The Spanish Lady Read online

  THE SPANISH LADY

  Joan Smith

  Chapter One

  Lady Hadley felt a disquieting tension in the elegant Gold Saloon on Belgrave Square. At two and fifty, her beauty had dwindled to a memory. Her golden hair was fast fading to silver, and her rose-petal cheeks were becoming sere, but some remnants of beauty lingered in her vacuous blue eyes. She watched as her son shredded a perfectly harmless letter to bits of paper and dropped the pieces like snowflakes onto the sofa table. Her son seemed tense today, too. She could not imagine why Edward should be wearing a Friday face, with the pleasures of the Season about to begin.

  He had been in the mopes ever since their arrival in London last week. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come early, but she was always eager to escape from her husband. Hadley, of course, had no use for London. He much preferred the company of his cattle to that of society.

  “I say, Edward,” she said to cheer him up, “you have not forgotten Cousin Algernon’s daughter will be arriving one of these days? Papa wanted you to arrange for meeting her.”

  Strangely, this remark only tightened the thin line of Lord Severn’s lips. She wished he would not do that—so unattractive. She puckered her brow and thought a moment, then said, “How will we know when to expect her? It is not as though she were coming on a stagecoach from Brighton or Bath. A ship coming all the way from Spain might be hours late.”

  “It might be days or even weeks late, Mama,” Severn pointed out. To himself he added, With luck, she may not come at all. A squall at sea, perhaps, would be his salvation.

  It was hard to believe this wide-shouldered, six-foot-tall gentleman with hair as black as jet was Lady Hadley’s son. The only similarity was in the conformation of the eyes: they had the same deep blue eyes, with a sweep of sooty lashes. In Severn’s case, however, the vacuity was replaced by an intelligent twinkle.

  Lady Hadley said, “Days! Good gracious! The poor people waiting for it to land—I hope they take food, and perhaps even a pillow and blanket. But you forget, my dear, did your papa not say something about the Admiralty having scouts on the lookout for ships coming in? You were to ask to be notified when the Princess Maria was spotted. We would not want Lady Helena to land all alone in a foreign country.”

  Lord Severn wished with all his heart she would not land at all. His father’s injunctions rang in his ears. “Thirty years is plenty long enough to fritter away your time. As you cannot find a bride to suit you in England, I have invited Lord Aylesbury to send his daughter to us. Try if you can get her shackled before she discovers what a useless fellow you are.”

  “It seems odd to have a goddaughter I have never laid an eye on,” Lady Hadley said. “I was godmama to my cousin Algernon’s daughter by what they call proxy, since Algernon wanted her to have one English godparent, at least, and it is well he did so, for now, you see ...” She stumbled to a stop to collect her wits and try again.

  “What I mean is, with the Frenchies rampaging through the Peninsula, it is well that Lady Helena has me to come to, or what would happen to her? Algernon is remaining in Spain, and her mama is dead, so, really, I don’t know what the poor child could have done if I had not taken her.”

  “She must have other relatives. Has Algernon no sisters or brothers?” Severn asked.

  “To be sure, my dear, Lancashire is full of them, but how should poor Helena make her bows from Lancashire? She is a great heiress, you must know. Her grandpapa on her mama’s side was a conde, which is a sort of foreign lord, which is why Algernon is remaining in Spain, to try to fight Napoleon’s army and help to save the family fortune. His bride brought him a splendid vineyard as her dowry. Or perhaps he is going to be a spy, or something exciting, for he was the only one of the Carlisles who ever had an ounce of spunk. Fancy his going to Spain in the first place.”

  “Fancy his not knowing enough to come home when war threatened,” Severn murmured. As his mama had not mentioned the plan of marrying Lady Helena, Severn assumed she had not been told of it. Papa never told her anything. He treated her like a child.

  “Have you entered Lady Helena’s name for presentation at court, Mama?” he asked.

  “Ninnyhammer. It was the first thing I did upon reaching London. Cousin Audrey and I have beenas close as inkleweavers all week, preparing for her debut. Cousin Audrey has brought Marion to town again this spring for another try. Poor girl. She is getting a tad long in the tooth, but her uncle Rochester recently left her five thousand, and with her own five thousand, it may be enough to tempt someone into an offer.”

