His Counterfeit Condesa. Joanna Fulford

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      The green eyes gleamed in their turn. ‘Well, yes. Did you not abandon me to spend a night in the open with five men and a broken wagon?’

      ‘Wretch! You’re not going to let me forget it, are you?’

      ‘Certainly not,’ she replied.

      At this point all his preconceived ideas had vanished; she was unlike anyone he had ever met. In his experience young women did not usually meet his eye in just that way, and certainly didn’t engage in verbal sparring. Beauty and wit were an attractive combination. She wasn’t afraid of him either. He wasn’t even sure if she liked him. On balance, he suspected not.

      They returned to the inn and paid their shot before resuming the journey in a more companionable silence. Sabrina’s gaze went to the window but in truth she saw little of the passing countryside. Her mind was focused on the man sitting opposite. Thus far she had not allowed herself to think too far ahead, but now the implications of their relationship crowded in. For the first time in her life she was thrown together with a man whom she knew hardly at all and in circumstances that required a certain amount of intimacy. Falconbridge was unlikely to do anything that might jeopardise the success of their mission, and he didn’t seem the type to force unwanted attentions on any woman. However, she had learned early not to put her trust in appearances. Faith was a loaded pistol and she had a brace of them, should the need arise.

      As for the rest, the villages they passed were few and mean, little more than clusters of hovels whose inhabitants eked a subsistence living from a grudging soil. It didn’t shock her for she had seen it many times on her travels, but it did occur to her to wonder where they would spend the night. In the past she had slept in many places and knew that she would infinitely prefer a well-kept barn to a dirty inn. Even sleeping in the open was better than that. She decided to ask. The answer was immediately forthcoming.

      ‘We shall stay at La Posada del Rey.’

      ‘The King’s Inn. It sounds quite grand.’

      ‘I doubt if the king would be seen dead there,’ he replied, ‘but at least it’s clean and well run. I’ve used it before on occasions.’

      ‘I’m sure it will be satisfactory.’

      ‘Don’t expect luxury or I fear you’ll be disappointed.’

      Sabrina laughed. ‘I became accustomed to rough living very early on. A clean inn is a luxury compared to a bed on open ground.’

      He regarded her in surprise, not so much on account of her reply as the way in which laughter lit her face. It occurred to him again that she was rather more than just a pretty girl.

      ‘I hope never to subject you to such rude accommodation,’ he replied. ‘Rather I promise you a comfortable chamber all to yourself.’

      Though the words were blandly spoken they were also meant as reassurance and she knew it. The matter of their sleeping arrangements had been on her mind since they had set out. She suspected he had guessed as much, and also that she would rather have died before mentioning the subject.

      ‘I shall hold you to that, sir.’ Her tone was equally bland.

      The grey eyes gleamed. ‘I was certain you would, my dear.’

      Unsure what to make of that she searched his expression for clues, but the rugged features gave nothing away.

      Chapter Three

      The journey resumed uneventfully next morning and, over the next few days, they made good progress, whiling away the time in conversation and sometimes with cards. Sabrina also took the opportunity to learn as much as possible about the woman she was impersonating. Her companion supplied as much detail as he could. All the same, she could already see potential pitfalls, such as the fact that she had never been to the Languedoc. Falconbridge did not seem unduly unconcerned.

      ‘The Condesa must have been very young when the family left Toulouse,’ he said. ‘It’s entirely possible she wouldn’t recall very much anyway.’

      ‘That’s fortunate. There may be French officers present at this party.’

      ‘I imagine there will. Try to steer the conversation away from potentially dangerous topics.’

      She smiled faintly. ‘If things look dangerous I’ll ask the officer to talk about himself. Then I won’t have to do more than nod and smile for the next hour or so.’

      ‘You think any man could speak for so long about himself?’

      ‘In my experience it’s usually a favourite topic of conversation; present company excepted, of course.’

      The dulcet tone elicited a faint smile. ‘I’m relieved to hear it. I should hate to think that I was such a bore.’

      ‘Hardly that.’ Sabrina thought that bore was the last word she would use to describe him.

      ‘Another load off my mind,’ he replied. ‘Is your knowledge of men so extensive?’

      With those words Jack Denton’s image resurfaced and with it a recollection of hurt and humiliation. She pushed it aside, forcing herself to remain collected. ‘How am I to take that?’

      ‘Given your unusual upbringing, you must have met many of my sex. Were they all such confoundedly dull dogs as your remark suggests?’

      ‘No, not all. Some were good company.’ She was minded to add a rider to that but refrained.

      ‘Indeed? And did your father allow you to keep such company?’

      An indignant retort leapt to mind immediately. Just in time she caught the sardonic glint in his eye and realised he had been quizzing her again.

      ‘That was an outrageous suggestion.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose it was.’ He didn’t look or sound repentant. ‘I find myself curious, you see.’

      ‘About what?’

      ‘Given your bohemian lifestyle it cannot have been easy to meet eligible young men.’

      ‘I never thought of them in such a way,’ she replied. ‘Some were my father’s friends, others were officers whom I met in the course of events.’

      ‘But none for whom you felt a particular partiality?’

      ‘No,’ she lied.

      ‘You’re never going to tell me that they looked upon you with similar indifference.’

      ‘I really have no idea. You’d have to ask them.’ Another lie, she thought. Somehow it went against the grain to tell a falsehood to this man, but the truth was a nest of hornets and best left alone.

      He continued to regard her steadily. ‘And yet you have been of marriageable age for some time.’

      ‘You make it sound as though I were quite on the shelf.’ The words were spoken СКАЧАТЬ