Indiscretion (34 page)

In her bedroom, Alexandra thought carefully about what to wear. She chose a simple long dress in soft orange silk, the rippling shades of which ranged from maroon to pale peach, enhancing the warm colour of her green eyes, making them seem wider. It was a slightly more daring dress than those she usually wore: the deep V-neck of
her corsage showed off the gentle curve of her breasts. Before washing her hair, she had worked into it a creamy substance made from oils and plants that Agustina had given her. Now it looked lush and shiny as she piled it up on the crown of her head, showing off the delicate oval of her face. As the sun that morning had given her skin a healthy-looking hue, she wore no make-up except for some lip gloss, a little eye-shadow and mascara. Ordinarily, she didn't spend so much time on her appearance, but she wanted to look her best for Salvador that night. When she had finished, she was not displeased with her reflection in the long mirror.

Alexandra came down just as José was ushering their guests into the drawing room. She paused for a few seconds on the bottom step of the staircase before crossing the hall to join them.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear,' exclaimed Doña María Dolores as Alexandra appeared in the doorway.‘I was a little concerned you might have caught the sun this morning but I see our weather agrees with you. You look particularly radiant tonight. Did you have a nice time?'

Alexandra bent to kiss the
Duquesa
's forehead. ‘Good evening,
Abuela.
And yes, thank you.' She smiled at the old lady.

‘I think you've already met my granddaughter, Doña Alexandra de Falla,' said the dowager, turning to the
Marquesa
, who was sitting in an armchair next to the fireplace.

‘Indeed,' said the latter with a chilly smile. ‘I've met Doña Alexandra on several occasions.' Alexandra was conscious of ice-blue eyes surveying her insolently, and her hand itched to swipe that superior expression off Doña Isabel's aristocratic face.

‘I am delighted to see you again,
señorita
,' Don Felipe, impeccably dressed in an oatmeal beige suit and standing behind his sister's chair, gave an elegant bow. Just before he did so, Alexandra was aware of his velvety gaze moving smoothly over her body, as if those dark, gleaming eyes intended to strip her to the soul. Although self-conscious and ill at ease, she managed a gracious smile.

Alexandra was on the point of seating herself next to Esmeralda on the sofa when José announced dinner was served. Instinctively,
her eyes searched for Salvador. He was standing on the other side of the room, looking devastatingly handsome in a crisp white dress shirt and a black suit. Alexandra willed him to look at her but his face remained impassive. He didn't even glance at her as he made his way over to Doña Isabel, offering his arm so they could go into dinner together. With a pang she registered that the
Marquesa
was leaning a little too close to him, almost clinging to his arm, and was casting him coquettish looks and smiles. He, on the other hand, was unreadable, neither overtly responding, nor trying to get away.

As though her grandmother's piercing grey eyes had penetrated her soul, Doña María Dolores chose that moment to tell Alexandra that the
Marquesa
had suffered a fall that morning while walking in the grounds, and had twisted her ankle.

‘Fortunately we were able to send word to Dr Perez, who came over immediately and assured us that it is only a benign sprain.' Then, much to the annoyance of Don Felipe who was making a move towards Alexandra, the dowager turned and held out her hand to him. ‘Let us lead the way,' she said pointedly, before he had time to offer his arm to her granddaughter.

They went into dinner and took their seats. Alexandra let her eyes wander round the table. The family were all there. Salvador was at the head, with Doña Isabel on his right. At the other end sat the
Duquesa
, with Don Felipe on her right. The others were seated in the order dictated by etiquette and Alexandra found herself placed next to the
torero
.

There was electricity in the air; Alexandra could sense its undercurrents quivering in the atmosphere. Conversation was stilted. Doña María Dolores was courteously reserved, particularly with Don Felipe, in keeping to general topics, but Alexandra, who by now knew her well, was aware of a certain impatience in her manner. Doña Eugenia, her features fixed in a permanent artificial smile, unobtrusively observed her daughter and seemed rather worried. Mercedes had indeed lost her usual vivacity and was eating her paella in silence like a sulky child. Now and again, she would cast a stormy
glance at the
Marquesa
, who, unconcerned, could not keep her eyes off Salvador. Her cascading laugh erupted every time the young man gave her the opportunity, filling the room with its characteristic tremolo, the inevitable effect of which was the irritation of most of those present. Don Alonso and Esmeralda hardly spoke and when they did it was fleeting. Only Ramón seemed completely at ease. As usual on such occasions, he had difficulty in keeping a straight face, and more than once tried to lighten the atmosphere by telling a joke that invariably fell on deaf ears.

