Page 8 of The Duke's Treasure
“You’re English,” the man said, leaning in toward him. He was about twenty years Edward’s senior, with a long grey beard and unreadable dark eyes.
“I am,” Edward admitted. “My accent is not as good as I thought it was, apparently.”
“Not bad for a foreigner,” the man said, holding out his hand. “Pablo Sánchez García.”
“Nice to meet you,” Edward said with a nod.
“Heard you had business at the Palencia manor,” García said nonchalantly, causing Edward to start in surprise, although he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“It seems news travels as fast here as it does in an English town.”
“Perhaps faster,” García said with a snort. “You saw the widow?”
“The widow?” Edward put his drink down. “What widow?”
“DoñaPalencia. I know I shouldn’t be saying it, but she is a beauty, is she not? Even an Englishman must think so, though she is likely far too much for a man used to an English rose.”
García laughed at himself, but Edward had sat back in his chair, processing what he had heard. She had lied to him, pretending that her husband was just away, when in reality he was dead. Edward wondered for how long, and what she thought she had to gain by making him think the man was still alive – or what secrets she was keeping.
It seemed he had to pay another visit to the fieryDoñaPalencia.
He hated how much he was looking forward to doing so.
Edward knew bettertoday than to knock on the front door. Getting past the butler yesterday had taken a nearly Herculean effort.
His visit yesterday had, however, provided him with a better understanding of the layout of the manor, and his glimpse of the immense grounds with its layers of foliage told him that there would be ample opportunity for him to sneak around to the back, and hopefully enter through the terrace doors.
The tropical climate of San Sebastian meant that the grounds of this manor were much lusher than anything one would ever find in England, and here at the Palencia Manor it seemed that while nothing had been left to disorder, the garden had been allowed to grow in its natural state.
As he tried to decide how best to approach the lady this time without being removed from the building at his surprise appearance, a melodic trill met his ears, and he realized that he wasn’t going to have to break into the manor to find her after all.
He opened his mouth to call out to her, but as he rounded the corner of a bank of trees, he stopped, stilling when she came into sight.
She was walking along a small body of water that ran through the grounds, her hand running over the pink flowers that were growing on the row of trees next to it. She stopped for a moment, arm outstretched while she waited, and Edward couldn’t stop watching her, his jaw dropping open when a bird flew down and perched on her finger. It was like something out of a fairy tale.
She laughed, continuing her song, the tune echoing softly behind her.
It was in Spanish, the words soft and melodic.
“Mi amor, has llenado mi corazón. Me ha dejado tan ligero y sintiendo calor…”she sang, and Edward translated it to himself as quickly as he could.
My love has filled my heart. He has left me so light and feeling warmth, he murmured. He hadn’t heard it before, but then, it wasn’t likely that Spanish songs would be sung in the parlors of English homes.
Now he found himself caught between not wanting to startle her but needing to make her aware of his presence.
The choice was taken away from him, however, when he stepped on a twig and it snapped, causing the bird to fly away and the woman to whirl around quickly toward him with a gasp.
“You,” she said accusingly, her face narrowing when she saw him. “What are you doing here? How did you get back here?”
“I walked,” he said. “Didn’t want to face your scary butler again.”
“Abello?” she said with raised brows. “There is nothing scary about Abello.”
“I have the sense that no one scares you very much.”
She tilted her head, a slight smile curling her lips, although emotion flashed in her eyes.
“I suppose you are right about that. Why are you here?”
