Читать книгу The Society Bride - Fiona Hood-Stewart, Fiona Hood-Stewart - Страница 6

HE’D been summoned, Ramon Villalba realised. He frowned as he sat astride his fine Passo Fino and stared across the wide, green open spaces where several thousand heads of cattle—all belonging to him—grazed, oblivious of the fact that their owner was once again about to board his company jet in Buenos Aires and head for London.

It was rare these days that his father summoned him. After all, Ramon was thirty-two, and had cut his eye-teeth a long while ago. So the matter must be extremely important and the summons immediately met.

He experienced a moment’s concern. Could it be the health of one of his parents’ that was the issue here? Surely not. His mother, with whom he had an exceptionally close relationship, would have confided in him. Still, he wasted no time in galloping back to the gracious hacienda, its ancient terracotta walls bathed in late-afternoon sunlight, and having Juanito, his manservant, pack his bags in readiness for the journey.

Twenty-four hours later he was sitting in the book-lined study of his family’s home in Eaton Square, trying to absorb the impact of what his father had just said.

‘But that’s utterly preposterous!’ Ramon exclaimed, dragging his fingers through his thick black hair and shaking his head. ‘As I recollect, Nena Carvajal is not twenty yet—a mere girl. How can you and old Don Rodrigo even contemplate marriage for her?’

‘Really, Ramon. Stop being prissy. You sound as if you’ve never heard of a marriage of convenience.’

‘Well, certainly not one like this,’ Ramon countered with feeling, letting his long legs stretch before him and crossing his ankles. His bronzed brow creased. ‘I don’t know what’s got into your heads. If Nena thinks of me as anything at all it’s probably in the light of an—’

‘Rubbish.’ His father, a well-dressed man in his late seventies, cut him short briskly. ‘I doubt if she remembers you at all—which may be for the best.’

‘Wonderful.’

‘There is a very strong reason for this arrangement.’

‘Oh? And what might that be?’ Ramon raised a haughty brow.

‘Simply put, Don Rodrigo, her grandfather, is dying.’

Ramon frowned and sat up straighter. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘The big C, I’m afraid. He has six months at the most. Now, can you imagine what might happen to that girl if she’s let loose on the world with the kind of money she will inherit? Not to mention the running of Rodrigo’s empire,’ he added, with a quick, sharp look at his son.

‘So that’s what this is all about,’ Ramon said slowly. ‘Rodrigo thinks I might be a suitable candidate to take over, does he?’

‘I would say that is a great compliment, considering the vastness and complexity of his empire.’

‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,’ Ramon conceded irritably. ‘There’s only one problem.’

‘Oh?’ Don Pedro raised an eyebrow and waited.

‘I have no desire to be married.’

A moment’s silence followed before the older man answered. ‘Ramon, this marriage to Nena—’

‘Who could practically be my daughter,’ Ramon dismissed disparagingly.

‘Hardly. Unless you plan to enter the Guinness Book of Records as a very young father,’ his parent murmured with a touch of wry humour. ‘Now, this marriage—as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me—will hardly curtail your er—lifestyle. I’m sure that Nena has been brought up to expect a marriage of this kind. I haven’t, I admit, seen her for several years. She has been at boarding school—the Convent of the Sacré Coeur,’ he continued with a small satisfied smile. ‘That in itself is a good omen.’

‘Father, this whole notion is totally absurd!’ Ramon exploded. He jumped up from the chair, his lean, athletic figure clad in an exquisitely cut Italian navy silk suit, and began pacing the study. ‘You’d think it was the Middle Ages. I cannot agree to such a plan.’

‘At least give it some thought—think about it,’ Don Pedro said reasonably. ‘It would, of course, be an incredible opportunity for you. Businesswise, I mean.’

Ramon’s eyes flashed and he drew himself up taller. ‘If you think, Father, that I would get myself tangled up in a marriage of convenience out of a desire to improve my already not so shabby business ventures, then let me relieve you of the notion immediately,’ he replied witheringly.

‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Don Pedro responded carefully, measuring his son’s reaction. ‘Think of your mother and I. We barely knew one another before our marriage. And look how wonderfully it has turned out. The truth is I have never looked at another woman since, and I can assure you I was quite a lad in my day.’ He let out a long, low laugh. ‘And as for age—why, your mother’s twenty years my junior. You are barely thirteen years older than Nena. I cannot take that as a consideration. And besides, at thirty-two it is time you thought of setting up your nursery.’

