The Arrogant Duke Read online

  'Not in so many words perhaps, but it's there. I know it is. Besides, Estelle has all her plans made. You must know that!'

  'Yes. I know what Estelle wants.' Teresa screwed her handkerchief into a ball. 'What about you? What do you want?'

  Juliet felt her cheeks burn. 'What do you mean?'

  'Felipe warned me not to say anything to you, but that day we were in Barbados, he went back to the Club to find out who it was you were meeting.'

  That explained Teresa's uncharacteristic silence on the journey home from Bridgetown.

  'Yes, he told me,' Juliet said now.

  'He didn't tell me the man's name, but I know he had him investigated. I expect he got the report this morning.'

  That explained the delay, thought Juliet wryly.

  'I see,' she said, biting her lips. 'Your - your uncle seems to imagine he is a kind of - what we would call in England — sugar-daddy!'

  'Sugar-daddy?' Teresa's eyes were wide. 'What is that?'

  'Oh, well, it's a kind of older man who - well, takes care of a younger woman.'

  'You mean my uncle thinks you are this man's mistress?' Teresa could be staggeringly adult at times.

  'Well - yes.'

  'And is he?'

  'No!' Juliet was vehement. 'No, he - he's well, he's a relation.'

  'Did you tell my uncle that?'

  'No.' Juliet sighed. 'Oh, heavens, Teresa, this is getting us nowhere. Do you believe me when I say that your uncle was not to blame for this morning's fiasco?'

  'I suppose I do.' Teresa bent her head. 'You know I love Felipe. I always will love Felipe.'

  Juliet halted in front of her. 'Yes, I know that, Teresa.'

  'Does my uncle know?'

  'Yes.'

  'But he does not love me!' Teresa's eyes were tortured.

  'Oh, Teresa, of course he loves you! But not as a man loves the woman who is going to be his wife!' Juliet turned away. 'That's an entirely different thing.'

  Teresa was silent for a while and then she said, 'I used to think love was - well, kindness, and tenderness, and affection. That's what love is, to me. When Felipe spoke to me, I felt that warmth and affection. When - when he speaks to you, he doesn't use the same tone. He sometimes seems to hate you—'

  'I'm sure he does!' muttered Juliet bitterly, leaning against the window frame.

  'I don't think he hates you,' said Teresa, with emphasis. 'I don't think he hates you at all. And today—'

  'I've told you - forget what happened today,' exclaimed Juliet, swinging round.

  'I can't. Oh, I couldn't forget that? Could you? The way he was holding you - the way he was kissing you! It was - it was - a kind of revelation. I - I don't think I would like it if Felipe treated me like that!'

  Juliet stared at her. 'Are you serious?'

  Teresa nodded slowly. 'I - I think so. And - and that day when we saw you with that man - that man in Barbados. He was old enough to be your father, much older than Felipe of course, but then you're older than me, and I thought - oh, senhorita, I thought, that could be me, in years to come, if I married Felipe. He would be old - and I would still be young!'

  Juliet felt an immense sensation of relief overtaking all other emotions suddenly, and momentarily.

  'Do you realize what you are saying, Teresa?'

  'Of course I realize it.' Teresa looked tremulously up at Juliet. 'In fact, I think I've known it for a very long time. Oh, I was jealous, I still am, a bit, of Felipe spending a long time with somebody else, but I think if I had other friends - other things to do, I could stand it.'

  Juliet wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. If nothing else had come out of this sorry mess, at least Teresa had realized that her feelings towards Felipe could never remain the most important thing in her life. Maybe now those useless limbs would regain the power to be used again.

  She stared at the girl, her own emotions spilling over, as tears provided their own relief. Then with an exclamation she went down beside the chair, and hugged Teresa closely.

  Teresa looked in surprise at Juliet's tears. 'What is the matter? I thought you'd be pleased,' she said. 'I know Estelle will be.' This last was said with just a trace of bitterness.

  At the mention of Estelle's name, Juliet felt her newfound happiness evaporate. Releasing Teresa she rose to her feet again.

