Page 86 of Bride By Mistake
“Because I was worried about you.”
“Worried?” Perlita arched her slender brows. “About me?” She gave a snort of disbelief.
“It’s true.” Bella set her cup aside and took the plunge. “I had heard you were… living with Ramón. I was concerned.”
“You have no need. Ramón is good to me.” Her eyes narrowed. “And why is it any of your business what I do, anyway?”
It was very hard, having Papa’s eyes glittering at her with hostility and suspicion, but the very fact they were Papa’s eyes gave Bella heart. “Perlita, I know we don’t know each other, that we’ve never spoken, or even met, but I’ve known about you since I was a little girl, and you’ve probably always known about me. I’ve lost everyone and—” She broke off. “You’re my sister and I’ve come here to meet you. And to see that you are all right.”
There was a long silence. Perlita stared, her face pale as marble and, despite the fire, looking just as cold. Then her mouth quivered. “I n-never thought I’d ever hear you say that.”
“I always wanted a sister,” Isabella said softly. “I was so lonely as a child.”
Perlita pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You hated me. You used to watch our house from up on the hill, spying on us.”
“I know,” Isabella admitted. “I was jealous of you.”
Perlita’s jaw dropped. “Jealous of me? But you were the daughter.”
“So were you,” Isabella said. “And you were the daughter he loved.”
Perlita shook her head. “He never once called me hisdaughter. I was always his little pearl or his pretty one, or simply Perlita, but never,neverdid he call me—or even refer to me—as his daughter. Not once.”
Isabella blinked, puzzled. “But he loved you.”
“He was fond of me, a little.” Perlita shrugged. “But you were the one he truly valued.”
Isabella’s jaw dropped. “Valued? Papa never valued me. I was never good enough. Nothing I did was ever good enough.”
The two girls stared at each other, struggling to come to terms with the very different view each had of their shared past. Beside Isabella, Luke sat quietly, absorbing the implications of what each was saying. He was no stranger to the tangle of family connections and misapprehensions.
A clock on the mantel chimed, and Perlita started and glanced at the time. “Ramón will be here any minute.” She jumped to her feet, looking worried and indecisive. Isabella jumped up looking ready for a fight.
Luke poured himself another cup of tea. He felt cool and distant, as he did each time Fate ushered in danger.
Heavy steps sounded on the tiled terra-cotta floor outside. “I— I’ll speak to him,” Perlita said and ran out of the room.
They heard voices, low at first and then raised in argument.
“Sit down,” Luke told Isabella who was pacing nervously. “Finish your tea. Have a little cake. They’re delicious.”
She turned on him. “How can you think of food at a time like this?”
“Do you want Ramón to know you’re frightened of him?”
She gave him a startled look, then plunked down on the settee beside him. “I’m not in the least bit frightened of him,” she declared and plastered a haughty, unnaturally calm expression on her face.
Thirteen
The door crashed open. Ramón strode into the room. Perlita followed, hovering anxiously.
Ramón wasn’t particularly tall, but he was built like a bull, with broad shoulders and a deep barrel chest. Dark, with a swarthy complexion, his face was dominated by a large nose and a thick, black mustache. He barely even glanced at Isabella. With his gaze fixed on Luke, Ramón swaggered up to him, planted his feet apart, and said, “So, you walk right into my parlor, Englishman? Are you a fool, then?”
Luke politely rose to his feet saying pleasantly in English, “And a Fee Fi Fo Fum to you, too, sir.”
Behind him he heard Isabella choke.
Luke continued in Spanish. “El Conde de Castillejo, I presume? I am Ripton, Isabella’s husband. How do you do?” He extended his hand.