‘Whatever, Father,’ Ramon growled, suddenly needing to be alone, to think, to straighten this mess out.

‘May I tell my old friend Don Rodrigo that you will at least think about the proposal? To turn it down out of hand would be nothing short of an insult.’

This last was true. The honour of being selected by one of the richest men in the world to be his future grandson-in-law, heir to all his responsibilities, was no light matter. Handled wrongly, this could affect a lifelong friendship.

Reluctantly Ramon nodded. ‘Very well, Father. But on one condition,’ he declared, his chin jutting firmly, ‘that I get to see Nena. I presume she has been made aware of the circumstances?’

‘Uh, not that I’m aware of,’ Don Pedro murmured, carefully shuffling a pile of papers on his desk. ‘All in good time.’

‘Great,’ Ramon replied cynically, rolling his eyes. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he avoided delivering the rest of the sentence about to escape his lips.

‘The Villalbas?’ Nena’s well-shaped brows creased and she tilted her lovely, lightly tanned face to one side, her flashing green eyes fixed on her grandfather. ‘I don’t seem to remember them. Did we know them back in Argentina?’

‘Of course, my love. But it has been quite a while since they last visited. Certainly not since you went off to school. Pedro Villalba is an old and trusted friend of mine, and his wife Augusta is in some way related to your late grandmother’s family.’

‘Ah.’ Nena nodded and smiled. Everyone was always somehow related to the family.

‘They are coming to tea tomorrow with their son, Ramon, whom you may remember. He came over once or twice when he was at Eton and then Oxford.’

‘Sorry, I haven’t a clue who he is.’ She shook her tawny gold-flecked hair, highlighted by two weeks of playing tennis every day in the South of France, and jumped up. ‘I’m off to the tournament now. Do you need anything before I go? Water for your pills?’ she asked, suddenly concerned.

Her grandfather seemed to have aged much during the past weeks, and she worried about him. Not for nothing had she inherited her deceased French mother’s perception and innate capability for running Thurston Manor, their lovely country house near Windsor, and for making sure that her beloved grandfather was cosseted.

‘No, no, my child. Off you run. Just make sure to be back on time for tea tomorrow.’

‘I’ll try. But we have the semi-finals, and if I get through today I may be playing.’

Don Rodrigo smiled at her benignly. He loved her so dearly, and wished—oh, how he wished—that he could live to see her bloom into the flower he perceived emerging, watch as she travelled towards womanhood. But that was not to be, he reminded himself with an inner sigh, accepting the soft kiss on his withered old cheek. And he must make sure she was safely provided for. Not just financially—there she was only too well provided for. If anything that was half the worry. In fact what truly concerned him were the fortune-hunters that he knew would hover like anxious vultures from here to Tierra del Fuego the minute he was dead and buried.

It was four by the time the Bentley drew up on the gravel drive before the splendid country house. Ramon experienced another wave of distaste. The whole thing was utterly absurd, and left him feeling as though he were participating in a very bad B movie. Still, he’d listened to his mother’s urgings and his father’s request to at least honour the visit. And he would, he supposed, alighting from the vehicle. At least after this he might be able to bring his father and Don Rodrigo to reason.

Several minutes later they were being conducted by the dignified white-haired butler onto the lawn, where Don Rodrigo heaved himself with some difficulty out of a wicker chair.

‘Amigos,’ he said, embracing Pedro and kissing Augusta. ‘What a pleasure it is to receive you in my home.’ Then he turned towards Ramon and eyed him closely. ‘How do you do, Ramon? It is several years since we last met, but I’ve followed your may I say rather brilliant progress?’ He quirked a brow and smiled. ‘Knowing your father, I am not surprised. But impressed. Very impressed.’

‘Coming from you, that is a compliment indeed,’ Ramon murmured, shaking the other man’s hand. He sensed the slight shaking and frailty in the fingers and realised that the sharp grey eyes belied failing health. He also realised that Don Pedro would not easily be fobbed off. As he sat down next to his mother at the table, already laid for afternoon tea, he wondered just how hard it was going to be to get out of this marriage. There was no sign of Nena, he observed a sudden spark of hope flashing. Perhaps she’d been told and had refused to agree to the arrangement. She was, after all, nearly twenty.