  'So maybe now we can make real progress with those legs of yours,' she said, with a forcedly light tone.

  Teresa was still eyeing her strangely, but she smilingly agreed. Juliet rubbed her eyes dry, and endeavoured to recover her lost composure.

  'It - it's getting late,' she said unsteadily. 'I must go and get washed before lunch. Where - where is Francisco?'

  Teresa shrugged. 'He left. I don't think Felipe's welcome was particularly enthusiastic, do you? Anyway, he seemed to take the hint. I don't know why Felipe doesn't like him. I always thought he did.'

  Juliet shrugged and walked to the door.

  'So you'll be all right now?' she said, needing that reassurance.

  Teresa nodded. 'Of course. I'll be fine. Just don't expect me to fall over myself with excitement when Felipe and Estelle announce their betrothal.'

  Juliet half-smiled, and left the room. Then she made her way swiftly to her room, praying she would encounter nobody on the way. She didn't, and in the seclusion of her room, the forced brightness left her face, arid she felt completely haggard.

  She walked to the mirror, surveying her drawn features critically. Well, she said to her reflection, what now?

  Then she turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth. Teresa was cured, or at least, well on the way to being so. Now, the tables were turned, and she was the loser. And what would the Duque do now? He could dismiss her, of course, although maybe if Teresa wanted her, she would be allowed to stay.

  But could she stay? That was more to the point. The Duque despised her for what he thought she was, and without revealing her identity she could not tell him the truth. And if she told him the truth, she would very likely be dismissed out of hand. The Duque would consider she had only taken the job for kicks, to provide a poor little rich girl with some new conversation. He would never believe she wanted the job as desperately as any other girl without employment.

  A glance at her watch confirmed that it was almost lunchtime. The thought of food nauseated her, and yet she must pretend, to Teresa at least, that everything was going to go on as before.

  She washed, cleaned her teeth, combed order back into hair mussed by the Duque's urgent, compelling fingers, and descended the staircase.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THERE was a guest for lunch, Estelle Vinceiro.

  Juliet seated herself, hoping no one would take any notice of her. The Duque, apart from glancing once in her direction, ignored her, and Teresa seemed to be aware that Juliet did not want irresponsible chatter.

  Juliet picked at her meal, endeavouring to eat a little to fill the empty void of her stomach, and became conscious of the fact that Senhora Vinceiro's gaze was frequently cast in her direction, with a strange malevolence in its depth.

  Juliet couldn't understand why Estelle should look at her so strangely, unless - her heart somersaulted at the thought - unless the Duque had amused himself by telling Estelle of their contretemps that morning. She felt the blood drain out of her cheeks at the thought. Surely even the Duque could not be so cruel. And yet she had had an example of his cruelty this morning, and she had been forced to wear a light cardigan over her dress to hide the tell-tale bruises the Duque's hard fingers had inflicted.

  But to imagine him telling Estelle how she, Juliet, had practically thrown herself at his head, allowing him to kiss her in a way that no decent Portuguese woman would allow, was a destroying thought. And yet for what other reason could Estelle have grown to despise her, and it was contempt that she read in Estelle's eyes.

  When the meal was over and Teresa had gone for her rest, accompanied by a rather smug-looking Nurse Madison, the Duque excused himself to Est
elle and left the room, a few minutes later disappearing in the direction of the stables. Juliet, engrossed with her own thoughts, had hardly been aware of the others leaving, and when she realized she was alone with Estelle she rose too, eager to escape the older woman's prying eyes.

  But Estelle walked to the dining-room door, and closed it, leaning back against it, preventing Juliet's escape. Juliet looked in the direction of the french doors on to the terrace, but Estelle shook her head.

  'There is nowhere you can hide on Venterra that I will not eventually find you, Senhorita Summers,' she said, slowly and coldly. 'There are things to be said between us that must be said, and afterwards you will be at liberty to leave not only the quinta but the island!'

  Juliet felt very tired. It had been a tiring day, and she felt rather like a marathon runner must feel after a particularly gruelling race.

  'What is it, senhora?' she asked wearily. 'I am very tired. The heat. …' She allowed the sentence to melt into the air.

