His Counterfeit Condesa. Joanna Fulford

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      ‘Oh, no, I beg you will not regard it,’ she replied. ‘I have been quite entertained.’

      Across the room Willis made a strange choking sound and received an icy stare from Jacinta. Falconbridge raised an eyebrow. Sabrina’s cheeks went scarlet.

      ‘With my book, I mean.’

      ‘But of course,’ he replied. ‘What else?’

      The innocent tone didn’t deceive her for a moment. He was outrageous. Moreover, he was enjoying himself. She heard him dismiss the two servants. When they had gone, he took the volume from her hand and examined the cover.

      ‘Lazarillo de Tormes. Does your father know?’

      ‘Of course he knows. He lent—’ She broke off, seeing the slow grin spread across his face. The gleam in the grey eyes was deeply disconcerting.

      ‘Did he? Well, he really has attended to every part of his daughter’s education.’

      She wondered if he were shocked. It was, she admitted, a real possibility, for, while the concept of the picaresque novel was hardly new, this one could be read on different levels—particularly its numerous sexual metaphors.

      ‘Do you disapprove?’

      ‘Not at all.’ He paused. ‘Do you care?’

      ‘No.’ The word was out before she could stop it. She hurried on, ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to be rude.’

      ‘You weren’t—just beautifully frank.’

      ‘Father always encouraged me to read widely.’

      ‘So I gather.’ He glanced again at the cover. ‘And it is a wickedly good book, isn’t it?’

      ‘Oh, yes, very.’

      ‘Wicked or good?’

      His expression drew a reluctant laugh. ‘Both, since you ask.’

      ‘Good girl.’

      Unsure how to take this, she eyed him quizzically. He laid the book aside and then gestured to the door.

      ‘Shall we?’

      Dinner that evening comprised local fare but it was well cooked. Sabrina was hungry, too, after their day on the road. The conversation was kept to general topics but she found her companion informed on a wide variety of subjects. It came as no surprise now. She was forced to acknowledge that none of the officers she had met in recent times had interested her half so much. He had told her something of his background but only the essentials. All in all, she thought, he volunteered very little about himself. It roused her curiosity.

      ‘Tell me some more about your family,’ she said. ‘Your brother, for instance.’

      The genial expression became more guarded. ‘What about him?’

      ‘You said you weren’t close. May I ask why?’

      His fingers tightened on the stem of his wine glass, but when he spoke his voice was perfectly level. ‘We had a disagreement. It was some years ago.’

      ‘And you’ve never been reconciled?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘How sad. What did you argue about?’ The question had been innocent enough but the grey eyes hardened. Sabrina was mortified. ‘Forgive me. I had no right to ask that.’

      ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He paused as though inwardly debating something. Then he said, ‘It was over a woman, as it happened.’

      ‘Ah, you both liked the same one.’

      The accuracy of the observation startled him. In spite of himself he experienced a certain wry amusement. ‘Yes. My brother won.’

      ‘Was she very beautiful?’

      ‘Very.’

      ‘What happened?’

      He swirled the remaining wine in his glass. ‘She married Hugh.’

      ‘Oh.’ For a moment she was silent, uncomfortably aware of having strayed into dangerous territory. Yet having gone there, she found herself wanting to know more, to understand. ‘That could not have been easy.’

      He bit back a savage laugh. The understatement was huge, though she could not have known it. Did one ever truly recover from a blow like that?’It was some years ago,’ he replied, ‘and one gets over disappointment. The incident belongs to the past and I am content to leave it there.’

      It was a clear hint. They changed the subject after that, but the conversation had given Sabrina much to think about. For all his quiet assertion to the contrary it was evident that the lady had hurt him. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to. She had clearly loved his brother more and one couldn’t dictate to the human heart. Her gaze rested on the man opposite. Had his earlier experience made him wary? Was that why he had never married? It seemed increasingly likely. It was also a reaction she found quite understandable.

      Falconbridge tossed back the rest of his wine and then got to his feet. ‘We have another long day on the road tomorrow and it would be as well to get some rest.’

      Sabrina rose, too, though rather more reluctantly, for the sleeping arrangements were etched on her consciousness. He stood back to let her precede him out of the door, and then accompanied her to the stairs. Then he paused.

      ‘You go on ahead. I need to speak to Willis and Blakelock about arrangements for the morning.’

      It was tactful and once again she was grateful. On returning to the room she found Jacinta waiting. With her help Sabrina undressed and donned her nightgown. Then she sat at the dresser while the maid unpinned her hair and brushed it out. In the looking glass Jacinta’s dark eyes locked with hers.

      ‘Do you wish me to remain here tonight?’ she asked. ‘As a chaperone?’

      Sabrina smiled wryly. ‘I assure you I am quite safe from Major Falconbridge.’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘Why should you doubt it?’

      ‘Because he is a man.’

      ‘He did not create this situation. It was always possible that it would happen at some point.’

      ‘Maybe so, but I have seen the way he looks at you when he thinks himself unobserved.’

      Sabrina shook her head. ‘You are mistaken. He has never shown the least regard for me, other than as a…a colleague.’

      ‘He does not look at his other colleagues in that way.’

      ‘I am sure there is not the least occasion for concern.’

      ‘Best make certain. Put a pistol beneath your pillow.’

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