They quickly mounted their horses.
“Thank God you decided to travel along with me!” Don Pedro said feelingly. He shuddered. “I cannot imagine why I let my sister talk me into such a peculiar situation! A postulant-bride—I wonder what she looks like? If she was scared to death about meeting a man, I’m certainly glad we were able to put off meeting her! I quite dread coming back here, I tell you.”
His companion laughed harshly.
“Cheer up, amigo. Think of the pleasures that lie ahead of you. The duchess of Alba seemed fascinated by your tales of New Spain last night, and since she just happens to be visiting Seville herself—”
Don Pedro gave a self-satisfied laugh. “Did you notice that she almost ignored that painter fellow who’s always hanging around her? But you, my friend, had better exercise some caution where Her Majesty the Queen is concerned! I understand she goes after whatever or whoever she wants—and Godoy can be a dangerous enemy.”
“Ah, well!” The other gave a careless shrug. “Manuel Godoy can hardly look on me as a rival since I’ll be leaving within the next three weeks. And Maria Luisa will find another cavalier to flirt with in order to keep her lover on his toes!”
“It must be your confounded air of indifference, I swear, that attracts the ladies to you! While the rest of us play at being gallant, there you stand, your arms folded and that damned cynical smile on your face—I can’t understand it! Even my practical, icy-hearted cousin Inez, whom we had nicknamed ‘the cold unassailable’ almost threw everything away she had so carefully planned—and I, who know her better than most, could swear you hardly paid her any attention.” Don Pedro laughed, glancing sideways at his taller companion, who merely raised an eyebrow and made no comment. He rode his restive stallion as easily as if it had been a tame gelding, guiding it with one hand on the reins and the pressure of his knees. Like a vaquero, as Don Pedro had commented before.
Now, slightly annoyed by the lack of response in his friend, Don Pedro added slyly, “I wonder how my cousin took your sudden departure! After you’d fought a duel over her, and with her husband lying wounded in bed, I’m sure she must have expected you’d stay to console her. Don Andres—”
“Don Andres is to be your father-in-law, is he not? Perhaps you’d best not let your little bride-to-be find out you came to inspect her with the man who came close to killing her father. She might wonder!”
“I doubt if the frightened little chit is capable of wondering about anything except what it might feel like to be mounted by a man!” Don Pedro said brutally, giving vent to a burst of coarse laughter. He felt angry and frustrated that his dutiful visit to the convent, which had delayed his journey to Seville by several hours, had proved so fruitless. Trust Inez and Don Andres to saddle him with a sacred nitwit who had been planning to become a nun! No doubt she was ugly. If she took after her mother’s side of the family she was probably sallow complexioned and spoke with a terrible accent as well. And that stern-faced prioress had acted as if the girl needed to be protected from him. Damn! If not for the size of the dowry involved and the connections he needed to establish himself in New Spain, he’d have told them all to find another candidate.
“Be gentle with my daughter,” Don Andres had said feebly from his bed. “She has been through a great deal in France during the terrible revolution. Her mother went to the guillotine, and if not for the fact that she was still no more than a child, my little Marisa, too, might easily have lost her life.” His face had hardened, words trailing off. Catching the look in Doña Inez’s eyes, Pedro had made haste to assure Don Andres that he need not worry about his daughter’s happiness and well-being. But now—damn it all! Since he had come to Spain, he had realized how much of life he had missed being stuck away in the wilds of Louisiana, managing a run-down plantation. Right now, he didn’t want to think about marriage. His mind was full of thoughts about the fascinatingly beautiful and sophisticated duchess of Alba, who, it was rumored, had allowed her latest lover to paint her in the nude. And he was to meet her again in Seville….
Both men had fallen silent, wrapped in their own thoughts, as they skirted the grove of trees that shielded the convent walls and emerged at last onto the dusty ribbon of highway, beaten down by the passage of many other travelers on their way to Toledo. Neither of them noticed the two pairs of eyes that had watched them ride away.
“I hate him already! Which one of them is Don Pedro?”
Marisa had scaled the convent walls before but always furtively—and only high enough to barely peek over. Now, full of her new mood of defiance, she sat barefoot astraddle the very top of the wide stone wall, shading her eyes with her hand as she squinted after the small cloud of dust the two riders left behind them.
“The taller one, in the dark clothes. At least I am almost certain, for I only heard their voices through the door, you know—and Sor Teresa almost caught me listening!” Blanca, perched comfortably beside Marisa, gave a soft giggle. “He did most of the talking. When I dared peek once, the other one merely sat there chewing his nails. He looked tremendously bored!”
“Bored! They were laughing about their latest conquests just now—didn’t you hear? What fine caballeros, so puffed up with conceit! The one in blue velvet mentioned the duchess of Alba, and—do you suppose they were really talking about the queen? Oh, I can’t bear it!”
Marisa’s small face, looking thinner than ever amid the mass of her heavy hair, was flushed with anger. “They were disgusting—both of them! How could my father?”
“High time you grew up, niña! Men will be men, you know! And if you really hate the thought of marriage that much, maybe you’ll be lucky, and he’ll spend more time with his current mistress than with you! Or—” and Blanca winked broadly and maliciously “—can it be that you are jealous already?”
“You’ll find out how jealous I am! Oh, yes, and he will too, I swear! I’ll never marry a man like that. If they won’t let me become a nun then I—I’ll choose my own husband, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll teach all of them a lesson.”
Blanca stared. “You’re talking crazy now, like the sun has gone to your head. What do you think you can do about it? Even the reverend mother can’t help you now, and in the end you’ll have to give in. Maybe they’ll beat you and lock you up and starve you until you’re ready to agree to anything! I’ve heard of things like that!”
Marisa tossed her head defiantly, impatiently pushing the hair back off her forehead.
“Now you’re the stupid one! Do you think I’m going to submit meekly?”
“No?”
“No, I tell you! I have relatives in France. My mother’s sister, who married an English lord. And my godmother, too. If my own papa is so anxious to be rid of me, they’ll take me in, I’m sure of it.” She leaned forward suddenly, grasping Blanca’s wrist, her voice dropping into a thoughtful whisper. “Didn’t you tell me a little while ago that you were headed for France?”
2
The air of Seville was warm and scented with the odors of cooking, the sweet smell of flowers, and the rankness of sweat as crowds of people jostled each other on the narrow streets. It was the week of the grand fair—the feria—and from all over Spain people had traveled here to take part in the festivities. It was even rumored that the queen and some of her closest intimates were here incognito. And as if to bear out the rumors, there were smartly uniformed guardsmen everywhere, keeping an eye on the crowds.
“You
