Page 5 of The Duke's Treasure
An Englishman. What could an Englishman want with her husband? She wasn’t sure that she wanted to know. Javier had not always been the most… upright of men.
It wasn’t long before the drawing room was ready, and Mariana pushed her mass of dark curls behind her back. She was perhaps far too casual to entertain, but it was of no matter.
She was waiting in the middle of the room when he entered, and she had to blink a few times when he filled the doorway.
She had quite a few expectations of what an English duke might look like – and none of them were standing in front of her right now.
“DoñaPalencia?”
“Yes, that is me,” she responded in English. She had a feeling he wouldn’t have a wonderful grasp of the Spanish language, but he surprised her when he answered in her own tongue with only a touch of an accent.
“Forgive me for the intrusion. I was seeking an audience with your husband.”
“Then you will be waiting a long time,” she said, and his eyes widened.
“Is he not in residence?”
“You could say that,” she replied, deciding in the moment that until she knew whether or not she could trust this man, it would be better not to share the truth with him, but instead allow him to think that her husband was still alive. “There is no point in waiting for him, as he isn’t due to return anytime soon.”
“Is he in Spain?”
“No.”
“I see,” he said, rocking back and forth from his toes to his heels as though he wasn’t sure what his next action should be. “Perhaps I will ask you a few questions then.”
“I suppose,” she said, finally shaking herself out of her stupor. The English were far from their allies, but this man had taken time to travel all the way here, so she supposed she should at least do what would be expected of her. “Would you like to sit?”
She swept a hand out toward the furniture that surrounded the small table in the middle, and he nodded, though his large form with broad shoulders and thick thighs did not seem likely to fit in the small chair that he chose. She half expected it to break beneath his weight and she watched him with bated breath.
Fortunately, it held.
“My husband’s brother would likely be the man you are seeking in my husband’s stead. You do, however, have a ways to journey, for he resides in Madrid,” she said. “Is there anything I can help you with before you go?”
“I suppose that depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you know of the fortune of theSan Juan.”
“TheSan Juan?” she repeated. “Are you referring to the ship?”
“Yes,” he said. “Are you aware of its fate?”
“Of course. It is lost to the sea somewhere between Peru and Spain.”
“Perhaps,” the duke said. “Perhaps not. I believe there is far more to the story than most realize.”
“I must admit that you are intriguing, but before we continue any further, I must know – just what does my husband have to do with this?”
“You do not know?”
“No,” she said truthfully, although her interest was considerably piqued.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he surprised her by answering.
“Like what?”
“As though I am a specimen to study.”
