At the Spanish Duke's Command (10 page)

“Which we both know is absurd. Plus, frankly, what you feel or don't feel is of no damned interest to me, Juan. I am not your concern,” she bit back. “You'd do better to worry about your future wife.”

“Why this sudden attack of aggressive childishness?” he asked haughtily.

“Oh, leave me alone,” she muttered, looking away, her lips set in a tight line that boded ill.

Juan sighed. This wasn't going to be an easy task. Obviously Georgiana was hurt and angry with him. He would have to manage the situation with kid gloves.

“Come,” he said, his tone appeasing, “we can't discuss
this here in the airport. I'll drive you back to the Castellana and we can discuss matters on the way.”

“There's nothing to discuss,” she threw, almost crying out the words. His presence, the closeness of his being, was too painful to bear. “Just leave me alone. Don't come near me. I don't want to see you. I'm here for Leticia, not for you.” On that she grabbed her bag from him and ran out of the building to the front of the taxi queue, and entered the first vehicle before he could stop her.

Juan started after her, then, realising it was useless, he watched, fists clenched, as the taxi merged into early-evening traffic. With an effort he mastered his temper. This was ridiculous behaviour and he wasn't about to tolerate it! Georgiana might be young, but she had been woman enough to sleep with him. And that, he reminded himself, was what all this was about. For he had every intention, he knew suddenly, of sleeping with her again.

With quick, angry steps he returned to his Ferrari parked at the kerb and swore when he saw the parking ticket tucked under the windscreen wiper. Thrusting it into the pocket of his blazer, he got in the car and gunned the engine.

Georgiana was driving him nuts.

He wanted her, damn it! Needed her more than anything or anyone since Leonora had died. Pressing his foot down hard on the accelerator, Juan joined the traffic. He was not about to let her go just because of his marriage of convenience. There must be a solution—if only he could hit upon it.

Pressing the pedal to the floor, Juan drove back towards the city bemused. Rarely was he at a loss. But the truth was, this situation had him flummoxed. He needed to come up with a game plan that would work for all three of them.

Georgiana would have to be installed in an apartment of
her own—though actually the cover of her being at the Castellana might work too. After all, no one would suspect them of carrying on an affair. He would tell Leticia he intended them to move to La Moraleja, into his mother's house, right away. The only major hitch was getting Georgiana to agree to the scheme. Even in his more optimistic moments he had a feeling she would never be that kind of woman.

Another oath escaped him as he reached the city, and drove towards the Castellana, sure he would find her there.

Surely a man of his experience could handle such a situation? After all, he justified, he had every intention of making her happy, didn't he?

“D
ONDE
vamos, señorita?”
The taxi driver glanced in the rear-view mirror enquiringly.

For a moment Georgiana was at a complete loss.

Where to go and what to do? Now that she'd rid herself of Juan it was impossible to think of returning to his apartment in the Castellana. Could she go to stay with Gail, a Canadian fellow student? No, because she couldn't remember Gail's address.

All at once, seeing the taxi driver's rising impatience, Georgiana threw out an address. It was only as she leaned back in the plastic-covered seat that she acknowledged that Leticia was the last person with whom she should be taking refuge. But it was the only other place to go. Perhaps she should be truthful and tell Leticia what Juan was up to. It seemed so unfair that the other woman should be entrapped into a marriage with a man who had been so blatantly deceiving her.

And she, Georgiana, was the other guilty party, she reminded herself, cheeks flaming. The minute she placed the situation in its true context it seemed sordid. To think that she'd been a major part of it all was even more horrifying. If she had heard of anyone else involved in similar circumstances she would have been up in arms. Yet she had been a willing participant.

Had been
being the operative words, she reminded her
self savagely. Never again would she allow Juan into her bed.

As the taxi wove in and out of traffic Georgiana composed herself. She must come up with a valid excuse for Leticia. The more she thought about the situation the more aware she became that she had no right to hurt the woman. It occurred to her that perhaps Juan was right when he said Leticia expected him to have affairs. For, however strange that might seem to Georgiana, with her British upbringing, it was true that here in Spain things were conducted differently. She sighed and looked out at the busy street, aware suddenly that she might be doing Leticia more harm than good by blurting out the truth.

By the time the black and red-striped taxi drew up before the smart apartment building in Velazquez, where Leticia resided, she'd come up with a brilliant excuse: the bridesmaid's dress. She would justify her sudden visit by saying that she was so worried that she'd come straight from the airport to sort out the details. After all, Leticia had told her mother the dresses had already been delivered to her but needed a last fitting, so that the designer could be called immediately.

But as she stood on the pavement after paying off the cab Georgiana's confidence dwindled. She let out a deep, sad sigh and warded off the pain that threatened to engulf her once more. In a few short weeks her life had gone from the happy carefree existence of a young girl to the excruciatingly complicated existence of a woman facing one of life's hardest dilemmas.