If so, all the better.

He was quite willing to help her out, advise her financially—even be a trustee, if Don Rodrigo so wished.

The thought began to take shape. Perhaps that was the way to work the situation, he mused, his quick brain already solving the matter. If Nena didn’t agree to the marriage then he could bow out gracefully and not be blamed, and it would all work out for the best. It was, he reflected, allowing wishful thinking to take the upper hand, a mere question of initiating the correct strategy.

‘Have they arrived?’ Nena asked breathlessly as she jumped out of her new Audi TT. After throwing her tennis racket onto one of the hall chairs, she glanced at herself in the gilt mirror. ‘I look a mess. But I suppose I’d better dash out and say hello, or Grandfather will kill me,’ she exclaimed to Worthing, the butler, who was eyeing her severely as he closed the door.

‘Don Rodrigo and the guests are on the lawn, Miss Nena.’ He still called her by her childhood name.

‘Good. Well, do see that tea is served, won’t you? Oh, and Worthing? Please ask Cook to serve both China and Ceylon. I don’t know which the guests would prefer.’

‘Of course, Miss Nena,’ he replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head fondly as she flew across the hall, through the drawing room, and down the steps to the lawn, where the group was seated under the chestnut tree facing the lake.

Smoothing her hair back, she hurried across the grass. How nice for her grandfather to have some people to entertain. He saw so few nowadays. She was sure it wasn’t good for him to lead such a solitary existence, she reflected as she drew up on them from behind, but perhaps a lot of social activity might tire him.

‘Hello, I’m so sorry I’m late.’

Ramon turned.

‘Aunt Augusta, Uncle Rodrigo, it’s been ages,’ she said, kissing Ramon’s parents while he looked in frank admiration at the gorgeous, lithe young woman—at her never-ending long bronzed legs that eradicated for ever the fuzzy image he’d formed of a rather dowdy, plump adolescent. Her smile, he reflected, was dazzling, her teeth white and perfect, and her lightly tanned skin set off the beauty of her huge almond-shaped green eyes in a manner fit to leave even a seasoned womaniser like himself dazed.

And her hair…

It fell in feathery wisps from a ponytail, giving her the air of having tumbled straight out of bed, and leaving him in dire danger of an embarrassing physical reaction.

Pulling himself together, Ramon rose and shook hands, hoping none of these untoward emotions showed, and reminded himself of the true nature of their visit here.

‘Will you excuse me if I pop upstairs and change?’ she was saying to his mother in a charmingly assured manner that belied her youth. ‘I look a dreadful fright.’

He watched as she retreated swiftly across the lawn, trying to suppress the delightful image of that long, curved, slim body uncoiling amongst bedsheets, finding himself distressingly prey to a sensual twisting tug. He must not, he realised, removing his eyes from her, lose track of reality here. He caught his father’s approving eye and quickly concentrated once more on the conversation.

But if his father thought that Nena’s astonishing beauty and charm might make the marriage any more acceptable he was wrong. Instead it somehow made it worse. It was one thing to do a poor dowdy creature a favour, another to place under his protection a paragon whom, when she found her feet, would be the toast of society in every city they visited. The thought was strangely disturbing and he banished it.

‘Ramon, I hope you have thought about your father’s and my proposition,’ Don Rodrigo said, easing himself with obvious difficulty in the wicker chair, reminding Ramon of just how much was at stake here. ‘After one look at my lovely granddaughter I’m sure you are aware how impossible it would be for me to allow her to go out alone and unchaperoned into the world.’

‘Well, I don’t altogether agree, no,’ Ramon countered. ‘After all, sir, we are in the twenty-first century. A well-selected board of trustees could easily take care of her affairs. She seems a confident young woman, quite able to look after herself,’ he added.

‘Ha!’ Don Rodrigo let out a harsh exclamation. ‘Much you know about it. Oh, she’s got confidence and charm and excellent manners, of course. But she would be swept off her feet by the first fortune-hunter that walked into her life. And, believe me, they’re already lining up,’ he said darkly.

‘That I can believe,’ Pedro Villalba replied, sending his son a meaningful look from under his thick silver brows.