Alexandra could not say whether Salvador was aware of the awkwardness his guests had caused. He appeared uninterested in her, detached, exercising his duty as host. Or was it more than that? Not once did he look across the table at Alexandra; not once did their eyes meet. Could he not have spared her just one telling glance to show that he had been as moved as she by their passionate embrace that morning? She knew he was deliberately avoiding her again. Was he already regretting it?

A tremor ran through her body as the memory of his touch suffused her mind. Alexandra ached for him, despite the coiled and remote air he was displaying tonight; but she was upset by his repeated determination to hurt her. She knew the powerful pain gnawing at her insides was jealousy and she was deeply ashamed of it. Still, she could not help herself.

Looking at him now, sitting next to Doña Isabel, she had to admit they formed a very handsome couple and the
Marquesa
was certainly well-suited to him. They'd had a whirlwind romance and Alexandra reflected achingly that first love is often the strongest. Perhaps, in toying with Alexandra, Salvador had been merely salving an old wound, channelling his broken feelings for Doña Isabel into his purely physical attraction for Alexandra — or even Marujita, for that matter; playing with them both in an ultimately meaningless dalliance. Her heart gave a painful squeeze as she watched Doña Isabel murmur something to him and smile. There was an undeniable intimacy between the pair and it hurt to watch.

The
Marquesa
was beautiful, rich and titled; above all, she belonged to his world, initiated to the ways and traditions of this exotic and flamboyant land. How could Alexandra possibly compete? That morning, she had been aware of a deep synchronized tuning between herself and Salvador, and she had thought she could make him happy; now she was not so sure. She was weary of this inscrutable dance, for which she didn't know the steps, and in which she so often stumbled and fell.

‘Doña Alexandra, would you like to visit our
bodegas
in Puerto de Santa María next week?' Don Felipe's question reached her through the fog of her thoughts.

‘Er … yes, yes, of course,' she heard herself answer absentmindedly.

After having exchanged small talk with his hostess for decorum's sake, the young
torero
had given his full attention to Alexandra. Unaware that her mind was elsewhere, he had set about telling her the history of the sherry industry in Spain, and particularly the role his family had played in developing it in this part of Andalucía, hence his invitation to Puerto de Santa María. But she had not been listening, absorbed as she was in her obsession.

And now, suddenly, Alexandra was angry: angry with Salvador for ignoring her, with Doña Isabel for making her feel so ordinary and inadequate but, most of all, angry with herself for being such a fool. She was behaving like a mixed-up, gauche adolescent and she despised her own weakness in allowing the pair of them to sap her self-confidence in this way. Being in control of her thoughts and feelings had never been a problem in the past and yet, suddenly, she was assailed by all sorts of emotions that made her feel small and cheap. She would prove to Salvador he was not the only attractive man in the world and that it was so easy for her to do without his attentions.

Turning to Don Felipe, she began to encourage his assiduity with renewed enthusiasm. She couldn't be certain but she fancied she saw Salvador's jaw tighten; she began to feel slightly better.

After dinner they went into the drawing room to have coffee. The
Duquesa
had found the meal trying so she excused herself and
retired for the evening. The older members of the family followed suit, while the others remained.

Conversation centred on trivialities. Old José came in somewhat unsteadily, holding a heavy salver laden with cups of fine china and baroque silverware. Esmeralda rose to pour the coffee. Mercedes suggested a game of charades.

‘Charades, when we have a virtuoso among us?' Ramón cried out, putting his hands to his chest in a dramatic gesture, pretending to be horrified. He turned to his cousin. ‘Alexandra, would you play the piano for us?' Mischief danced in his eyes as he watched Doña Isabel stir uncomfortably in her seat, looking daggers at him.

