Harlequin Historical November 2015, Box Set 2 of 2 (33 page)

Chapter Sixteen

‘M
ary! You are very far away today. Have you been listening to me at all?'

Startled, Mary looked to Teresa where she sat on the seat across their small, open carriage. Teresa grinned at her and Mary had to laugh. In truth, she had
not
been listening ever since they left the city centre of Rio for an exploratory visit into the countryside. She couldn't stop thinking about Sebastian, about the wondrous unreality of their kiss, of the whole masked ball. She couldn't help but think it might all have been a dream. Now there was a picnic on the beach to get to and she had to cease dreaming.

And yet she was sure she could still fell his touch on her skin, still taste that kiss. She had been swept away by the whole romance of the night, the warm, flower-scented air, the freedom of a costume, the music. What had made him kiss her? Was it all a game again? What had he warned her about?

It had not felt like a game. But she had been mistaken about him before.

She tilted her parasol to shield the bright sun that burned over their open carriage. She knew she shouldn't worry about Sebastian Barrett and what he was really doing here in Brazil, here with her. Not at that moment. It was a beautiful day and she had never seen anything like the scene around them. The city itself had been crowded, noisy, bustling with a marketplace set up around the fountain in the main square, but here in the foothills it was quiet, flickering with shadows from the tall coconut trees. The city was spread out below them in a tumble of red roofs and white walls, with the surging sea beyond. The beach looked like a shimmering cream-coloured ribbon in the brilliant sun.

‘I'm sorry, Teresa,' she said. ‘I was just admiring the lovely scenery. It's so very different from anything else I've ever seen.'

Teresa nodded and also turned to study the mystery of the jungle that climbed above them into the black mountains. The wide brim of her pink-straw hat concealed her expression. ‘It is hard to imagine it is winter at home right now. The sun is so blinding. It quite makes me forget...'

The note of melancholy in her usually cheerful friend's voice worried Mary. ‘Are you quite well, Teresa?'

Teresa smiled. ‘Very well indeed. Just a flash of homesickness, I think. But that will soon be gone. There are too many lovely distractions here. Are you going to the Countess de Graumont's party at her new beach villa tomorrow? It should be even more exotic than the masquerade.'

‘We did receive an invitation this morning,' Mary said. She remembered the pile of cards already on their breakfast table, but her father had been most distracted when she asked him which parties they should attend.
Whatever you think best, my dear,
he had said before leaving her for his work. ‘I am certainly looking forward to seeing the place. Will Dom Joao and Doña Carlota be there?'

Teresa laughed. ‘Together, do you mean? I suppose they will; they are much thrown together now. I fear for what might happen if the Princess does not get her own home soon.'

Mary frowned, thinking of Sebastian's mysterious warnings that all was not well in Brazil, that she should be very careful. ‘What do you mean? Is there some danger?'

‘No more than usual, I think. It has been a long time since they lived together. Doña Carlota has become accustomed to having her own life, her own—base of power, shall we say. Luckily for me, I am only a very junior lady-in-waiting and only have to attend her on ceremonial occasions. Even then I have seen her Spanish temper explode when she has been too long near her husband.'

Mary nodded. Everyone knew how volatile the royal marriage was, how Doña Carlota had tried so hard to keep from coming to Brazil. That she had once before tried to overthrow her husband. Was it happening again? Was that what Sebastian meant? ‘Has anything happened of late? I have certainly heard the Princess would prefer to return to her Spanish family.'

‘I am sure she would, but she cannot. Not now. Even if—' Teresa suddenly bit her lip and looked away. ‘I think she does mean to find her own villa, some place near the water like the Countess de Graumont has done. I think I would enjoy a place like that, too.'

The carriage jolted around a turn in the road, giving them a sudden view of the ocean crashing below the rocky ledge of the hills. ‘I would, as well.'

The ocean was indeed gloriously beautiful, but also most changeable instant by instant. It surged from palest turquoise blue to deep green, frothed with lacy white waves, crashing wildly over the sandy shore and receding back again. It made her think of Sebastian and how hard to read he was. How much he had changed since last she saw him, but how untrustworthy that was.