‘And it’s not only my little Nena I’m concerned about,’ Don Pedro continued, meeting Ramon’s eyes with a look as steady as his own. ‘It’s the future of all I’ve built up over a lifetime. I have no intention for that to go to rack and ruin, frittered away by some spendthrift. Trustees, as you mentioned earlier, are all fine and dandy, but they will not direct her sentimental life, look after her as a woman needs looking after.’

‘Excuse me for being so bold,’ Ramon said, leaning forward, ‘but does Nena have any idea of what’s going on here?’

‘Up until now I deemed it preferable to stay silent. After all, I do not want her to be unduly upset. And when she learns of my illness,’ he said stifling a sigh, ‘she will be most upset.’

‘Of course.’ Ramon looked down. ‘Don Rodrigo, although I would be more than willing to accept a role in an advisory capacity, I don’t feel that—’

‘One moment, young man. I am aware that all this has been thrust upon you in a most impromptu manner. But will you not at least take the opportunity, now that you have come all this way, of getting to know my granddaughter a little better? I am not suggesting that the two of you fall in love, or anything of that nature, merely that together you establish a well-balanced relationship. Nena has been brought up in the strictest possible manner. She would make you a good wife.

‘Many marriages work out very well under these conditions,’ he added with a thin, tired smile. ‘I know that in this day and age you young people all believe in Hollywood-style relationships—marriage one day, divorce the next. But real life, my boy, is very different. Look rather at your parents, and at myself. Our marriages were planned, and they worked out brilliantly.’

‘That’s all very well,’ Ramon countered, but then, seeing the butler carrying a large silver tray piled with scones and sandwiches, he closed his mouth.

Nena rushed into the large marble bathroom of her suite of rooms and took a rapid shower, her mind filled with the incredibly good-looking son of her grandfather’s friends. She had been quite taken aback, but hoped that her surprise had not been in any way evident.

He was older, of course, and rather forbidding and arrogant-looking, with his thick black hair, straight Roman nose, high slashed cheekbones and chestnut golden-flecked eyes. A bit like an actor, she reflected, rubbing herself with a thick terry towel before stepping into the dressing room and choosing a short pink linen Gucci dress.

Minutes later she tripped down the stairs and joined the others. She sat in the only available chair, next to Ramon, determined not to let his intense masculine aura distract her as she proceeded to serve the tea. The next few minutes were occupied with handing round sandwiches, and it was only when she sat back down that she realised Ramon was looking at her rather fiercely.

She shifted uncomfortably and suppressed a desire to pull her skirt lower. A delicious shiver coursed through her. She’d heard of men looking at you and leaving you feeling undressed. Now she knew what it meant. For a moment she wondered if she was dreaming. Perhaps she’d spilled something on her dress and that was why he was looking her over in that confident manner.

She glanced down, but there was nothing, and she felt cross with herself for allowing this man to leave her feeling both self-conscious and—something else that she couldn’t quite define. Shifting closer to his mother, she half turned her back on him and chit-chatted about this and that for a while, trying not to be aware of his eyes upon her.

‘You must come and see the garden properly,’ she said to Augusta. ‘I’ve had some new flowerbeds laid out near the lake, and the little wood over there is charming to walk in.’

‘Thank you, my love,’ Augusta replied with a gracious smile. ‘But I’m afraid I find walking a bit of a strain these days, particularly in the heat. But Ramon, I’m sure, would be delighted to see the garden.’

‘Oh, no. I don’t think you’d like it at all,’ Nena said hastily, turning towards him, embarrassed and biting her lip while hoping she hadn’t sounded too rude. She could hardly refuse to take him, but the last place she wanted to go was for a walk in his austere, rather autocratic company.

‘Yes, Nena, that’s a good idea,’ her grandfather insisted. ‘You take Ramon for a walk while we old folks chat.’ Don Rodrigo smiled approvingly.

Unwilling to distress her grandfather by refusing, Nena turned and glanced at Ramon. ‘If you like we can go,’ she said, her tone unenthusiastic, hoping he’d refuse.

‘Fine. Let’s go.’

Reluctantly she rose and began walking down towards the lake with Ramon close by her side. He was tall, she observed, at least six foot two or more, and his shoulders were broad. There was something powerful and engulfing in his presence, she realised, an authority about him that reminded her in a way of her grandfather. Now, as they walked, he slipped off his jacket and threw it casually over his shoulder while Nena wondered what on earth to say to him.

