“He lied to me more than once. In fact, I am not so certain the man ever spoke a word of truth! Here, Lizzy, give it a go.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, glancing askance at the lumpy pillow—now made somewhat softer for Lydia’s abuse. She blinked rapidly, catching her breath. Her hesitation spoke well of her feminine delicacy, but Elizabeth knew something of men’s fighting from watching the young stable hands roughhousing in the yard. She curled her fingers, tucking her thumb securely over the top, and drew back her fist as far as it would go.
“This,” she clenched and unclenched her fist, “this… this is for—for wronging the very best of men!” She lashed out with every drop of her pent-up fury, thrusting so hard that the pillow proved insufficient to deaden the force of her blow, and she stumbled against her bed. She caught herself, panting with wide eyes.
Lydia stood back, her arms crossed and her brows arched sharply. “Well… that looked satisfying. Again?”
Elizabeth nodded, gasping. “Yes, indeed!”
Porto, Portugal
AntónioMonizdeNoronhawas a man who felt every reason for pleasure this evening. Word from France brought glad tidings of another Allied victory at Nivelle, his son Captain Rodrigo de Noronha—known to most as Ruy—had returned that very day from Brasil, and his house was full of dinner guests to celebrate.
Noronha now entered the hall, flanked by Ruy dressed in his browncaçadoruniform. Such a mark of distinction! How proud was this moment. If only his adored Maria Constança could see her son, a man grown—and such a strapping lad! Three years serving with the English soldiers in the elite Light Brigade and nearly two as a special aide at the Prince Regent’s court in Brasil had sharpened his training and honed his mind until now he was a clever and thoroughly modern-thinking young man. An able administrator and a resourceful strategist would he be—perfect for the niche his father had designed for him once the war had ended.
“Is Amália to come tonight?” Ruy wondered as they surveyed the guests. “I do not see her, but there is Miguel Vasconcelos.”
“There he is, indeed! But he appears to be alone.”
“I do hope she has come, for I have not yet congratulated her on her marriage. Think of it; my little sister wed to the governor’s son!”
“Of course, she came. She has been longing to see you.”
Ruy continued searching the faces in the room, noting that ladies in general made up a distinctive minority. “Perhaps it is only the very dullest of us who linger still in the hall. The most interesting company must be found already dancing. I wonder that Miguel has not joined his wife.”
Noronha made some noncommittal noise in his throat as the very young man they discussed approached, a drink in his hand. “Miguel!” he greeted his son-in-law warmly. “Where is your father, the old devil? He promised he would be in attendance.”
“I believe he shall, senhor,” the younger man glanced about. “He was to ride with Senhor Corte-Real, but I fancy it is mymadrasta, not the old priest, who causes the delay. Captain!” Miguel quickly greeted his brother-in-law, “I am glad to see you safely returned. How did you find the voyage from Brasil?”
Ruy made a quick bow. “Tedious and wet and far too long for my taste. I also am glad to be home, and I find I have a brother! May I wish you every joy with my dear sister.”
Miguel’s forehead rose. “I am grateful, I am sure.”
“Where is Amália? Did she come with you?”
Miguel looked vaguely about. “She is here somewhere. Like as not she is talking to some of the other ladies, or perhaps she is already on the dance floor.”
“A man with such a prize ought to guard her more carefully!” Ruy laughed. “Another may come to take your place, my friend.”
“If I took your advice, my wife should tire of me rather quickly. She seems to amuse herself better in feminine company.”
Ruy’s easy smile cooled slightly as he caught the nuances laced beneath the other’s speech. He glanced to his father for confirmation, but Noronha’s careful mask revealed nothing. “Well,” he straightened, “I think I shall try to interrupt her happiness all the same. It has been nearly two years since last I saw my sister. Father,” Ruy dipped his head respectfully as he went away.
Miguel glanced down to his drink, and soon Noronha was likewise suited with a refreshment as the servers passed. The two men remained in seemingly companionable quiet as they tipped their glasses, both casting watchful eyes about the room. At last, it was Miguel who broke the silence.
“He does not know yet, does he?”
“Ruy? What does he not know?” Noronha groused obtusely. “About your marriage to Maria Amália?”
Miguel’s eyes hardened. “Amália is none of his concern. She appreciates the advantages I have brought her, and Ruy will naturally do the same. I speak of the ore mine in Braga. Have you told him of our efforts to reclaim it?”
Noronha swirled his drink. “He has only returned today. No, he knows nothing of it, but if matters in Rio de Janeiro are as he says, we must not delay. Our exiled Prince Regent thinks of Brasil as quite his own home now, and it is to be feared that we shall remain a colony of that state if the war should continue.”
“It will not continue! The English general has pushed the Corsican nearly to Paris. We shall not see him on our lands again, and the Spaniards are softening as well.”
“Our best hope,” sighed Noronha, “is a complete severance with Brasil. She shall never again hold us her liege, but we may well be obliged to continue giving her homage. If we are to rebuild any sort of economy after Napoleon is defeated and the English leave our shores, wemustbecome a nation of industry, as England has done.”
“And factories must be built of iron before they may return the firstreal,” Miguel smiled. “You needn’t persuade me, senhor, for my father has already done that work for you.”