  “I doubt it,” Severn said bluntly.

  “So do I. But in any case, Audrey has offered to help us chaperon Helena. I am getting pretty old to be trotting every evening, but you and Audrey can help me keep an eye on her.”

  This brought a spark of pleasure to Severn’s jaded eyes. He was happy Lady Helena’s friends had not been chosen from his own circle. The Comstocks would steer Lady Helena to concerts of ancient music and dull tea parties, leaving him free for more dashing entertainments.

  “An excellent notion, Mama.”

  “Yes, and Lady Helena will get on with them like a house on fire. She is bound to be a well-behaved girl. I do not look for any mischief in her. She was reared in the strictest circumstances. In fact, she spent considerable time in a convent when the fighting came close to her home. Apparently the convents were safe. Algernon never said so, but I suspect his wife was a papist. Spain is riddled with them,” she confided. “I cannot think why the Court allows it.”

  Severn opened his lips but was daunted by the chore of explaining hundreds of years of history, and closed them again. “She speaks English, doesn’t she?”

  “She does, but she would be accustomed to speaking Spanish in the convent, so I daresay she will be a little shy of English strangers. You must try to bring her out a little, Severn. The poor girl is bound to be ugly. Algernon had a face like a cod’s head, and her mama, you recall, was a foreigner.”

  This was the first time his mama had seen fit to mention the girl’s appearance. Severn felt his interest, which had been tweaked by her romantic background, shrivel. “We must be thankful for the dowry,” he said, and turned to that part of the journal dealing with the race course.

  * * *

  Aboard the Princess Maria, Lady Helena sat tapping her foot and gazing at an ivory miniature of Lord Severn. Its arrival had caused a small spark of interest in this English cousin Papa wished her to marry. He was handsome, but she was not fool enough to fall in love with a picture. Especially if this was how Lord Severn planned to treat her! He ought to have been waiting at the dock with a carriage. She had told Papa frankly she had no intention of having her husband chosen for her. She would go to England—it sounded a pleasant adventure—but if she married, it would be to a man of her own choosing. Papa was not brave, or foolish, enough to command his headstrong daughter.

  Her pride disliked to send to Belgrave Square begging for a carriage. It was not to be thought of. She summoned a servant and asked to have a hansom cab sent to her. Within minutes, she was traveling through London—a poor, shabby sort of place it looked, although it improved greatly when they reached the West End. Still, the red brick house at which the carriage stopped was but a cottage compared to Papa’s Viñedo Paraíso, in Jerez.

  The sound of the door knocker echoed faintly in Lady Hadley’s saloon. “That will be Audrey, I expect,” she said. “She often drops in after shopping.” She waited for the butler to announce Mrs. Comstock. The faint knock was repeated.

  “Sugden has either dozed off or abandoned his post,” Severn scolded.

  “No, it is his bad tooth. He has been dosing himself with oil of cinnamon. I told him he must have the tooth drawn. Take Audrey to my
parlor, Edward. It has a fire laid. I shall ask for fresh tea and meet her there.”

  Severn strode to the front door and threw it open. He found himself staring at a female who looked as if she belonged on the stage, perhaps playing a gypsy. Her raven hair was drawn back under a fashionable bonnet, beneath whose brim a pair of darkly flashing eyes examined him boldly. Her pale face was heart-shaped and pretty. For the rest, he had an impression of an outfit of some strange cut and garish scarlet color.

  “I would like to see Lady Hadley,” the apparition announced, and stepped forward.

  Severn blocked the doorway with his body. His mama was enjoying a surfeit of callers this season, with a deb to be sponsored. This one looked like a modiste, or milliner, or perhaps even a coiffeuse. Stylish but not quite a lady, was his estimate. “Use the back door next time, miss,” he said, “but since you are here, I shall see if Lady Hadley can spare you a moment.”

  Lady Helena came in and turned an imperious eye on him. She had been gazing at a likeness of that arrogant face for the past half hour. She had to find her own way to Belgrave Square, and now this insult! Use the back door. It was not to be borne.