Soon they’d reached the lakeside, and Ramon still hadn’t made any effort at conversation—although Nena could feel his eyes boring into her. It was really most uncomfortable, especially since he was so close to her. She was catching whiffs of his musky after-shave—and something else indefinable, something she’d never experienced next to any man before.

‘Those are peonies and delphiniums,’ she blabbered, pointing out the flowers, ‘and over there are a number of dahlias. But I’m sure you’re not really interested in flowers,’ she added quickly, pressing her hands together and wondering why she felt so wound up and nervous when usually she was perfectly at ease with visitors.

‘You’re right,’ he replied, his face breaking into a sudden charming smile that lit up his face as he looked down at her. ‘I’m no expert on flowers. But my parents and your grandfather seemed pretty determined that we should come for a walk together, don’t you think?’ he asked, testing the terrain.

‘Yes.’ She frowned, looking up at him, puzzled. ‘They did, didn’t they? Do you have any idea why?’

Ramon wished he’d kept his mouth shut. For now he felt like a cad, as though he was deceiving this young woman by not telling her the truth. Yet how could he come clean when she had not the slightest idea that her grandfather was dying?

‘I suppose they thought that we are nearer in age and might find more to talk about on our own,’ he said with a non-committal shrug. He found it hard to resist her enquiring gaze, that lovely frank innocence in her eyes and in her charming smile, and the underlying trace of sensuality that he’d be willing to bet she still hadn’t recognised in herself. The thought left him in dire danger of another embarrassing physical reaction and he turned quickly towards the lake. ‘Look, why don’t we keep them happy and you show me this famous wood?’ he said, pointing to his left with forced interest.

‘Okay,’ she agreed, glad that the atmosphere had lightened up. Perhaps he was just someone you needed to get to know better.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said, taking her arm lightly as they reached a small bridge that crossed the lake to a path that led to the wood.

Another curious new sensation coursed through Nena at his touch on her flesh, and she was hard put to it not to shudder.

‘There’s not much to tell,’ she said, allowing him to guide her across, although she knew the bridge by heart. ‘I finished school last year. I wanted to go to university—was accepted by a couple, in fact,’ she added hastily. For some reason she didn’t want him to assume she was stupid. ‘But then Grandfather seemed increasingly unwell and I didn’t feel I could abandon him.’ She stopped and shrugged, then smiled up at him through long thick lashes. ‘He doesn’t seem any better lately, and I don’t want to make him unhappy.’

‘But of course you must go to university,’ Ramon replied. Part of him was shocked that her future might be compromised. The other part, the part that didn’t want to recognise just how attractive he found her, thought how appealing it was that in this day and age, when most women he came across thought only of their own wellbeing and personal ambition, she should place her grandfather first. Which, in turn, reminded him of all the pain she was going to experience when she learned of his terminal illness.

‘Maybe one day I’ll be able to go to college,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘I’d really like to. But please,’ she said, her brows creasing suddenly, ‘promise you won’t tell Grandfather? I would hate for him to be upset or worried.’

‘Of course I won’t say anything. Anyway, it’s none of my business. Still, it seems odd that he won’t—’ Suddenly Ramon remembered. Of course Don Rodrigo didn’t want her out there, in the midst of people over whom he had no control. ‘Where were you accepted?’ he asked.

‘Oxford and the Sorbonne.’

He looked at her, brows raised. ‘That’s pretty good.’

‘You seem surprised,’ she countered, challenging him. ‘I suppose it’s because I’m a woman?’

‘Guilty,’ he said, a new and delicious twinkle brightening his eyes. ‘I’m afraid I’m not used to coming across women who are as lovely as you and yet who are obviously also highly gifted and intelligent.’

Nena’s cheeks flushed and she looked quickly away. ‘Oh, I’m not really that bright. I just like studying, that’s all. There’s the wood,’ she mumbled hastily.

‘What about your boyfriend?’ he probed. ‘Does he want you to go to university?’

‘Boyfriend?’ Nena frowned again, then laughed, a natural spontaneous gurgle that left Ramon swallowing. ‘Oh, I see. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Well, I have friends, of course, like Jimmy Chandler and David Onslow at the tennis club, but that’s different.’

‘And have none of them ever tried to kiss you?’ he asked in an amused, bantering tone, unable to resist the temptation of finding out more about this alluring creature to whom he was becoming increasingly drawn, despite the strange situation they were in.