Suddenly, a flash of movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head to the mountains that rose above their path, to the dark cliffs that loomed above the jungle-like tree line. The hills were a dark purple-blue, shadowed, with small black openings dotted along the winding, paler paths.

Everything was very still now, just the wind in the trees the only movement, but she could have vowed she saw something up there, light and flashing against the darkness.

‘What is up that way?' she said.

Teresa also glanced up, but she didn't seem terribly interested. ‘Where, Mary? The hills?'

‘They're the caves of the old people,
senhorita
,' their driver said.

Mary turned to look at him, perched above them on his box. He was a large man, dark-haired and square-faced in his new fine livery. The man who rented the Manning house to them, along with the staff, said the driver and his family were Portuguese who had lived in Brazil for some time, so hopefully he would know of the local places. ‘The caves of the old people?'

He laughed. ‘Not old like grandfathers,
senhorita
, but the civilisation that lived here before us, long ago. They lived up in those caves, but no one goes there now. It's too rocky and treacherous up the pathways. I have heard tell a few people who still worship the old gods make their way there once or twice a year, but I have never tried it. My wife scares our children away from them with tales of phantoms.'

‘Fascinating.' Mary studied the looming hills, wondering at their mysteries. ‘I thought I saw someone there just now.'

‘I wouldn't go up there if I thought there were phantoms,' Teresa said with a laugh. ‘I am sure it was just a shadow, Mary.'

‘Yes, probably,' Mary murmured. But as they drove on, winding their way down to the beautiful beach, she glanced back at the mountains and shivered a bit. Their dark mystery was alluring, even as she knew she should stay far away. Just as it was with Sebastian.

As the carriage slowly lurched along the winding, narrow pathway towards the beach, even Teresa grew quieter, watching the passing scenery, the rocky road and the thick greenery with an expression of some concern. But Mary was glad of the silence for a moment, broken only by the creak of the carriage wheels, the cry of the birds in the thick, dark canopy of trees. She had to help her father, to keep watch over the social scene of their new home, and she couldn't be distracted so much by Sebastian Barrett.

But her worries vanished as the carriage suddenly emerged from the shadowed thicket and the sweep of the beach came into view. Bright white picnic pavilions were set up on the pale sand, colourful banners fluttering from every corner, and beyond was the rush of the aquamarine-and-emerald sea. In the distance she could glimpse the peaks of the distant mountains, purplish-black against the brilliant blue sky.

‘Oh, how lovely!' Teresa cried. ‘We shall have such fun today, won't we, Mary?'

Mary smiled. ‘It is quite pretty. Like a medieval tournament in a story. If there had been sandy beaches then, of course!'

‘So different from Lisbon,' Teresa said softly, as if to herself as she studied the glorious sweep of white and blue. ‘It could be a lovely new beginning. If only Luis could see that...'

Mary frowned at her friend's sad tone. ‘Does your brother not feel—settled here as of yet?'

Teresa laughed. ‘Of course not. But surely he will see everything different in such a place as this.'

The carriage lumbered to a halt next to the other vehicles left haphazardly at the edge of where the rocky, green underbrush met the drifts of pale sand. Mary followed Teresa as they made their way towards the party, where sounds of music and laughter drifted out from the pavilions.

Mary's half-boots sank a bit into the sand, slowing her down, but she had to laugh. The warm breeze, smelling of salty sea and strange, heady flowers, caught at her bonnet and raised her spirits. Teresa was surely right—life looked very different in such a place.

She peeked up at the sky from beneath the ribbon-trimmed brim of her bonnet, dazzled by the glittering sunlight.

‘Mary, hurry up!' Teresa called.

Mary quickly followed her friend into the waiting pavilion. For a moment, the shadow after the bright light dazzled her and only slowly could she make out the scene before her. Long tables, spread with white-damask clothes and platters of fruit and fine cheese, iced cakes and creams, led up to a velvet-draped dais where Prince Joao sat with some of his children, all of them dressed in heavy satins and watching the merry gathering as if they were at a theatre. It seemed the Princess had not attended, but no one appeared to miss her very much. A small orchestra played dance music as everyone feasted and laughed.

