Cris shook his head and whirled, a frown creasing his brow. "Just like that."
"Call it a gift. A prize for your long-time loyalty."
Cris flinched as if struck. "So now my loyalty has a price?"
"Call it what you may."
Cris nodded several times, then he ambled to the exit. He opened the French doors and leaned on the threshold. Through the blue glass, the light fluctuated as if his brother were underwater. The house would be quiet without his boisterous laughs and lewd jokes. The heavy silence fell on Pedro's shoulders, and the days ahead loomed with no sounds other than the ones inside his head.
Pedro ignored the ache in his chest. His brother would be better off without him. "I am glad you understood."
Cris turned, and their eyes locked. A mischievous grin lit his face. "I am due for the madam's house. The girls are missing me. But fear not, I will be back before dawn. Perhaps I'll send you some entertainment."
Pedro groaned. "Don't."
Chapter 4
Throughherbedroomwindow,Anne could almost taste the river. But today, instead of gazing at the placid green depths of the Douro, her eyes kept straying to the courtyard. If she craned her neck just so, she would see any visitor before he knocked at the front door.
"Interesting book?"
Anne jumped from the chair and dropped the leather volume on the sheepskin rug. "Flor, you startled me."
The maid laughed, the sound lazy and warm, and sashayed inside. She was the typical Portuguese woman with luminous olive skin and abundant brown hair. Whistling a soft tune, she placed a tea tray on the vanity. "You can sweeten it. Wentworth ordered beat sugar after your sermon."
"How thoughtful of him." Brazil kept exploiting slaves in their plantations. The least Anne could do was avoid their goods.
Anne rolled the sugar cube in her fingers, her gaze straying to the front gate.
"Your officer won't come today. This is a small village. He must know your brother left for Regua city."
Anne hid behind the book, a smile stealing to her lips. "Who?"
"Child, when you take the corn to the mill, I am already coming back with the cake. Here, the post boy delivered this to you."
Anne opened the perfumed paper and admired the precise handwriting. Mr. Gabriel invited her to meet him in the square tomorrow. Anne perked up, but then deflated. "Do you think my brother would approve a courtship?"
After her father took his own... after he went away when she was six, Griffin had assumed his place with the determination of a thoroughbred. She was grateful for it…most of the time.
"Is this officer rich?"
"How can you say these things?"
"Oh, I forget wealthy people consider it rude to speak about money. Come, let's do this hair of yours."
Anne held her skirts and plopped on the chair behind the vanity.
"Mr. Maxwell means well." Flor took a brush from her apron and combed Anne's flowing blond strands.
"If he scares all the suitors, how can I find my soul mate?"
Flor stopped brushing. Through the mirror, Anne saw her brown eyes dimming.
"What is it?"
Flor sniffed and shook her head. "Love isn’t the stuff of fairy tales, where people are perfect and do all the right things. Love is messy, primal, and flawed. It wants to control and be controlled. It takes effort and maturity, Aninha."
Poor Flor. Anne learned from a rushed conversation the maid had suffered a terrible disillusion. But Anne wouldn't follow the same path.