  If he mistook her for a servant, she would return the compliment.

  Without a word, she removed her bonnet and handed it to him. “I am Señorita Helena Consuela Maria Elizabeth Carlisle, idiota. Lady Hadley is expecting me.”

  Severn stared in bewilderment. Her accent was quite pronounced, and as she spoke quickly, he caught only an occasional word. “What?” he asked, blinking.

  “¡Caracoles!” she exclaimed, tossing up her hands. “Your mistress, por favor.”

  “Good God!” he said, staring. What was this talk of his mistress? Was one of his friends playing a joke on him, sending a lightskirt to cause mischief? “Look here, miss,” he said. “You’d best leave at—did you say Carlisle?”

  “But yes. Señorita Carlisle, from España, to see your mistress, Lady Hadley. Bah, no importa, I shall discover her for myself,” she said, and strode briskly down the hall.

  Severn followed behind, carrying her bonnet, with a long black feather tipping over the brim.

  Lady Hadley, curious at the delay, rose and went to the door of her parlor. She saw the vision in red advancing, heard the rattle of a foreign tongue, not French, and looked to Severn for elucidation.

  “She has something to do with Lady Helena, I think,” he said doubtfully. “A companion, perhaps, I wonder if the Princess Maria has arrived.”

  The visitor turned a sharp eye on him. How was it possible he did not know her ship had arrived? All the other important passengers had been met. “You are confused. I am who you call Lady Helena, but I do not call myself so. I am Señorita Carlisle. My ship arrived many hours ago. I have waited and waited, until at last I could wait no longer and hired a carriage to come to you.”

  “You are Algernon Carlisle’s daughter?” Lady Hadley asked, for it seemed entirely unlikely, unless Algernon had married a very beautiful giant. That seemed the sort of thing a man might have mentioned.

  When Lady Helena turned to her godmother, all her anger melted at that welcoming smile. “Ah, sí, I am Papa’s daughter, and you are Lady Hadley?”

  “There is no question of that,” the dame assured her.

  “¡Madrina!” Lady Helena exclaimed, and rushed forward to pitch herself into Lady Hadley’s arms. She towered a good six inches over her godmother, making the exercise a little precarious for the latter. Lady Hadley reeled backward, but Lady Helena steadied her, and with their arms interlocked, they walked toward the main saloon. Lady Hadley knew instinctively that her own small parlor would not do for this amazing lady. Severn followed them, still carrying the bonnet.

  “I am curious why you call me Madrina, when you know my real name,” Lady Hadley said, not in a condemning way, but as one seeking an answer.

  “It means godmama.”

  “Really! Fancy that. I have been a madrina all the while and never knew it.”

  “One feels that ought to have been said in French.” Severn smiled.

  His mama frowned in perplexity. “Then it would not have been Spanish, would it, Edward?”

  “No, it would have been Molière.”

  “Pay no heed to him. He has not been the same since they published his letter to the editor in the Morning Observer,” Lady Hadley said to her guest, and ushered her goddaughter into the Gold Saloon.

  Lady Helena looked around at the opulence of Adam molding and matching marble fireplaces, at paintings by Gainsborough and Canaletto, at Persian carpets and graceful Hepplewhite settees and tables and said, “What a charming little house, Madrina. You must be quite cozy here.”

  Then she removed her pelisse, handed it to Severn with a careless smile, and said, “Gracias,” with a dismissing flutter of her fingers. Severn took the pelisse and looked to the hall for Sugden.

  “Would you please hang it up,” Lady Helena said, patiently, as if he were an idiot, or perhaps deaf.

  “Certainly,” Severn said in momentary confusion, and took it into the hallway.

  Lady Helena feared the butt of her joke was missing the whole point and said, “Is your mayordomo loco, Madrina?” This insult, she trusted, would work its way back to Severn’s ears.

  “I am afraid I don’t speak Spanish, dear. Your papa told me you are quite good at English.”

  “Your serving man—butler?—is he crazy?”

