child as any blood relation could be.’

‘I see.’

‘The accident – it was tragic. The usual motorway pile-up, with Teresa trapped in the wreckage for hours. Hours when she was conscious, and suffered much mental torture.’ He sighed. ‘The hospital could find little wrong with her; there is no injury to her legs, no spinal damage, she simply refuses to walk! It is as simple – or maybe, as difficult – as that!’ He leant forward. ‘And that is why I do not wish her to become emotionally disturbed, in any direction! She already is disturbed, and only time, and affection, and patience can cure her. She has a nurse, Miss Madison is a very capable woman. But she is old, in her fifties, and consequently can provide little companionship to a girl of Teresa’s age.’

Juliet sighed. ‘Then why create so much difficulty about employing a companion for her?’ she exclaimed.

The Duque frowned. ‘You are a very curious young woman, Miss Summers. I do not know that I care for your attitude!’

Juliet’s colour deepened. ‘Why? Don’t you like plain speaking?’

‘Plain speaking? What is this? The right to be impertinent if one so desires?’

‘No. It’s just being truthful, and calling black black.’

‘Hmm! Well, I will reserve judgment, senhorita.’

‘And are you going to tell me why you refused to employ me?’ Juliet determined to have it all out with him.

He shrugged. ‘Estelle did it all, senhorita. As she did before. Only then the girl was an American, Laura Weston. It was a disaster. Teresa disliked her, and there were continual bouts of disharmony in the household. In addition – oh, well, that at least is of no interest to you. So, senhorita, what do you think now?’

Juliet sighed. ‘Of course I should like the job,’ she admitted. ‘Teresa presents a challenge. I never could resist a challenge.’

He smiled, this time without mockery. ‘You have courage, pequena.’

Juliet wished he had said nothing. There was that awful sensation in her stomach again. She got hastily to her feet.

‘Do you want me to tell Teresa?’ she asked.