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“The little dear only wants me for one thing. Ah, to be used so.” Shelene hurried to his room, next to hers. “My darling Tono, did you miss me?” She swept up little Antonio, who beat an insistent drum and that was to be at his mother’s breast at every opportunity. Shelene lifted him in the air, and he kicked his feet while he attempted to stuff his fist in his mouth. A sure sign he was happy to see her. She cradled him in her arms and smelled him. He’d had his bath and smelled like an afternoon in the hills, covered in sunshine and fresh air. “Are you ready for bed, darling?”
He grunted, wanting what he wanted more than he wanted to be alone in his crib. She took a seat in the padded rocking chair.
“I know. I know I am late, but we have such a large party tonight. And everyone surely wants to see you, my handsome boy, but you need your dinner then your bed. And how I wish I could do the same.”
Antonio started feeding and she patted his bottom, as she thought of all the things she still needed to do before she participated in the myriad revelries of the grand evening.
And she thought of things that she would never get to do. She stared down at her son’s face—a little of the Belgranos in his brows and eyes and so much of his father in his demanding temperament, charming smiles and the way he could stare into her eyes. “Will you break my heart too,mi pequeño?” she asked quietly, running her finger over his fat cheek.
When he finished feeding, Shelene called to one of his nannies, an English lady down on her luck, plus two others, both wives of Sakina and Brahim’s grandsons. “Mrs. Johns, I think Antonio is ready for his bed.”
Shelene wanted Antonio to speak English like the finest lord, and the surrounding Spanish influence would be little help. She already knew that someday her son would grow up and want to know his father’s people. Shelene had selfishly kept his birth to herself, not even penning a letter to Roman’s older brother or mother. Mr. Fisk knew. That was confirmation enough of Antonio’s legitimacy, for the time being.
Roman. She could hardly say his name.
Mrs. Johns lifted him away, holding him gently. It was good to know Shelene could trust Mrs. Johns to love her son the way she did. “I’ll need to change the wee lad first.”
Shelene brushed her hand over the top of his head then leaned to kiss his temple. “You call me if he needs anything. The party is not more important than he is.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to interrupt such an important evening.”
“It wouldn’t beyouinterrupting me, Mrs. Johns. Antonio, even at his tender age, has a mind of his own.”
She laughed. “He will be managing the estate before you know it!”
“I hope he is older than four years old when this occurs. Or at least walking.”
“Señor Navarro will be the most wonderful father to young Antonio. Such a man is just what you and your son need in this time.”
“Having prosperous estates does not mean he will be a good father, though in Señor Navarro’s case, I cannot dispute that he raised his two daughters well.” Both of them would be in attendance along with their husbands, both minor dons near Barcelona.
“And saw them into successful marriages too.” Antonio squirmed in Mrs. Johns’ arms.
“Well, I must be off. There is still much to do,” Shelene said.
Mrs. Johns touched Shelene’s arm. “I know you are sad, but a marriage, a new life, will be just the thing to put the sorrows of the past behind you.”
“Would you consider me a hopeless flatterer if I said you are the most beautiful woman in attendance?” The dance floor was crowded, and the people and activity created a cacophony which made it hard to think let alone speak. He had to lean close to compliment her.
“Since the party is for me,for us, I had a duty to look my best.” Shelene felt Raúl tug at her waist to pull her closer as they danced the elegant waltz. “But feel free to flatter any time you wish.”
Her dress, with its white puffed sleeves and bodice, was complemented by a red skirt with a laced diagonal hem so that her calf and ankle showed when she walked or danced. She wore black jet beads about her neck with a dangling cabochon, a shiny ruby in the middle. Her curled hair was piled atop her head and secured with a beaded black comb that almost appeared as a crown as it emerged from her hair.
“You know it is not your dress of which I speak. When you smile—which you don’t do enough of, by the way—you shine brighter than the sun. I will take flattery as my sacred duty once we are married. And rest assured, I do have an entire repertoire in case you are worried my honeyed words will dry up once we’ve said our vows.”
Shelene smiled, glancing into his eyes. Outside, beneath the lights, the color was dark and mysterious.
She had dodged, delayed and prevaricated about marriage to Señor Navarro’s proposal. And the reason she had finally said yes had nothing to do with Roman’s death.
The orchestral music ended, and Raúl escorted her around the room, where they spoke in polite tones about all things mildly interesting to the local populace. All the most sensitive subjects were avoided, though many asked about little Antonio.
Only family would dare breach her carefully erected walls. Only Uncle Francisco Belgrano.
“Would you care for a refreshment, Señora Forrester?”
“I have asked you to call me Shelene,” she said. Just hearing her last name—Roman’s name—sent stabs through her heart, still strong enough to make her knees weak with grief.
“That would be wonderful. I’ll walk with you over to my aunt before you let me go.”