  Estelle's delicate features were contorted. 'How dare you stand there, senhorita, asking me why I want to speak to you! You know exactly why I want to speak to you! Did you imagine your foolishness with the Duque would remain confidential?' she sneered as Juliet whitened. 'Poor Rosemary! Did you really imagine Felipe would keep such an amusing, pitiful experience to himself?'

  Juliet sank down on to a chair, pressing the palms of her hands against her cheeks.

  'You mean he has told you?' she said exhaustedly.

  'Naturally! Good lord, I am his fiancee, or had you forgotten? Maybe you hoped he had forgotten also!' Estelle paced towards her, surveying her without compassion. 'I believe I once warned you, senhorita, Felipe is very attractive. And I suppose as a man he has all the normal reactions to promiscuity!'

  'I am not promiscuous!' exclaimed Juliet.

  'Then what would you call it? Oh, I admit, you've been rather cleverer than Laura Weston, and your method of attack has been more subtle, but fundamentally you both suffer from the same delusions! Winning Teresa's confidence, and ultimately her friendship, was particularly brilliant. I hardly believed anyone could do that. But now I hear that Teresa has even realized the futility of loving a man like Felipe, a man moreover who is far too old for her. You've done your job well. I suppose I ought to thank you. You, at least, have paved the sure way to my marriage to Felipe.'

  Juliet-stared at her. 'How do you know about Teresa - and - and the Duque?'

  Estelle shrugged. 'Your conversation with Teresa took place in Teresa's sitting-room, did it not? Did you not wonder where Nurse Madison might be?'

  'You mean she eavesdropped?' Juliet felt slightly sickened.

  'Yes. She was in the bedroom. She and I have never been what you would call - er - friends. However, she does have one weakness - money! When it became apparent that your friendship with Teresa was undermining her position here, she was quite willing to perform small services for me for a consideration!'

  'Oh, you're despicable!' exclaimed Juliet, shaking her head. 'How can you cheat and connive without any thought for anyone but yourself? I don't believe you love Felipe! All you want is to be mistress of the quintal'

  Estelle gave a light laugh. 'Love! What is love? I doubt very much whether you know, Senhorita Summers. If you mean the romantic attachment of the male for the female, then that can swiftly be assuaged by physical union!'

  Juliet got to her feet on legs that felt like jelly. 'You're mistaking sex for love,' she exclaimed harshly. 'OH, sex comes into it, but love is not something to be tossed about so lightly, to be laughed about. Love is a destructive powerful force, more powerful than you'll ever know!' Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She would not break down before this cold, unfeeling, selfish woman.

  But Estelle did not notice. Instead she said: 'It seems I was right though, senhorita, doesn't it? You do imagine yourself in love with the Duque!'

  Juliet clenched her fists. 'My feelings are nothing to do with you - or the Duque! My job was -is to care for Teresa!'

  And you intend to carry on with it now, knowing that the Duque is aware of your adolescent passion for him?' Estelle was mocking.

  Juliet stiffened. Until Estelle actually voiced the words, the whole pathetic state of her position had remained in embryo. Now, with those few words, she had created a picture of Juliet's life here, if she continued as Teresa's companion. She would be living constantly in the shadow of her own humiliation, and even the prospect of her father's domination seemed paltry by comparison.

  Estelle seemed to sense her thoughts, for she said: 'Poor little Rosemary! You've succeeded in curing Teresa, only to catch the disease yourself!'

  Juliet shook her head blindly, unable to speak coherently. Estelle had moved away from the door, and she brushed past the older woman, throwing open the door and hastening up the stairs to her room. Once there the tears would not be checked, and all the misery she had experienced that day enveloped her in its shadow.

  But she was not by nature a self-pitying girl, and soon she dried her eyes, and sitting down on the edge of her bed, she began to think seriously of leaving. To run away was an admission of defeat, but it didn't seem to matter any more.

  Teresa, her first and most important responsibility, no longer really needed her. She had restored the girl's confidence, all that was needed now was time and patience, two qualities any nurse must possess. Even Nurse Madison could no longer prevent the inevitable.