‘Oh, Lord, no—they’re just pals.’ Nena gave an embarrassed shrug and their eyes met as they reached the edge of the wood. ‘This is the wood. Do you want to see it?’

‘Honestly?’ His eyes flashed wickedly.

‘Honestly,’ she responded, lips twitching.

‘Honestly, I have no interest whatsoever in seeing your wood—though if it is half as charming as its owner I suppose I should.’

‘Oh, shut up.’ She giggled, feeling now as though she’d known him a while. ‘That’s totally silly.’

‘Why don’t we sit over there by the lake for a few minutes and relax?’

‘All right.’

They walked back across the bridge and down to the water’s edge. ‘Here, let me lay this on the grass; it may be damp,’ he said, spreading out his jacket for her, trying to sort out the conflict raging in his mind.

‘Thanks.’ She sat on part of the jacket, leaving room for him, and he lowered himself next to her.

‘Tell me, what’s it like living with your grandfather?’ he asked suddenly, throwing a pebble spinning into the still waters of the lake.

‘I love him dearly. I mean, of course at times it’s a bit restrictive, but I need to look after him. That’s why I didn’t tell him I’d been accepted at Oxford, or he might have changed his mind and felt obliged to let me go. Then there would have been no one to look after him.’

‘But surely the staff would take care of him?’

‘Yes, but that’s not the same at all,’ she dismissed, raising her lovely determined chin. ‘Lately he seems to be so frail. I can’t quite explain it, but…’ She hesitated and pressed her fingers together, a sudden frown creasing her brow. ‘I’m just being silly, I suppose, but it worries me.’ She looked up and their eyes met. ‘Your parents seem so nice,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Do you live with them or on your own?’

‘Oh, on my own. I have several houses—my hacienda, a loft in Puert Madero in Buenos Aires. In London I stay at my parents’ place in Eaton Square, though. Quite a change,’ he added, aware that he could hardly tell her that he shared his life with Luisa, his official mistress, and on occasion a smattering of models, who drifted in and out. Luisa was not officially in-house, of course, but it was an ongoing relationship. And although she knew he had no intention of marrying her—she was twice divorced—they had a very pleasant time together.

Which brought him back to the matter at hand. What would happen to Luisa if, by some twist of fate, he decided to accept Don Rodrigo’s proposition?

Ramon glanced down at Nena once more. She was lovely, and unaware of it. Just as she was unaware of what awaited her just around the corner. Her grandfather’s death would shake her for ever from the safe cocoon she’d lived in all her life. It would be harsh and painful, he realised sadly. For as an only grandchild she was probably even more protected from the world than if her parents had been alive. Also she’d have no one—except some friends and her financial advisors—to turn to. Perhaps, he reflected sombrely, Don Rodrigo was not so wrong to want to protect her from all that might be waiting for her out there. All at once Ramon shared the old man’s fears for her.

‘Maybe we should be getting back,’ he said abruptly, glancing at the thin gold watch on his tanned wrist. ‘My parents will be wanting to leave soon.’

‘All right.’ She jumped up and he picked up the jacket, throwing it over his shoulder again as they made their way back to the group on the lawn.

It was odd, he reflected, that a plan which only an hour ago had struck him as absolutely preposterous now seemed considerably less so. Plus, as both Don Rodrigo and his father had pointed out, it was a marriage, not an affair. He was thirty-two, and would have to think of marriage and a family shortly anyway. Wouldn’t it be infinitely preferable to be married to a lovely creature like Nena, whom he could mould to his liking, teach the art of love, yet continue enjoying the Luisas of this world on the side? he reflected somewhat ruthlessly. All in all, having a beautiful, well-mannered society wife, whom he could take pleasure with in bed from time to time without changing his routine, might not be such a bad thing after all.

‘My love, I have something I need to speak to you about,’ Don Rodrigo said to his granddaughter the next evening over dinner.

‘Yes, Grandfather?’ Nena looked at him closely. He seemed very tired. In the past few days he had barely left his room, except to sit on the lawn yesterday afternoon with the Villalbas. ‘Is something wrong?’ she enquired anxiously.

‘After dinner we shall retire to the study and have a chat,’ he said, knowing the moment had finally arrived when he must tell her the truth.

Since the acceptance that morning of the proposition of marriage by Ramon Villalba he had known it was essential she learn about his illness and what the future held, however painful.

