His Counterfeit Condesa. Joanna Fulford
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the fact that the Condesa is French—and blonde.’
‘Her family’s name was De Courcy. They came from Toulouse but left France during the revolution, just before the Terror, and settled in Asturias where, I understand, the family had lands.’ He paused. ‘Marianne de Courcy married Antonio Ordoñez three years ago.’
‘Was it an arranged marriage?’
‘Yes, though with the consent of both parties apparently.’
‘Children?’
‘A son called Miguel.’
‘And they live retired.’
‘Happily for our purposes, yes. The Conde prefers country life.’
‘All the same, there might be someone at this party who knows him or his wife.’
The grey gaze met hers. ‘Let us hope not, for both our sakes.’ He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and drew out the object that reposed there. ‘Incidentally, you will need this.’
‘What is it?’
‘A small detail, but an important one if our subterfuge is to be believed.’ He held up a gold ring.
She stared at it for a moment and then at him. ‘I had not thought of that.’
‘How should you? It is a husband’s concern, is it not?’
He reached across and took her hand, sliding the ring on her finger. It fitted well, almost as though it belonged there. However, she was not so much aware of the gold band as of the hand holding hers, a strong lean hand whose touch set her pulse racing. It lingered a few seconds longer and then relinquished its hold. He smiled faintly.
‘The adventure begins, my dear, for better or for worse.’
They settled into silence for a while after this, each occupied in private thought. Sabrina’s gaze went to the window but in truth she saw little of the passing countryside. The presence of the wedding band on her finger was a tangible reminder of the role she was expected to play now. It might have been easier if the man opposite had been a less charismatic, less attractive figure. A plainer, duller man might have made it easier to concentrate. She forced her attention back to what she had been told, committing the detail to memory. She couldn’t afford to make a slip. Thus far she had not allowed herself to think too far ahead but now the implications of their mission crowded in, and the dangers it posed to them both.
At noon they stopped to rest the horses and to partake of a light luncheon. The inn was humble but clean and boasted a vine-covered terrace to the rear overlooking the hills. It was a far more appealing prospect than sitting indoors, and Sabrina readily agreed when he suggested they repair thither to eat. It was good to be out of the swaying vehicle for a while, and to have the opportunity to stretch her cramped limbs. While the Major bespoke luncheon, she walked to the end of the terrace and stood for a while looking out towards hills now hazy in the heat that shimmered over rock and scrub. Nothing moved in the stillness save a buzzard circling high on the warm air currents.
‘It is a fine view, is it not?’
She had not heard him approach but a swift glance revealed the tall figure at her shoulder. His closeness was disconcerting so she returned her gaze to the hills.
‘Very fine.’
‘Spain is a beautiful country, at least those parts of it I have seen.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, it is. My father always thought so, too.’
The mention of her father brought unwelcome emotions to the fore and she resolutely changed the subject.
‘The journey has made me hungry. Shall we eat?’
He could hardly miss the hint and smiled faintly. They moved back under the shade of the vines. The meal was simple and unpretentious: tender, home-cured ham, slices of Manchego cheese, green olives, pieces of spicy chorizo, freshly baked bread and a jug of red wine, but Sabrina had no fault to find with it. On the contrary, she ate with enjoyment. The ham was particularly good, almost melting in the mouth.
Falconbridge owned to some surprise, initially wondering if she would turn up her nose at such plain fare. Perhaps the lengthy travels with her father had accustomed her to such things. It pleased him to find it so. This mission would be difficult enough without being saddled with a captious female.
For the most part they ate in silence. When at last they had finished he leaned back in his chair, surveying her keenly.
‘Would you care to walk a little? It may be some time before we get another chance.’
She nodded acquiescence and rose with him. By tacit consent they strolled together towards the arroyo some hundred yards off.
‘I find that I know nothing about you, or almost nothing,’ he said then.
She glanced up at him. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Now that’s a leading question.’
‘I have nothing to hide.’ That wasn’t completely true but she had no intention of mentioning Jack Denton. Anyway it had no bearing on their mission.
‘Then tell me a little about your background, the things that General Ward did not say.’
‘There is not a great deal to tell. My mother was a Frenchwoman whose family fled Paris when the revolution came. She died when I was twelve. Father refused to leave me with relatives and brought me with him to Iberia.’
‘An unusual upbringing for a young woman.’
‘I suppose it must seem that way to other people, though I have never considered it so.’
‘You clearly have a gift for languages.’
‘We spoke both French and English at home so the facility came early. I learned Portuguese and Spanish after my father’s posting to the Peninsula.’
‘I see. Did you never have any formal schooling?’
‘I had a governess when I was little. My father also taught me many things; more perhaps than most young ladies learn.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as learning how to defend myself.’
Recalling their first meeting, Falconbridge smiled. ‘So the sword and pistol weren’t just for show, then?’
‘Hardly.’
‘Have you ever been called upon to use them?’
‘Yes. Father’s work took us to some remote places and once we were attacked by robbers. Fortunately Ramon and Luis were with us and we were able to drive our attackers off, but it’s not an experience I would choose to have again.’
‘I can well believe it,’ he replied. His curiosity mounted. ‘Did you never settle in one place?’
‘No, though there were some fairly lengthy spells in different locations.’
‘Did it not bother you to be always on the move?’
‘Home was wherever we happened to be. So long as Father and I were together I didn’t mind.’
‘His capture must have come as a severe blow.’
‘Yes, it did.’
‘I take it you were not there on that occasion.’
She shook her head. ‘My horse was lame and Father was only going to be away for two or three days. That was four months ago. I have not seen him since.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
Sabrina was struck again by the apparent sincerity in his tone. It was much at variance with the man she had met before.
‘I should have been with him,’ she said. ‘Perhaps then I could have done something to help.’
‘If