His brow creased and his frown deepened. “Not precisely. It is a rather personal matter.”
“Oh.” Chastised, she cast her eyes down to her folded hands.
“I did not mean that you may not ask, Georgie. It is no state secret! Only that I dare not reveal my errand until I have something to reveal. I will happily inform you once my questions are answered. I am sorry I cannot say more, but that will have to do for now.”
She sniffed a little, then nodded. “Yes, Richard.”
“Good girl.” He smiled, then chucked her chin, as he had used to do when they were much younger. “Then it is back to London with us.”
Chapter twelve
Porto, Portugal
MariaAmáliaVasconceloshadlong been in the habit of waking early. Every morning since she had left the nursery behind, she had risen promptly from her bed, pulled a silken robe about her body, and spent long spells leaning out over the balcony of her home, mesmerised by the diamond flecks on the massive Douro river. It was not the sea, as she wished, but if she closed her eyes, she could imagine that it was.
There was a thrilling power and a calming peace there—both life-giving sustenance and the awesome capacity to destroy, simmering together under the hand of the wise Almighty. She clasped her garment tightly round herself, relishing the feel of the rising sun on her shoulders and the cool breeze drifting through her unfettered hair.
She had always preferred the out-of-doors to the confines of her station. In her days of maidenhood, she had been fond of long walks in her father’s modest pleasure garden, or down to the walks along the river. Many a gloved hand in social circles had concealed whispered disapproval of her independent habits, but even her father’s mild censure had not checked her. Perhaps she had been spoiled, but her delights had been her own, sacred from any interference, until—
“Darling! There you are, my precious.”
She could not repress a sigh, but she did so before turning away from her view. “Miguel,” she smiled. “Good morning, my husband.”
He drew near, holding out a hand for her to accept. “You grow lovelier each morning, my flower.”
She took his hand, her breath coiled tightly within her breast. When had she ever granted Miguel the privilege of using that endearment? The glittering spark cast by the adorned hand he clasped drew her eye, even as she groused inwardly over his presumption. Apparently, Miguel considered that marriage had accorded him privilege enough to call her what he liked.
He bowed low over her hand now, kissing her fingers as a bold lover who still wooed his lady. “I have been concerned for you, my dear,” he crooned. “You have been too often unwell of late.”
She lifted her shoulders airily. “It is nothing of any concern. I am only fatigued by the evenings, and my head pains me.”
He tilted a half-smiling gaze down to her. “Is that all it is, my dear? I had feared that you were discontented. As a matter of fact, I have set aside the whole of the day to spend with you, for your happiness is near to my heart.”
Her mechanical smile fell. “Oh! Forgive me, Miguel, but I had promised to pay a few calls this morning with your step-mother.”
“Surely that may be postponed. Can you not make other arrangements so that I may enjoy my wife this day?”
She slipped her hand from his. “I am afraid not, my husband. As your father has reminded me, I bear a most important role now as his daughter-in-law. It would be bad form, indeed, should I beg off my scheduled appointments. Think how poorly it might reflect on yourmadrasta!”
He lifted his hands, tipping his head in acquiescence. “You are quite right, my dear. Pay your calls to the society ladies, and then I shall claim you for the whole of the afternoon.” He leaned close to nuzzle a kiss to her cheek, then down to her neck.
Amália stiffened reflexively, even as she attempted to receive his advances without shuddering.What is it about Miguel…?“Did Ruy not intend to take tea with us this afternoon?” she added quickly. “I thought you had all manner of questions for him about matters at the royal court in Brasil.”
He drew back, his lips tight and his smile forced. “You tempt me so, my dear, that I had nearly forgotten. Yes, of course. Pray, do not tire yourself overmuch today. I have seen far too little of you, and I do intend to keep you to myself this evening.”
Her stomach clenched.You cannot put him off forever,she scolded herself. After all, the manwasher husband, and she was bound to him for life. Perhaps a little friendliness was not out of line. She lifted a cheerful smile to him. “And what shall you do with yourself this morning while I am out?”
“I believe my father had some business here at the house. Perhaps I shall attend him.”
“Then I shall see you at tea with Ruy. And now, if you will pardon me, I think I must begin my toilette if I am to dress properly for my outing.”
He stepped back a pace, relenting. “You are breathtaking as you are, my flower, but by all means, conceal your beauty beneath more modest attire, for I am jealous that none but myself might admire your full loveliness.”
“You pay your compliments a little too artfully, my husband,” she blushed uncomfortably.
“Do you not deserve them?” He raised her hand to kiss once more, lingering cloyingly over her fingers. “Please do not delay too long in returning to me, for I fear I cannot breathe when you are not near.”
She arched a brow, helpless to resist at least one dry comment. “My visiting mornings are always of the same duration. I trust you will take care not to expire while I am out.”
