path. His road out of the gutter had begun the day he wandered into Eduardo’s recruitment rally by mistake. Another do-gooder, he’d thought scornfully, contemptuous of the rapt faces all around him. He had believed Eduardo to be one of the rich pigs that came to hand out largesse in the slums to make themselves feel better. Soft bastardo! he’d thought viciously. Ten years old and all fired up, he had been on his way to confront the drug pushers who had killed his brother and Maria’s son, with a loaded gun stuck into his belt and murder on his mind. Eduardo must have seen something of this in his eyes and had called him forward. Chico had remained stubbornly planted, but Eduardo wasn’t so easy to refuse, and Eduardo was big, and hard, and firm, though Chico could still remember shooting venom from his eyes when Eduardo took a firm hold of him. He hated authority. What had authority done for him? Where were the police when his brother was shot? He hated the privilege that brought individuals like Eduardo sightseeing to the barrio and bought rich boys out of trouble. And he hated Eduardo for no better reason than the esteemed polo player was trespassing on Chico’s territory, confronting issues Chico was so sure Eduardo couldn’t understand. But Eduardo had his arm in an iron grip, and his gun was soon in Eduardo’s pocket. There would be no murders committed that day.
‘I owe it all to you and to Eduardo, Maria,’ he said now. ‘Everything I have is because you two believed in me.’
‘And we weren’t wrong, were we?’ Maria planted her capable hands on her ample hips as she confronted him. ‘Against all the odds, the poor boy from the barrio finds himself here.’ She said this expansively, as if they lived in a palace, rather than on a ranch as she gestured around ecstatically with another of her beaming smiles.
His face softened too. How could it not? Every day he relished this life, for Maria’s sake as much as his own. It couldn’t have happened if Eduardo hadn’t treated him like a son, believing in him, however hard Chico had made things for Eduardo. And Chico had made things hard, though he had idolised his mentor. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to have been chosen to work for such a famous polo player. Having taken him out of the barrio, Eduardo had shown him that there was so much more to life than drugs and guns and war, and when he’d died Eduardo had left Chico everything, knowing his devoted charge would pick up Eduardo’s causes and infuse them with new life.
He had used the money Eduardo left him to buy and develop a hand-to-mouth scrub ranch, which after years of hard labour he had transformed from an unpromising stretch of land into the most prestigious polo centre in the world. He had accomplished this because he was meticulous and driven, and because, as Eduardo had noted, Chico had a special way with horses. This gift came from the early days of working for Eduardo, Chico believed. When he could confide in no one else the ponies listened to him, and in return they gave him their trust. This interaction between man and beast had led owners and players alike to think he had some special magic. There was no magic. Polo ponies were competitive and he gave them every reason to trust him, so they obeyed his smallest command. They trusted him to keep them safe and bring out the best in them. Women thought the same thing, but unlike the animals, he had no interest in wasting his time or his emotions on women.
‘Chico...?’ Maria prompted hesitantly, seeing he was lost in thought.
‘Maria?’ He gave her an encouraging smile.
‘Would you like me to walk you through this year’s intake of scholarship students?’
‘No. Thank you, Maria, but I’ll take the list with me, and study your report later.’
He didn’t want anyone around when he did that, let alone the impressionable Maria. Reading that one name had been enough to make him feel as if his guts had been wrenched out and thrust down his throat, and he had to take a moment to control the emotion clawing at his senses that said someone would pay for this oversight.
Yes. He should pay. He should have checked this year’s intake before he went on the polo tour, and then this would never have happened.
‘Is something troubling you, Chico?’ Maria asked him with concern.
‘There’s never enough time, Maria.’ He half smiled as he said this, needing to put Maria off the scent. She could read him so easily after all these years of working closely together, and this was one occasion when he could do without her friendly advice. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he insisted as he took charge of the list. ‘I trust my selection team, which is why I appointed them.’
‘Of course, Chico,’ the older woman agreed, her gaze sliding away from his, as if she was only halfway convinced.
He couldn’t blame his team for this error. How were they supposed to know what had happened in his youth? People had only heard rumours. Even Maria didn’t know everything. There were some things Chico would never share, not even with Maria.
His stomach clenched as he thought back to the day Serena Fane had accused him of rape. It was a preposterous lie, but who would believe him, the poor boy from the slums of Brazil? He had stood no chance against the might of the British aristocracy. He had written to Lizzie on countless occasions after that first letter, begging for an explanation, so sure she’d write back. They’d been so close. She was the only young friend he’d ever had, and he’d trusted her completely. And, yes, she’d been beautiful, but Lizzie had been so far out of his reach, he had only dared to talk to her when she’d shown an interest in befriending him.
Rape was a word he’d associated with the murderers who had killed his brother, and his shock when Lizzie had ignored his letters begging her to clear his name was indescribable. He could only think that she had sided with them—her slutty mother and drunken father, whom he had guessed all along were only looking for ‘hush money’ from Eduardo. He had never discovered if any money had changed hands, as Eduardo would never speak of it, but he had his suspicions, especially as when Chico became headline news in the polo world Serena had reappeared, threatening to reopen the scandal if he didn’t ‘make her comfortable’.
He’d thrown her out, and had only baulked at bringing charges for blackmail against her because Lizzie’s grandmother had been so good to him, and he didn’t want to bring the old lady any more pain. Lizzie’s grandmother was the only other person, apart from Eduardo, who had believed in him, and she had helped Eduardo get him away when Lord Fane had brought his scandalous charges at the behest of his wife. Chico always paid his debts, and he never forgot a slight, but if only Lizzie had had the courage to speak out at the time none of this would have happened. And, yes, she was only fifteen at the time, but it was clear to him now that their friendship had meant nothing to her.
Too heated to remain in the office, he headed out to check the ranch. He did this every season when he returned from the polo circuit. It wasn’t a quick job as his land extended to tens of thousands of acres these days and took a few weeks to inspect. There were preparations to make before he left. While his students were settling in, this was the best time for him to be away. There were other tutors who would take care of them and start their training while he was gone. When he came back he’d check Lady Elizabeth Fane out, to see what the hell Lizzie thought she was doing here. His best guess was that from interrogation to deportation would take a lot less time than inspecting his ranch.
‘A COLD POULTICE was what you needed, wasn’t it?’ Stepping back, Lizzie took a long thoughtful look at the patient. She was relieved to see the pony was happy enough to start nosing a net of hay. ‘That, and a bit of a chat,’ she prescribed, stroking the polo pony’s velvety ears. ‘The swelling’s gone down and you’ll soon be back to your usual cantankerous self—answering back with a nip on the arm whenever I speak to you.’