Yet none of the crowd caught her attention as much as the man who stood near the dais. Sebastian; of course he would be there. He smiled, though he seemed rather apart from the party in his plain dark-blue coat and cream-coloured waistcoat. After only an instant, he vanished among the crowded tables.

A footman offered Mary a glass of pale-pink punch and she took it, glad of the distraction. She took a sip and choked on an unexpected sharp, strong rush of alcohol.

‘One should go slowly with this punch, Miss Manning—the Prince has been insisting everyone try the local rum, with startling effect,' Sebastian said behind her.

Mary whirled around, surprised and yet also warmly pleased. ‘Really, Lord Sebastian! You
must
cease startling me so.' But she also had to laugh. Perhaps it was the warm day, the punch—or Sebastian's bright-green eyes, his teasing smile. It made her feel so much lighter, as if she could float away into the bright blue sky.

‘How much of it have
you
imbibed, Lord Sebastian?' she asked.

‘Oh, only the merest sip, I assure you,' he said, very seriously, yet there was that twinkle in his eyes. It made her think of when they had first met in London and she had been immediately drawn to his charm, which ought to have made her most cautious indeed.

Yet somehow that hard edge that had once given him a steel tinge seemed gone today and so was her chilly caution. She wanted to laugh and dance, too. To think he was the man she had once imagined.

‘Perhaps we should try just a bit more, then,' she whispered.

Sebastian laughed, his eyes widening as if he was surprised at her words, but he fetched her a fresh glass of punch and they strolled around the edge of the crowd. Mary carefully sipped at her punch and studied the people around her, Portuguese courtiers and English friends of her father, but she was always warmly aware of the man who walked beside her. When she peeked up at him, she found him smiling down at her, as if he, too, felt the exotic loveliness of the day. She gave him a tentative smile in return.

‘Is your father not here today, Miss Manning?' he asked.

Mary shook her head. ‘He said he wanted to work at our lodgings today and I confess I was glad when he decided not to journey out of the city. I fear he has been working too hard lately.'

Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. ‘Sir William is the most diligent of the English party, certainly, and his wisdom and experience have been most helpful to me. I hope he is not feeling unwell?'

‘He says not, that I fuss over him too much and he is probably right.' Mary laughed at herself. ‘I am always pressing cups of tea and shawls on him, poor Father. But it has been only the two of us for so long.'

‘Anyone can see how much you care about each other,' he said and Mary thought she heard a small note of sadness deep in his voice. But when she studied him closer, he smiled again, chasing away the quick shadow in his eyes. ‘I will join you in keeping careful watch on him. Perhaps he would let me help him in his work sometimes.'

‘I would much appreciate any help you could give him, Lord Sebastian. I do think the warm sun has done him much good.' They stopped near an open doorway in the pavilion and Mary found herself gazing out at the sea beyond. ‘And who would not? It is so beautiful here, sometimes I think it is a dream.'

‘This is indeed a dream,' he said quietly and she looked up to find he watched not the blue-green waves, but her own face. She felt her cheeks turn warm and looked away.

She wandered on to the sand, spread just beyond the party with carpets, but stretching beyond in a warm, white-gold sweep towards the waves. ‘I did read much about Brazil on the journey, but I could not have imagined this. When I was a little girl, my mother read me a fairy story set in a tower by the sea in France and I think I envisioned it rather like this. I was very disappointed when I finally saw it and found it grey and cold! My mother would have loved this.'

‘Do you remember much of your mother?'

‘Not as much as I wish I did, of course. She was beautiful and always full of laughter. She would sing to me and hold me in her arms as we danced across the nursery! I don't think she ever thought I would even see her home of Portugal, let alone Brazil. What was
your
mother like?'

‘My mother?' he said and sounded surprised.

Mary laughed. ‘Yes. Surely even the lovely Lord Sebastian Barrett had a mother!'