Read Online Perchance to Marry by Celine Conway - Free Book Online Page A

said, “My father was her son, and much more Spanish than I am. He married an English woman who could never properly settle here. They separated when I was very young and she never came back. So you see,” with a sardonic smile, “Dona Inez will only be grateful that you found out before marriage, instead of after as my mother did.”
    Sally was pensive. “It doesn’t seem quite fair that she should think badly of all English women, does it? I suppose she’s always wanted you to marry a Spanish girl?”
    “She pegged away at it for a few years. Spanish women are very beautiful and when they’re young they’re spirited, but I always felt they were too immersed in their homes, too docile in marriage, to make exciting wives. But with time, one’s ideas tend to change.”
    “You mean you no longer want an exciting wife?”
    His eyes narrowed in the way his grandmother’s did, and he spoke a little crisply. “We seem to have got away from the point, don’t we? I merely wanted you to know that no one here has ever been aware of the name and profession of the woman I was engaged to. All that side of the business is between you and me and no one else. For all practical purposes here, you’re she.”
    “I understand.”
    “I hope so.” His voice had roughened. “This is your first day here and already you’ve shown both hurt and anger. I don’t want you to be hurt in any way.”
    She lifted a hand. “A little of it is inevitable, but,” with a light smile, “I won’t let it go deep. There’s one thing you haven’t covered. You’re the best-known man on San Palos and for two or three weeks I shall be paired with you in people’s minds. After that, you can go off and scout round for your Spanish girl; and what shall I be permitted to do—stay on the island and take up nursing? Wouldn’t that rather cramp your style?”
    “We’ll deal with that when the time comes.” He seemed to have changed position, so that the lights of the house were behind him and the planes of his face were obscured by shadow. Quite gently, he touched her arm. “It would help no end if you’d try to get into holiday mood and find fun in the situation. I promise you I’ll tone things down whenever I can, but there is the matter of this ring.” It glinted in the palm of his left hand, and as she jerked back from it he said, “It’s a dress ring that Dona Inez used to wear when she was young; it never belonged to my mother. I want you to take care of it and slip it on whenever you go in to see Dona Inez.”
    She moistened her lower lip. Then with a show of nonchalance she took the ring, looked at it for a moment and dropped it into the wide triangular pocket of her skirt. “Very well, Marcus. After all, if one’s playing a part one may as well do it properly. I’m sure your former fiancée could have managed this role more successfully, but I’ll never let it be said that I didn’t give it a good try.”
    He didn’t like that, but she hadn’t meant him to. The hand on her arm was less gentle as it moved up to clasp her elbow. “Let’s go in. Carlos will have arrived for dinner and your mother is bound to be sentimental. No wisecracks, if you don't mind!”
    Momentarily, Sally wondered if she’d imagined that faint movement in the balcony above. They were bound to be watched, though; she would have to get used to it.
    * * *
    The following few days put Sally into a strangely bemused state from which even her mother’s pertinent questions only partially roused her. Perhaps the fact that life at Las Vinas followed a somewhat conventional pattern contributed to her static frame of mind. Every morning started the same: coffee and crisp golden twists of bread with balls of yellow butter and delicate silver shells filled with marmalade and honey, all served in her bedroom on a silver tray garnished with a single spray of lilac—this being the white and lilac bedroom, she supposed. Viola said that on different mornings