by Eliza Lloyd
The servants were nearly invisible in their efficiency, but their responsibilities were many and embraced with the same love Shelene had for Las Colinas.
Once inside her room, she listened for sounds of Tono, but she could only hear the muted noises of her father and Roman. The irresistible attraction of a baby was a new phenomenon for her; she could imagine how both Roman and Papa felt. She went to the washstand and cleaned her face and hands then removed her long apron, ready to be washed again after collecting all the dust that accumulated in her workroom.
At the door between the nursery and her room, she peeked in to see Roman standing tall as a sentinel, watching as Papa played with Tono. He lifted him, pretending to throw him, but keeping a firm grip on his middle. Tono giggled and slobbered and pressed his fist to his mouth. Papa spoke to him in Spanish, which melted her heart a little more.
Shelene’s eyes filled with tears, and she stepped back to her room. Backing against the door, she pressed her hand against her mouth to hold back a sob.
To see Papa again! To see him with his grandson!
And to know Roman was the one who made it possible. She rubbed her eyes. Was it all some dream from which she would wake? She could not let herself feel joy yet. She could not have it all ripped away from her again.
The tap on the door startled her.
“Shelene,” Roman said from the other side.
She opened the door slowly. “Yes. What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t want to get in the way of you and your father’s reunion. I am going to return home now. I won’t be back until tomorrow night, though.”
“What do you want me to say? If you have a home, you should stay there.”
He smiled, his teeth startlingly white against his skin, darkened by his months at sea. “That is all but impossible when I have a wife such as you. In any case, I have myriad responsibilities to attend now that I am back on land. You won’t miss me, will you?”
“As a matter of fact—”
Roman pressed a finger to her lips. “I’ve been gone too long to hear anything but the kindest words. Please save your criticisms until we’ve been together for at least five years so that you see what a truly lazy, irascible husband I am.”
“I’ve made my wishes clear, and I won’t change my mind. Oh, would you let Oliver know that I will visit him this afternoon?” She had made a small stained-glass charm to hang in a window. Roman’s window, it turned out. Oh, well. He could take it home to England if he wanted. Where there was no sun to show its true beauty.
Drat! She should have thought of something more appropriate to thank him for being so faithful to Papa, even to the point of death. To express her joy that he was alive. To just see him, Roman’s brother whom she knew nearly as well as she knew Roman. The Forresters were her second family in more ways than one.
“I will tell him. He will be very happy to see you.”
She walked around him. “Please don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be.”
“We are married. We have a son together. And I love you. That is surely as complex as things can be.”
There was no reasoning with him, no way to win an argument.
“If you are taking a carriage to the hilltop, perhaps I can ride along?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I must see to Antonio first.”
* * * * *
Roman took the reins from Shelene and tapped the horse’s haunch with the lightweight whip. The horse started and the carriage jerked. The road wound along a small brook that still trickled with late spring waters. “The valley is such a beautiful place this time of year. I’ve missed it.”
“You’ve missed it? But not enough to return except once every two or three years?”
“I told you that I would come back to stay.”
“That was when I was sixteen. And I foolishly believed your desire was for me, not because you were in love with our green valleys.”
“There is love. Then there is love,” he said. “I think you know. It’s the difference between te quiero and me encanto esso.”
“Are you trying to tell me how to speak Spanish now?”
“I’ve become much more proficient. Which is going to be very beneficial once my son starts speaking.”
“He will be taught English too.”
“Is our son really safe with your uncle nearby?”
“You invited yourself on my carriage ride. You can at least leave the topics of conversation to me.”
“He hasn’t changed. I want to make sure you know that.”
“As Tono’s mother, I will do everything in my power to protect him, from any threat, real or imagined.”
“Tono? He has a nickname already? Tono. I like it.” The horse started a hard pull up the hill. Roman clucked his tongue again to encourage the beast. “I told your uncle he has thirty days to leave Las Colinas.”
“And you will deal with the consequences of that proclamation?”
“Do you expect him to do something other than pack his bags and depart?”
“Someday I hope—someday you will overcome this obsession.”
He laughed. “You mean the obsession to see that evil people are punished? In your uncle’s case, I could not care less what happens to him, I just don’t want my family to be in the crossfire when he decides he is owed something, and he tries to take it from us.”
“How do you sleep at night, carrying the weight of the English world upon your shoulders?”
“I keep a faca in my boot and a flintlock in my valise. As soon as Antonio can keep a grip, I will teach him how to protect himself too.”
“That is absurd. He will be a child for many more years to come.”
“Only a mother would think her son should be so coddled.”
“How dare you! You don’t know a thing about how I take care of my son. How could you? Off on another of your daring adventures while I take care of things at Las Colinas.”
“Shelene, must we be at odds over every single thing?” She reminded him of the wild Spanish girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago—hair blowing loosely in the wind, spirited, untamable. And now hurt to the quick by his actions.
