Page 102 of Bride By Mistake
“Where did you—”
“Last night, after the gypsy dance, when I went out for a walk. An old crone gave me a price I couldn’t resist. Pretty, don’t you think?”
Bella stared at her reflection. The red flowers were the same shade as her dress, and the creamy silk made her complexion glow. She could go to supper not feeling completely inferior to her sister for once. In this shawl she felt almost beautiful. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Ramón and Perlita were waiting for them in her father’s study. Bella stepped into the room on Luke’s arm. Perlita wore a fine gown of emerald green overlaid with gauze. She rose from her chair like a goddess emerging from the sea. Her eyes were tragic and guilt-ridden.
Bella suppressed a gasp. Her fingers dug into Luke’s arm with the effort of keeping silent. He glanced at her face, then followed her gaze.
Around Perlita’s neck was a long rope of pearls. Glowing, perfect South Sea Island pearls.
Ramón stood with a proprietary arm around Perlita’s waist. He looked smug.
Whatever was left in this house eight years ago now belongs to Ramón and is his to do with what he chooses.
And he had, Bella saw. Perlita met her gaze and gave a small, sad shake of her head.
She hadn’t known. Bella nodded and sent her sister a reassuring smile. She knew very well who was to blame. Ramón knew exactly whose pearls they were. And he was watching Luke like a wolf, waiting for him to start a fight over the pearls. Wanting him to.
Having Perlita wear them tonight was deliberate provocation.
Luke would fight him, too, Bella knew. He might have given her the shawl, but he was still wound tight from their argument on the hills. All he would need was an excuse.
Luke bent and murmured in Bella’s ear. “Your mother’s pearls?”
Shepressed her lips together andshook her head. She would say nothing.
A servant she did not know handed around glasses of wine. She sipped hers gratefully and grimaced in surprise. It was not the smooth Valle Verde wine she knew.
Ramón was more observant than he looked. “The wine is not to your liking?”
“Not at all,” she said with deliberate ambiguity. “I was just expecting it to be one of the Valle Verde vintages.”
“It is Valle Verde wine.”
“Indeed?” It tasted nothing like the wine Papa had made.
“Made from Valle Verde grapes, at any rate. With the size of the vineyards here, it was impractical to continue making wine at Valle Verde,” Ramón explained. “To maintain the winery in a profitable state, your father should have put more fields under vines, but he preferred horses, as do I. But the vines still produce well, so I sell the grapes to a neighbor and he makes the wine and gives me a share.”
“I see,” Bella said politely. It was a false economy. The neighbor was a terrible winemaker.
Ramón laughed. “But why do I bother explaining business to an empty-headed woman?” He turned to Luke. “Perlita tells me you inspected the estate this afternoon, Englishman. So, what do you think?”
“It’s beautiful country,” Luke responded, but before he could say anything else, Perlita tinkled the little bell, giving the signal for them to go in to supper.
As dish after dish was brought out, Bella saw that Perlita had made a special effort with the meal. Every dish was one of Isabella’s childhood favorites. The servants would have known which dishes, but the order to make them was her sister’s gesture.
A silent apology for the pearls. Bella sent Perlita a little nod of acknowledgment and thanks.
A servant came forward with a silver carafe of wine. “I would prefer one of the old Valle Verde vintages,” Bella said.
“None left,” Ramón said. “I sold it all.”
“Then just water for me, thank you.”
His brow darkened. “What’s the matter with my wine?” he growled. “Not good enough for you, my fine lady?”
She hesitated. “No,” she said, deciding honesty was more important than politeness. “It’s dreadful. The old Valle Verde wine was much better.”