‘I haven't played seriously in years,' Alexandra protested, feeling the colour in her cheeks.

‘Nonsense,' Ramón went on. ‘I've heard you play several times in the afternoon when you thought no one was listening.' Then, turning to the others, he added, ‘She's a very talented young lady, you know.'

‘What a marvellous idea!' Don Felipe said emphatically, crossing the room and holding out his hand to Alexandra with a flourish. ‘Please,' he whispered huskily, ‘it would give me such pleasure to hear you play.' She put her hand in his, rather embarrassed by this public display of effusive chivalry. He pressed it to his lips before leading her to the piano. She couldn't help giving an inward smile at the thought of Salvador's reaction.

Don Felipe ran his fingers over the richly varnished surface and, before lifting the lid, turned to his host. ‘Will you permit me, Don Salvador?' he asked in a sugary tone.

Salvador, aloof and impassive as ever, nodded. ‘Go ahead, please,' he said coolly, his eyes narrowing only slightly.

The
torero
raised the lid slowly and lightly touched one of the ivory keys, then another and another. ‘It would give me much pleasure to hear you play,' he repeated, turning to Alexandra, his velvety-black eyes caressing behind their curtain of dark lashes.

‘We would all love you to play for us,' Esmeralda assured her, leaving no alternative to the others but to join in.

‘I'm really a mediocre musician,' Alexandra told them with an apologetic little shrug as she seated herself on the satin-upholstered stool. However, she quickly set about sorting through the pile of music lying on top of the piano, picked out a sheet and placed it in front of her.

She chose a familiar piece by Chopin. The rhythmic and somewhat rousing melody brought back childhood memories of when she was a young girl in long plaits with red ribbons, scampering happily over the wide expanses of Hyde Park, or through the dark woods of Kent where she sometimes went with her Aunt Geraldine to gather wild mushrooms and strawberries.

As the first notes of the mazurka flooded the room, Alexandra noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that Salvador had left his armchair and moved across to lean against the mantelpiece, from where he had a perfect view of her. She could feel the intensity of his enigmatic gaze resting on her and was aware that it was the first time that evening he had so much as acknowledged her presence. Every now and again she allowed herself to glance up. His eyes held a silent hunger, his lovemaking unspoken in his every look.

Alexandra congratulated herself on having chosen such a light piece. She had played it so often to entertain Aunt Geraldine during the long wintry evenings that her fingers now ran effortlessly over the keys. Otherwise, she would have faltered under Salvador's powerful stare. Why did he have to make things so difficult? He was at it again, blowing hot and cold, engaging in his fickle game of read-me-if-you-can.

As Alexandra struck the last notes of the finale, her audience applauded enthusiastically.

‘Magnificent!' Don Felipe exclaimed warmly. ‘Absolutely magnificent! Would you do us the honour of playing for us some more, Doña Alexandra, and will you permit me to choose something a little soulful this time?' he asked as he flicked through the pile of music.

‘My dear Felipe, I'm sorry to drag you away from your entertainment,' said Doña Isabel as she rose from the sofa, giving
Alexandra no time to reply. ‘It's been a long day. We mustn't abuse our host's hospitality.' Her brother glared petulantly at her but she clearly wasn't concerned, wanting to end the evening as quickly as possible. Tense and irritable-looking, her demeanour looked very different from the relaxed and laughing self she had displayed over dinner. The
Marquesa
bade her hosts goodnight, thanking them for their friendly and generous reception. She expressed her gratitude especially to Esmeralda for calling a doctor so promptly after she had injured herself that afternoon and for providing emergency supplies but her smile changed to one of contempt as she came up to Alexandra.

‘Thank you, my dear, it was kind of you to amuse us.' Her condescension was horribly blatant. ‘Although, I always think those lightweight, easy pieces are perhaps best kept for the schoolroom.'

‘You mustn't take any notice of my sister when she's in this mood,' the
torero
interjected hurriedly, casting a glare at Isabel. He took Alexandra's hand and brushed her fingers lightly against his lips. ‘You played magically,' he declared fervently, ‘truly magically! I hope you'll do me the honour of playing for me again soon.'