  “Sugden? Oh, no, my dear. He has an inflamed tooth. Where did you get the notion he is mad?”

  “He tried to turn me away from your house. And then he told me I should go to the back door, if you please!”

  “Really? I shall speak to him, depend upon it.”

  “I think you must.”

  Severn returned. “Your mistress has something to say to you, Sugden,” Lady Helena said, with an encouraging look at her godmother.

  Lady Hadley and her son exchanged a confused glance. “This is my son, Edward,” she said to their guest.

  A flame of anger licked at Severn’s breast. A butler! She had mistaken him for a butler! He observed the wisp of a smile Lady Helena could not control, and in an instant, he understood her ploy. She was repaying him for mistaking her for a servant. So the lady thought to retaliate, did she? If it was a duel of wits the lady desired, he felt he could accommodate her.

  Severn performed a competent bow, while allowing his eyes to disparage every stitch on her body. “I pray you forgive my confusion, Lady Helena. We did not expect you to come by yourself. We were waiting to hear your ship had arrived, at which time we planned to thank your traveling companion and deliver you here.”

  “You are the Earl of Severn!” Lady Helena exclaimed. She rose and curtsied daintily, all the while returning Severn’s examination. “The captain and his wife were my chaperons. They are good friends of Papa.”

  In Spain, ladies had very little to say about anything. It had been Lady Helena’s custom to get what she wanted by winding her papa around her fingers. As this had proved so simple and expedient, she saw no reason to change her tactics in England. Lord Severn would rule the roost in this house; thus it was imperative that she bring him to heel. Fortunately, he was stupid. Also, he was not ugly. It was more amusing playing off one’s stunts on a handsome gentleman.

  “You must forgive me,” she said, with a bashful sweep of her long lashes. “Papa did not tell me you were so handsome.”

  Severn, no stranger to ladies’ wiles, knew a flirt when he saw one. When ladies pitched themselves at his head, it was usually in the hope of receiving an offer. Helena had come to England to nab him, but she would not find him an easy victim.

  “How could he, when he has never seen me?” he replied indifferently,

  “We had no idea you would be so pretty either, Lady Helena,” Lady Hadley said. “I was just telling Edward, before you came, that you would probably be as ug—that is, you probably—”

  “Mama thought you might favor your papa,” Severn said.
/>
  “No, I am said to favor the Artolas—my mama’s family,” Helena replied. Then she added mischievously, “Though I ought to have recognized you, Lord Severn, for you somewhat resemble my papa.”

  While she spoke, she noticed Severn’s indifference to her insult. He was not offended, but he was not reacting to her as gentlemen usually did. Was he so slow, he responded to neither compliments nor insults?

  Lady Hadley called for fresh tea, and for the next hour Lady Helena entertained her hosts with a lively description of her life in Spain and her trip. Lady Hadley wondered how it happened that they had not been notified of her ship’s arrival, and after much discussion she decided that the Admiralty had forgotten to notify them. Severn sat like a mute. He had not bothered to speak to the Admiralty. It was the first step of his campaign to resist the marriage his father wanted.

  “The captain told me I should have my trunks removed by tomorrow,” Lady Helena said. “Can you arrange it for me, Lord Severn?”

  “You had best see to it now, Edward,” his mama said. “Helena will want to change for dinner.”

  “Yes, I should think so,” he agreed at once, lifting a black arc of eyebrow at her brilliant gown.

  “Perhaps if you could bring my bandbox with you,” Lady Helena said, maintaining a smile in the teeth of this flagrant provocation.

  Severn left at once, but his departure had more the air of an escape than that of dashing to do her bidding. He would require a little more butter before he was of the desired compliability.

  Helena turned an imploring eye to her hostess. “Would it be possible, Madrina—a bath? The facilities on shipboard were primitive.”

  “I’ll have hot water sent up to your room at once.”

  “Thank you. I shall soak until Severn brings my bandbox.”

  Before leaving the room, she placed a warm kiss on her godmother’s cheek. “It is so very kind of you to have me. I think I am going to be very happy here. I shall try not to be a great nuisance, and if I do anything that displeases you, you must tell me at once. Agreed?”