The Stand-In Bride

‘That’s enough,’ Maggie said, laying a hand on the girl’s arm. ‘There’s no need for this, Catalina. We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps it’s Don Sebastian who should be ashamed, for spying on us.’

‘That was a most unwise remark, Senora,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘I do not owe you or anyone an account of my actions, but I will tell you this. I arrived unexpectedly and decided to join you at the theatre. When it was clear that you weren’t there, I returned here to wait for you. It’s now past one in the morning, and if you know what’s good for you, you will explain exactly where you were, and who you met.’

‘How dare you?’ Maggie snapped. ‘We met nobody. Catalina has been in my company, and mine alone, the whole evening.’

‘Dressed like that?’ he asked scathingly, taking in the elegantly sexy contours of her dress. ‘I don’t think so. Women flaunt themselves for men, not each other.’

‘Piffle!’ Maggie said, losing her temper. ‘Catalina likes to dress up for the pleasure of it, as does any young girl. I dressed up to keep her company.’

‘You’ll forgive my not accepting your word,’ he said coldly.

‘No, I won’t forgive you, because I don’t tell lies.’

‘But Catalina does. Under your chaperonage she feels free to deceive me. Now I know the kind of example you set her. You take her out gallivanting heaven knows where, and encourage her to lie about where you’ve been.’

‘I didn’t encourage her-I couldn’t stop her. Yes, it was a stupid lie, but only a small one, and it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t act like a man bringing the word down from the mountain. Stop making such an issue of something so trivial. She’s eighteen, for pity’s sake, and entitled to some innocent fun.’

‘I will be the judge of that.’

From behind the bedroom door came the sound of a groan.

‘Poor Isabella,’ Catalina said hurriedly. ‘I was forgetting that she isn’t well. I should go to her.’

‘Yes, do,’ Maggie advised, regarding Don Sebastian out of glinting eyes. ‘We’ll fight better without you.’

Catalina scuttled away, leaving the other two eyeing each other like jousters. Again Maggie had the sensation of danger that she’d felt in the first moments of meeting him. She wasn’t frightened. There was something about danger that exhilarated her when she could meet it head-on. Perhaps he should be afraid.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU are right, Senora,’ Don Sebastian said. ‘My bride is innocent in this matter. The blame lies with the woman charged with her welfare, who has so notably failed in her responsibilities. For the last time, I demand that you tell me where you have been.’

‘To the theatre.’

‘To see what?’

‘A light-hearted musical. Not as worthy and improving as Julius Caesar, but it’s Christmas and neither of us was in the mood for war and murder.’

‘And does this light-hearted musical have a title?’ he growled. He knew she was prevaricating.

Maggie sighed. ‘Yes. It’s called Your Place Or Mine?’ she said reluctantly, realising how it sounded.

‘Your Place Or Mine?’ he echoed. ‘I suppose that tells me all I need to know about the kind of sleazy entertainment you think suitable for a sheltered young girl.’

‘Rubbish,’ Maggie said firmly. ‘The title is misleading. It isn’t sleazy at all-just a little bit naughty, but basically innocent.’

‘Indeed?’ Don Sebastian snatched up a newspaper he had been reading to pass the time, and pointed to an advertisement for the show they had just seen. ‘Outrageous,’ he quoted. ‘Titillating! Don’t take your grandmother!’

Maggie struggled to stop her lips twitching, and failed.

‘I am amusing you?’ Don Sebastian asked in a warning voice.

‘Yes, frankly, you are. If you knew anything about theatre advertising-which you clearly don’t-you’d realise that this kind of publicity is deliberately angled to make the public think a show more shocking than it is. “Don’t take your grandmother,” really means that even your grandmother wouldn’t be shocked. My own grandmother would have loved it.’

‘I can well believe that.’

‘Meaning? Meaning?’

‘Do you wish me to spell it out?’

‘Not unless you enjoy making yourself unpleasant, which I’m beginning to think you do. What a fuss about nothing! Catalina is young, pretty. She ought to be out dancing with friends of her own age, and what do you offer her? Julius Caesar, for pity’s sake! Men in nighties and little skirts, with knobbles on their knees.’

‘Since you didn’t see the performance you are hardly equipped to comment on their knees,’ he snapped.

‘I’ll bet they were knobbly, though. A sheltered girl like Catalina would probably have been shocked at the sight.’

But humour was wasted on this man. His eyes had narrowed in a way that some people might have found intimidating, but Maggie was past caring. She had never met anyone who made her so angry so quickly.

At last he said, ‘You have your values and I have mine. They seem to be entirely different. I blame myself for hiring your services without checking you out first.’

‘Don’t you have your finger in enough pies?’ she demanded in exasperation. ‘Must each tiny detail come under your control?’

‘With every word you betray how little you understand. When a man is in authority, control is essential. If he does not control all the details, his authority is incomplete.’

‘Details!’ Maggie said explosively. ‘You’re talking about this poor girl’s life. And if you regard that as a detail I can only say I pity her.’

‘How fortunate that I’m not obliged to consider your opinion,’ he snapped.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever considered anyone’s opinion in your life,’ she snapped back.

‘I don’t tolerate interference with my private affairs. It’s not your place to criticise me or my forthcoming marriage.’

‘If you had any decency, there wouldn’t be a marriage.’

‘On the contrary, it’s only my sense of duty that makes me take a feather-headed ninny as my wife. On his death-bed her father made me promise to protect her, and I gave my word.’

‘So be her guardian, but you don’t have to be her husband!’

‘A guardian’s power ends on the day his ward marries. I protect her best by remaining her guardian for life.

‘Well, of all the-‘

‘You know Catalina by now. Is she intelligent? Come, be honest.’

‘No, she isn’t. She has a butterfly mind. All the more reason to marry a man who won’t care about that.’

‘And how will she choose her husband? She’s an heiress, and the fortune-hunters will flock to her. Can you imagine the choice she’ll make? I don’t need her money. I’ll make a marriage settlement that ties it up in favour of her children, and then I’ll give her everything she wants.’

‘Except love.’

‘Love,’ he echoed scornfully. ‘What sentimentalists you English are. You think marriage has anything to do with romantic love? My wife will be protected and cared for. I will give her children to love.’

‘And she’ll have to be content with the small corner of your life that you spare her.’

He regarded her cynically. ‘I see how it is. You think a man only makes a good husband if he prostrates himself and worships the woman, like a weakling. But I tell you that a man who truly worships is without pride, and the man who only pretends is not to be trusted.’