"Hum?" Anne shaded her eyes, waiting to catch the last glimpse of Mr. Fontes’s coat when he took the road to the village.
Tony placed his hand over his chest. "I've changed my mind. I want to be a soldier."
An enormous sigh escaped her chest, and she smiled dreamily. Anne would rather marry one...
Tony eyed her askance. "Are you really all right?"
"Really, really," she said, kissing her crossed fingertips.
"If that is the case, then...Tchau tchau!" He spun, racing so fast his heels touched his bottom.
Laughing, Anne picked up her skirts and gave chase. "Come back here, you rascal!"
Chapter 2
Cavalry Academy, Mafra Palace
Pedrotuggedtherightrein and pressed his left heel to Erebus’s flank, and the stallion leaped from a contained walk to a brisk gallop. Pedro allowed the horse freedom of the arena. When it no longer felt as if Erebus was trying to demolish the ground with his hooves, Pedro turned him into a wide circle, reducing its diameter until Erebus cantered.
After the stallion spent his explosive energy, Pedro led him through his dressage training. No Lusitano in Lisbon, or even Portugal, could passage, pirouette, and piaffe like Erebus, and the horse well knew it. When they finished the side canter, Pedro halted and tapped the horse’s neck, praising the effort.
Cris opened the gate and stepped inside the arena, a stripped coat flung over his shoulder, the high points of his starched shirt stark white against his tanned neck. They shared the duke's blood, but few believed them to be brothers. Pedro had his mother's fair skin and blond hair. Cris’s coloring was dark, with black hair and olive complexion, like their father's. His clear green eyes contrasted with Pedro's cynical brown ones, and, in battle, Cris counted on brawn while Pedro preferred cunning.
By his dishevelment and day-old stubble, Cris had spent another night indulging Lisbon's demimonde. "You drew quite a crowd today. You should consider the poor troopers' sleep and exercise Erebus later. Must you rise in this ungodly hour?"
Pedro glanced at the raised dais erected for watchers. Cavalry recruits filled the benches and crowded the hill behind the arena. "If they wish to learn, they will adapt to my schedule." Pedro jerked his chin at a brown parcel Cris carried under his arm. "What's that?"
"Package for the Count of Almoster. The Duke of Braganza's valet delivered it last night."
Like a circus performer, Cris balanced the volume on his finger and took a careless step closer. Bullet quick, Erebus flattened his ear and bit Cris’s shoulder.
Cris jumped, cursing like a conscripted sailor. "Jesus! Shoot this savage before he commits murder."
Pedro's hand went protectively to the old wound on Erebus’s neck, below his mane. The shrapnel, shot point-blank by the Austrian artillery, would have pierced Pedro's chest if Erebus had not reared mid-charge, taking it in his stead. "If I shoot every grumbler in Lisbon, the queues would be longer than the guillotine's during the French Revolution."
Keeping a safe distance from Erebus this time, Cris threw the package. Arm lifted, Pedro caught it before it could sail over his head.
Pedro unraveled the twine and oiled paper, revealing Fernando’s worn book.The Infinite Love of Dom Pedro and Inês.Fernando never outgrew his obsession with Portugal's most famous love story. Why send this now?
Memories from Mozambique resurfaced, but Pedro pushed them back to the hole they belonged, concentrating instead on Fernando's hasty scrawling.
'Take my Inês to the Douro with you. I've made a discovery that will shock even a cynic like yourself. Ever yours, Braganza.'
Pedro frowned at the cryptic words, hoping Fernando didn't mean to pull him into his missions at the colonies again. While the officers who returned from East Africa strove to forget, Fernando kept attaching himself to Mozambique's problems.
"What does he want?" Cris asked.
"Nothing." Pedro stored the book inside his coat. "Have you brought your luggage to the yacht? We'll leave at first tide."
Cris clucked his tongue. "Why don't we enjoy the summer elsewhere? I've heard French modistes brewed a bathing suit that reveals juicy tidbits of ladies' arms and legs. Think about it—a few weeks in Dieppe and then Paris. We'll attend theBouffes-Parisiens, theball publiques... Just like when you were the ambassador to France. That was living! What's in the Douro? A year since we set foot in the north, and well—"
"The king will be there."
Cris pawed his hair out of his forehead. "I saw Carmen yesterday. Imagine my surprise when, after some pretty tears, she told me she would not sail with us to the Douro."
"She spoke the truth." Except for the tears. She left their arrangement a rich woman. Unlike the wide-eyed court ladies who cloaked themselves in laces and frigid dispositions, Carmen enjoyed his unique demands with abandon. Still, Pedro's plans had no place for a kept mistress.
Cris whistled and nodded several times. "Gone were the days when I received such news from my older brother. Now I have to scramble for gossip like the rest of the rabble."