Picking up her bag, she moved towards the front of the building and stepped inside the glass doors. A porter sat behind a desk in the beige marble entrance. Two large tropical plants flanked the chrome elevator doors.

“I would like to see Señorita de Sandoval, please,” she said, plastering on a smile.

“I will call up at once,” the porter replied graciously. “Whom should I announce?”

Georgiana gave her name and waited, suddenly conscious of exactly where she was and how odd it would seem to Leticia. Thanks to Juan's deviousness and her own stupidity she was about to play the most hypocritical role of her short career.

As the man smiled and led her to the lift, Georgiana felt thoroughly ashamed.

 

How odd that Georgiana had come directly from the airport to her apartment, Leticia thought. Then she shrugged and smiled, too used to seeing Pablito's students to be surprised by anything this generation did.

She had been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, for she needed some time to think by herself, but so be it. She'd been trying to deceive herself for a while now, but in the last few days life had become increasingly complicated. With a sigh, and determined to ignore the niggling headache that had tormented her for the past couple of days, Leticia mustered a welcoming smile and opened the front door herself, since Lola, her maid, had the night off.

But when the lift doors opened she gazed in shock at the wisp of a girl before her. Georgiana looked exhausted.

“Georgiana—
gusto en ver te
,” she said, moving forward and taking her into a welcoming embrace. Then she drew back keeping her hands on the girl's shoulders, and frowned. “I know I shouldn't be asking you this,
querida
, but is something the matter? You look so pale and tired.”

For an instant Georgiana was tempted to fall into Leticia's sympathetic arms and pour out the whole story. Then reason intervened just in time and she knew she had no
right to confide her misery to this woman. Rallying a smile, she shook her head.

“I'm fine. Just a bit tired. Too much partying in London,” she lied, following her hostess into the apartment, noting how prettily and tastefully decorated it was.

“Put your bag down there—” Leticia pointed to the hall chair “—and we'll have something to eat. Do you mind slumming it in the kitchen? It's Lola's night off and I was planning on whipping up something simple, like an omelette or a sandwich.”

“Please don't feel obliged to get anything for me,” Georgiana murmured uncomfortably, knowing what an intrusion this must be. She hadn't even phoned Leticia to say she was coming. Now the spontaneous idea that in the taxi had seemed so sound left her embarrassed.

“Rubbish.” Leticia laughed, tweaking her brown hair behind her ears and smiling. “I gather you've come straight from the airport?” She raised a surprised brow and glanced at the bag.

“Uh, yes. Well, you see, I felt so bad about the bridesmaid's dress,” Georgiana mumbled, desperately trying to mask her confusion. “You told my mother that the fittings were already delayed, so I thought it might be better if I came right away and—well, I hope I'm not disturbing you. I didn't realise it was quite so late,” she continued uncomfortably; it sounded awfully lame.

“Not at all. I'm glad you did.” Leticia sent her a warm smile. “You can come over any time you like. This is such fun,” she said, taking Georgiana's arm and leading her to the kitchen. “After all, we haven't really had a chance to get to know one another properly, have we? When we see each other it's always with the Condessa—whom I love dearly, of course—or Juan. But now we can have a real chat.”

“Yes, of course.” Georgiana smiled weakly and swallowed. The last thing she wanted was a heart-to-heart chat with her hostess.

The kitchen was bright and up-to-date, with chrome and teak cupboards and a sleek bar counter creating sophisticated yet welcoming surroundings.

Leticia pointed to one of the bar chairs. “Sit down and make yourself at home and I'll see what there is in the fridge. But first, a glass of wine.”

Not knowing how she could refuse the offer of alcohol, Georgiana did as she was told and watched Leticia, very much at ease in a pair of old jeans and a long jersey that looked as if it might have had several previous owners, move about the kitchen.

She seemed so different from the sophisticated woman who'd appeared on Juan's arm the night of the dinner they'd attended at the palace. Even when Leticia had come to the Castellana she'd always appeared very groomed. Yet here she looked like a university student, wandering around in socks and moccasins, her glasses perched on her head. All at once Georgiana wondered whether Juan appreciated this side of his fiancée or if he was only interested in the role she was supposed to play in his life. The thought made her blush again. It was none of her business. She must stop thinking about it.

“Right.” Leticia looked over at her and laughed. “I'm a rotten cook, I'm afraid, so perhaps our best bet would be some Serrano ham sandwiches. But I'm happy to say,” she added, grimacing and lifting up a bottle, “that this is an excellent bottle of Rioja that I've been keeping for a special occasion. It seems appropriate that I should share it with my future bridesmaid.”

Again Georgiana's cheeks flamed, and a shudder ran through her at the thought of what poor Leticia would think
if she knew the truth. She didn't want to talk to her, or share a bottle of wine. All she wanted was to disappear, have the floor gobble her up.

“That's terribly kind of you,” she said weakly, a wave of dizziness gripping her. “But do you think I could have some water?”

“Of course.” Leticia poured a glass of mineral water for her, then, turning, frowned. “Georgiana, are you sure you're all right? You really look awfully drained. I do wish you'd tell me if something is wrong. I promise it won't go any further.” She came over to Georgiana's side and, handing her the glass, rubbed the girl's shoulder.

The kind gesture was more than Georgiana could bear. All at once the flood of tears so long contained burst forth and she let out a sob. “I'm so sorry,” she muttered between sobs. “I d-didn't m-mean to, b-but—”

“Shush,
querida
, everything will be all right. Whatever it is we'll sort it out.” Leticia wrapped her arms around her and soothed her while Georgiana cried harder.

Never had she felt so anguished, so guilty or so duplicitous. What a cruel joke life had played, leading her to the one person she couldn't—wouldn't—confide in. From the moment she'd set eyes on Leticia again Georgiana had known instinctively that to share her pain and remorse with her would be to destroy the other woman's happiness. And she had no right to do that. No right at all.

Then all at once, between Leticia's soothing and Georgiana's subsiding sobs, the sound of the doorbell rang.

“Damn,” Leticia exclaimed, exasperated, “Who on earth can be calling at this time? I'm so sorry,
querida
, but I'm afraid I have to answer it. Please just stay here and I'll be back in a second. It's probably some wretched delivery.”

Georgiana dabbed her face with the tissue that Leticia
had kindly offered her. It was now a soggy damp ball. Gulping, she stretched her stiff back and took a deep breath. She felt utterly washed out but a little calmer now that she'd had a good cry. Bracing herself, she took a gulp of water, dragged her fingers through her hair and waited for Leticia to return, determined to be brave and not cause anyone any unnecessary pain. She would deal with her problem herself, however difficult or hard it was to bear.

 

“
Dios mio
, what on earth are you doing here?” Leticia exclaimed, eyeing Juan askance as he stood on the threshold.

“You don't seem too glad to see me,” he murmured dryly.

“Well, of course I'm glad to see you,” Leticia answered in a harassed voice. “It's just that right now isn't the best moment.”

“I'm sorry,” Juan said stiffly. “Had I been aware that you were entertaining guests I would naturally not have come.”

“Oh, Juan!” she exclaimed, maddened. “I'm not entertaining in the real sense of the word. You only need to look at me to realise that,” she added, pointing to her attire with a rueful smile. “But I do have an unexpected visitor who—who is a little out of sorts.”

“Oh?” Juan raised a brow.

Knowing very well that his macho mind had immediately assumed she had a male caller, Leticia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No,
querido
,” she said in a cajoling tone. “I am sorry to disappoint you but I have no secret lover hiding in the closet.”

“I never thought such a thing,” he replied haughtily.

“Yeah, right.” Leticia grinned at him, unbelieving. “You men are all the same. Actually, it's Georgiana who
has dropped in for a drink. She's a little upset, but I still haven't gathered about what.”

“Georgiana?” His expression changed so radically that Leticia frowned.

“Yes, she very sweetly came here straight from the airport. She was worried about the fitting for her bridesmaid's dress and—”

“Where is she?” he snapped, entering the hall uninvited.

“Why, in the kitchen. But perhaps you'd better—”

Her words died into thin air as Juan marched across the hall and entered the kitchen.

“What in hell's name do you think you are doing here?” he muttered in a tight, low voice that left Georgiana shuddering. He sounded cold and angry, and all at once she thought her heart would burst.

“Oh, hello, Juan,” she said, for Leticia's benefit. “Please don't be angry that I left that day without saying goodbye. I had some things I needed to do in London. Then Leticia called my mother and said the dress fittings were late, so I dropped by here on my way back and…” Sensing she was getting caught up in her own lie, Georgiana shrugged, managed a weak smile and turned to Leticia. “Letti, please may I have some more water?”

“Of course.” Leticia went behind the counter and retrieved the bottle of mineral water from the fridge. Taking out a third glass, she poured wine for Juan while glancing from him to Georgiana. She frowned inwardly. Since Juan's unexpected entrance a strange tenseness had permeated the atmosphere.

Telling herself she must be dreaming, she turned to him and smiled. “Since you're here,
querido
, won't you join us? Then you can drive Georgiana back to the Castellana.” She handed them each their glasses. “I was just telling
Georgiana that it's Lola's night off, so I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me and eat in the kitchen. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. But I don't want to interrupt your
tête-à-tête
.” He threw a quick harsh glance at Georgiana.

“Not at all. You don't mind, do you, Georgiana?”

“Of course not,” she acquiesced. Actually Juan's presence made matters easier. There would be no danger of having to fabricate a confidence for Leticia's benefit.