  Teresa had a taste for life, for youthfulness, again. She would be all right.

  The Duque; well, the Duque would be glad to be rid of her. By staying she would cause him unnecessary embarrassment, and besides, her own self-respect would not allow her to stay knowing with what amusement he regarded her. What disturbed her most about him was his innate sense of duty, and he might insist that she had applied for this position, and that therefore she should offer some concrete explanation for her abrupt departure.

  That being so, there was only one solution left to her. She must leave without his knowledge. She had no doubt if she appealed to Estelle Vinceiro for help she would get it, but she had no wish to have any further dealings with her.

  No! This was something she must do alone. She chewed desperately at her lower lip. But how? She could hardly order the hydroplane without the Duque's knowledge, and their isolation here did not aid any attempts at a secret departure.

  Then a thought struck her. The day, that first disturbing day, when the Duque had taken herself and Teresa to Lauganca Bay he had stopped in the village to see about supplies which were coming in on the island steamer. She remembered then that Consuelo had mentioned the island steamer, telling her that it was the way the islanders visited St. Lucia and St. Vincent. If she could take this island steamer, she could easily pick up a charter flight from either of the larger islands. Money was no 'problem. Even in the Car-ibbean, the name of Robert Lindsay carried plenty of weight. Once back in London, she could write at length to Teresa, explaining her actions, and possibly asking her to visit her there. After all, she had grown quite fond of Teresa, and through her she would at least hear a little about the Duque, even if such news would be bitter-sweet.

  But the island steamer only visited the island twice weekly, and tomorrow was one of those days. That gave her little time to plan any kind of subterfuge. She sighed. Was it really only five or six weeks ago that she had been planning her escape from London, only now to find herself planning an almost identical journey home? Rosemary would think she was completely crazy, and her father - well, her father would feel very pleased that he had won, even if only indirectly.

  When the time for evening dinner came round, she sent a message with one of the maids, excusing herself on the pretext that she had a headache. The ache in her head was real enough, but actually she needed time to think, and to pack, and she had no desire to meet the Duque again before her departure. Those piercing dark eyes might penetrate her inmost thoughts and discover the guilty plans she was making.

 
; It would be impossible, of course, to take all her luggage. An overnight change of clothes thrust into her basket-bag would have to suffice. When she left the quinta the following afternoon she wanted no one to suspect that she was bent on anything but a shopping expedition. Such a pastime was not unknown to her, and Miguel would get a car for her as he always did, without any reason for suspecting her destination.

  As though to aid her plans, the next morning, the Duque did not appear at breakfast. Teresa explained that during the night there had been a fire in the cajie fields, and although the fire had been extinguished, the Duque would be out all day inspecting the damage.

  She studied Juliet's pale cheeks with some anxiety, seeing the dark rings that sleeplessness had circled round her eyes.

  'What's wrong?' she asked, frowning. 'Are you anxious about what happened yesterday? I'm sure you have no reason to be.'

  Juliet wondered on what she based the essence of that remark. 'It's nothing,' she denied, attempting a light tone. 'I admit I slept badly, but that's all. I - well, I haven't felt too well this morning. I thought perhaps we might spend a lazy day. I think I'll adopt the habit of siesta in the afternoons, too.' She managed a short laugh.

  Teresa was not convinced, but forbore to say any more, respecting Juliet's silence. Juliet was glad. She couldn't have borne a long argument about her health. It would improve, once she had got the Duque de Castro out of her system.

  Only the certain knowledge that she would never get the Duque de Castro out of her system mocked her tremulous thoughts.

  After lunch, she pretended to be going to take the siesta as she had told Teresa, but after the young girl was settled in her room, Juliet came back downstairs, carrying her basket-bag and handbag, dressed casually enough in slim-fitting dark blue pants and a loose white overblouse. The jacket that matched the pants was over her arm. It might be considerably cooler when she landed in London.

  Miguel brought out the shooting brake for her, smiling at her in his usual admiring way. He looked up at the sun, and said: