The Society Bride. Fiona Hood-Stewart

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      ‘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 СКАЧАТЬ