“I thought you were dead! Do you expect me to so easily accept your return? To upend my life so thoroughly? Not once, but again and again. When you left without me, promising that you would take me. Again, when I am told you are dead? And now? The night before I was to remarry and start a new, peaceful life with a kind man. You expect too much. What love I had for you is gone. I won’t keep you from your son, but I will keep you from hurting me again.”
Roman pulled the reins, stopping the horse in the middle of the road. He jumped out and went to Shelene’s side, reaching for her and hoisting her to the ground.
She squealed. “Unhand me!”
Instead, he leaned into her, gripping one of her wrists and holding it to her side, his other hand at her waist. “Shouldn’t I be the one who is angry? Returning home to find my wife in the arms of another man? A kind one, to be sure. What did he mean to you? Is he the reason you are so disproportionately angry with me? I would think bringing home your father would warrant some leniency, if not complete forgiveness.”
“You bullish, arrogant man. Have consideration for my feelings for a change rather than the King of England’s. I’m sure His Majesty will be thrilled that you have returned one of his decorated commodores to his fleet.”
“Hasn’t he told you? Your father is retiring, just as I am.”
She clenched her jaw and looked away. There were no tears, but he suspected it was force of will which accomplished that.
He softened. “What do you want me to do to make things right?” He caressed the curve at her waist. “I regret that you were hurt by my actions, but I was the only one who might have been able to determine what happened to Oliver and your father. The only one. Was I to shirk my duty? Every day since I reached my majority, I have had to balance honor and dishonor, loyalty and infi
delity. Love and hate. You are the one woman who understands why I do it.”
“Wrong. I pretended to understand, hoping you would one day see something besides your precious—just like Mother hoped Father would come home to stay. And now she’s gone. And there is no time to make amends.”
“But there is for us. We have all the time in the world.”
“There isn’t enough time between us to rebuild the trust you’ve destroyed. I will always respect you, Roman. I know the perils you endured, but the trust is gone and with it my love is diminished.”
“The first time I told you that I loved you—do you remember? It was the night we went riding and the moon was full.”
“I’m glad you remember. I’m glad, and I hope the memory will help you realize what you have missed out on all these years.”
“Oh, I know all right, and I have every intention of making up for lost time.”
“I never knew you to be such an optimist.”
Roman leaned closer. She smelled of the outdoors and the wind and the sun toasting her burnished skin and just a hint of Antonio’s not-so-pleasant baby smells. Oh, the nights he had drifted to sleep thinking of her in his arms again. Very often she was the singular reason he could keep going, knowing that only the truth would allow Shelene and his family to rest in their grief.
Her gaze had turned steely as he bent to press a kiss to her lips. She stayed motionless and let his lips warm hers.
“Was your fiancé such a poor kisser, you’ve grown out of practice?”
She said nothing.
“You did kiss him, didn’t you?”
“If it makes you jealous and opens your eyes, then yes. Often and with enthusiasm.”
“Liar,” he said, and pressed his lips to hers again. It was enough to feel the soft exhalation of her breath. She could not hide her innocence or her susceptibility.
It might take days, or weeks, but he would win out.
“We should go,” she said.
“We should, but I’m perfectly fine doing nothing but being with you.”
“Stop it. You are not a man for poetry and sweet words.”
“That’s correct,” he said, hands at her waist and lifting her to her carriage seat. “I am a man of action. And a man who plans.” He held her hand and kissed the back of it. God, he loved Spain. He loved Shelene in Spain, where she was herself and not a half-English pretender. She rarely wore tightly dressed hairstyles, few bonnets or gloves except during the most formal of occasions, but in one way she defied the customs and traditions of both countries. No one would tell her what she could say or do. Or how. Or when. “Don’t ever change, my beautiful wife. I wouldn’t know what to do with a lesser woman. Shelene, we are not going to be the couple who miss each other their entire lives. Two different directions. Two dreams.”
She pulled her hand away, tears in her eyes. “Don’t,” she said.
They rode up the rest of the winding hill in silence. Roman didn’t mind. With Shelene safe at his side, he could let his mind wonder to the other important issues at hand. He’d taken the time to speak with Shelene’s aunt Ana-María, Francisco’s sister. There was no mistaking the caution and fear in her gaze when Roman asked an innocent question about Belgrano.
He’d also found Brahim, or Brahim had found him, anxious to provide an accounting of his time and his family’s time at Las Colinas. Roman had no doubt that the estate was run with patriarchal perfection in order to please the matriarch. He promised Brahim that in a few days they would pursue all the farming and estate matters, along with the commodore. Brahim wasn’t betraying or criticizing Shelene’s handling of the estate, but he was wise enough to recognize any authority who could disrupt the smooth running of it. Had Belgrano made any demands that Roman should be aware of? Roman suspected that there was only one man on the entire estate who would never betray Shelene or accept some bride or do anything other than keep his word, and that was Brahim. He’d been at the estate since she was a baby, and his family long, long before that.
At the top of the hill, Roman drew the small carriage to a halt. Joaquin met them and took the horse’s bridle. “Señor Forrester, why did you not tell me you were leaving? I would have traveled with you.”
“I just went down the hill. You’re not to worry.”
“But I must. I am your man now,” Joaquin said.
Roman was appreciative of Joaquin’s dedication, and he was going to make it up to the young man. He walked around the carriage and assisted Shelene. “What is all the chatter about?” Shelene asked.
He turned an ear and heard the boisterous noise coming from the back of the house. “I don’t know. Joaquin, would you bring Señora Forrester’s basket, please.”
“Oh, sí!”
“Is that my father’s voice?” Shelene asked.
“Sí, Señora. The commodore arrived about an hour ago.”
“An hour? I didn’t know he’d left.”
Inside, Roman and Shelene followed the happy sounds through the house. “You’ve been here before,” Roman accused, as she led the way.
“Curiosity is a womanly flaw. I had to know what it looked like. When the workers were gone, I rode up to the house twice. Had I known who the owner actually was, I might have taken a different tact.”
“Burning it down?”
She laughed. “No, of course not.”
There were several people gathered on the portico. Five dressed chickens rotated on the spit. Oliver sat beside Mrs. Spencer, Dewey and Rousseau each had a mug of ale, Joaquin hurried in to help. Yes, Commodore Hightower was there, mug in hand and telling tales of daring-do.
“Father Etienne, what are you doing here?” Shelene asked.
“Oh, my dear Señora Forrester.” He jumped up and took her hands. “I was on my return to Arco de la Frontera, and I was impressed with the need to visit my wounded brothers to see if I could provide assistance or prayers.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“There is a matter I would like to discuss with you,” Father Etienne said. “May I?”
“In a moment, Father. I need to greet some friends.”
Roman stared after Shelene as she walked away, thinking he’d made some small progress. When he turned back, his solicitor Herman Fisk, stood there. “Fisk? Is the whole of Spain descending on my home?”
“I did not know you were alive let alone home. I arrived early this morning for Señora Forrester’s wedding to Señor Navarro. I felt an obligation to you and your son to attend, if not for posterity, at least to confirm to your family what had happened. Of course, I arrived to a cacophony of gossip and hysteria, so I came here expecting you to be in residence.”
“We must have just missed each other. It is good to see you, Fisk. I expect we have much to talk about.”
“Well, we might as well enjoy whatever celebration is going on here.”
“By the smell, I would say the chicken is about ready. Sit, Fisk.” They sat on the portico and were served drinks along with a plate of empanadas. But they sat alone. “You look as tired as I feel. I was planning on leaving for Cadiz this afternoon to see you and make a few arrangements,” Roman said.
“Let me guess. Belgrano?”
“What have you heard about this hellish pardon?”
“I’m sure the same wild stories you’ve heard.”
“A king’s pardon? It is too fantastical to believe. Do you have a way to verify? Is there someone you know close to Ferdinand who could confirm such a preposterous thing? Does Ferdinand have no clue at all the opposition Belgrano arranged to take Ferdinand out of the picture and support that weasel Joseph Napoleon? No one believed the Treaty of Valencay would stand, but Ferdinand can’t be supporting former guerillas just to resist France,” Roman said.
“Ah, Spain. A constant boiling pot of turmoil, nationalism and rebellion. Ferdinand is suspicious of everyone. I know people but whether they can find out the truth is another thing.”
“What about with the British Consulate?
Is Wellesley still the ambassador?”
“No, Heytesbury.”
“I don’t know him. He probably knows Adam, though.”
“Well, you are in luck, I know his secretary.”
“What about someone closer to the king’s men who would be privy to a few secrets?”
“I’ll make some inquiries.”
“All right. For now, it will be the plan. I’ll be in Cadiz in a week or so. Stay, though. Enjoy your time and enjoy some drinks. You can stay here tonight and catch some rest. Heaven knows, there’s room for you and a small army. Don’t take anything on face value, Fisk. Something isn’t right.”
Chapter Twelve
“Oliver.” Shelene took his free hand. He stood, wobbly and supported by his crutch. “You look awful, but I am so happy to see you.” She could see Roman in his gaze and in his jaw, but of course, he was a twin to Nicolas and the one time she had seen them together the resemblance had been more than astounding. There was nary a difference. But maybe now there would be: Oliver had aged with his recent survival experience.
He kissed both her cheeks. “You should have seen me four months ago, sister. You have finally bagged your prize.” He wagged his brows toward Roman. “But are you sure he is worth keeping?”
“He’s made his own bed.”
“Still the iron-willed Shelene.”
“Would you expect me to be any other way?”
“No, not and be married to Roman. Congratulations on your son. Another nephew for me. I will have to see him soon.”
“I will bring him up. There is no need to hobble down to Las Colinas.”
“My nurse says it is good for me. Let me introduce you. Mrs. Spencer, my sister-in-law, Mrs. Forrester. But she’ll want you to call her Shelene.”
Mrs. Spencer answered a few questions but withdrew from the conversation quickly and returned to her needlework. Shelene noticed the woman’s frequent covert glances toward Oliver. Was it out of concern or because of another more personal reason?