Don Rodrigo sampled a tiny spoonful of chocolate mousse. It turned bitter on his tongue. He had faced many hard moments in his life, but telling this child whom he loved so dearly that the end was near would rank among the cruellest blows life had dealt him. His only solace was that Ramon Villalba had, for whatever reason, accepted his proposition.

Half an hour later, seated as always on the tapes-tried footstool at his feet, Nena listened in anguished horror to her grandfather’s words.

‘But that’s impossible,’ she cried, grabbing his hands and squeezing them tight. ‘It can’t be true, Grandfather, there must be a mistake. You must have other tests—other opinions. It simply can’t be right,’ she ended, sobbing.

‘I’m afraid I’ve already done all that,’ he responded sadly, stroking the mane of tawny hair fanned out on his lap and soothing her tears. ‘That is why I have had to make provision for you.’

‘Pro-provision?’ she gulped, raising her head, still trying to absorb the horrible news he’d imparted.

‘Yes, my love. You must be taken care of, provided for.’

‘Please, Grandfather, don’t talk about it,’ she sobbed.

‘I’m afraid I must. Time is short and measures must be taken.’

‘Wh-what measures?’ she gulped sadly, trying to regain some control as the truth sank in.

Don Rodrigo hesitated, then, with a sigh, forged ahead. ‘Yesterday you met Ramon Villalba.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, taking his handkerchief and blowing her nose hard.

‘And you found him—pleasant?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. He was polite. Look, Grandfather, what has that got to do with you being ill?’ she burst out, leaning back on her heels, eyes pleading.

‘Ramon Villalba has proposed marriage.’

‘Marriage?’ Nena let out a horrified gasp and stood up, clutching the damp handkerchief between her nervous fingers. ‘But that is absurd, Grandfather. How can I get married to a man I don’t know, whom I don’t love? I don’t want to get married. I—’

‘Shush, child, do not get so agitated. Come here.’ He held out his hand and she sank once more to the footstool. ‘I have talked to the Villalbas. We all agree that this marriage is a good thing.’

‘How—how can you say that, Grandfather? It’s archaic. Nobody is forced to marry any longer; it’s unheard of. Oh, please, Grandfather, this can’t be real. There must be a mistake. I’m sure if you went to another doctor—’

‘Now, now. I want you to listen, Nena. Carefully. I am absolutely decided on this marriage. And I want the wedding to take place as soon as possible.’

‘You mean he came here to inspect me, as he might a horse or a piece of cattle?’ she cried. ‘Why would he propose an arrangement like this?’

‘I can think of several reasons—all of them perfectly valid,’ Don Rodrigo answered firmly. ‘He needs a wife from a good family and of excellent upbringing who is unsoiled. Also he is adequately prepared to take care of our business ventures.’

‘So that’s it,’ she whispered bitterly. ‘A business arrangement. Oh, Grandfather, how can you auction me off like this? It’s all too horrible.’ She turned, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed. Her pain at learning of her grandfather’s terminal illness was somehow increased by the knowledge that a man whom she’d ended the afternoon finding most agreeable was in fact nothing but a dirtbag. ‘You talked with him without knowing if I wanted this?’ she whispered at last, turning back to him, her eyes glistening with tears.

‘Yes, Nena, I did. Villalba is a practical man. I have informed myself, followed his career over a period of several years. He will take care of you, look out for you and the fortune you are going to inherit.’

‘I don’t care about any of that!’ she exclaimed.

‘Maybe not, but I do. Please do this for me,’ he added, a softer, pleading note entering his voice. ‘I can die in peace knowing that you are in his hands.’

‘Oh, please don’t talk like that,’ she begged once more, kneeling next to him.

‘Then agree to my request,’ Don Rodrigo said, exercising a considerable amount of emotional pressure. He sighed inwardly. It was the only way to bring the matter to a fast and satisfactory conclusion. ‘Answer me, Nena. Tell me you’ll do as I ask.’

Nena stared through her tears at the carpet, her emotions in turmoil. The last thing she wanted was to be married to a man she barely knew. A wave of frustration overtook her. This was, after all, the most important step in her life—yet she had no control over it. Despite her feelings, she already knew what the answer must be.

‘I’ll do it, Grandfather,’ she whispered.

At that moment she hated Ramon Villalba.