Once a Soldier (Rogues Redeemed) (13 page)

“Athena, don’t throw what we have away!” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a desperate intensity that incinerated her senses. They’d kissed before, but she’d not felt the full force of the passion that lay under his easygoing exterior. For delirious moments she kissed him back, aroused to a madness she’d never known before.

For a wild moment, she was able to convince herself that he was right, that they could join their lives happily ever after. Then the tilting glass chimney of her forgotten candlestick pitched over and smashed on the floor.

She jerked away from Will, hot wax from the candle burning her hand as she remembered all the reasons they should stay apart. “Do you want to hear the full extent of my shame?” she said in a shaking voice. “My mother wasn’t only Lady Delilah. She was also called Lady Whore, and I was Lady Whore’s Daughter. Every girl in that hellish, sanctimonious school I attended knew, and they weren’t ashamed to call me that. None of them ever had their mouths washed out with soap for using that term, either. Because that wasn’t bad language, it was
truth.
”

“Dear God, Athena!” His face was white. “I don’t know if it will ever be possible to make up for such abuse, but give me the chance to try!”

She sighed wearily. “I don’t doubt your sincerity, but you haven’t thought this out. Do you want to hold a ball or a dinner party in London and have the guests refuse to attend so they won’t have to be under the same roof with Lady Whore’s Daughter? Do you want to have people cluck their tongues and feel pity for you because it’s a shame that such a nice, well-liked man married a scheming woman who must be as big a slut as her mother? Do you want to have to fight duels to defend my name? Or worse, believe that rumors of my profligate behavior might be true? Do you want your children shadowed by their grandmother’s wicked reputation?”

His gaze was anguished, but he didn’t look away. “You paint a bleak picture. It couldn’t possibly be that bad. Memories are short, and once people get to know you, they’ll forget the old scandals. I’m willing to take the risk of social disapproval.”

“That’s a credit to your good heart if not your good sense.” She peeled the spattered drops of cool wax from her hand. “You’ve never been the target of such hating and disdain and you underestimate how hurtful it is. Since I know, I will not allow you to take on such a burden.” The wax was peeled away, leaving angry red marks. Raising her gaze to him, she said, “We should be only the most distant of friends, my lord. You can have any woman you want, so find one who fits you and your life, and . . . and be happy.”

Unable to bear any more, she bolted into her room. As she closed the door behind her, he said in a low, anguished voice, “You’re wrong. Obviously, I can’t have any girl I want.”

His words were a knife slash to her heart. She closed and locked the door with shaking hands, then leaned against the heavy wood panels as she fought tears. She wished she believed that together they could build a good life. But when he wasn’t holding her, all the slights and insults of her past sprang to stinging life.

Will might not mind that she was a bastard. But everyone around him would.

Chapter 18

S
tunned, Will stared at Athena’s door. He didn’t have to hear the bolt snapping into place to recognize finality. They’d been enjoying each other’s company so much till tonight, and now a few words had changed everything.

He’d never felt so helpless in his life. Mind reeling, he returned to the family sitting room. Sofia had tactfully withdrawn, leaving Justin. When Will entered the room, his friend asked, “Bad?”

“I asked Athena to marry me.” He drew a shaky breath. “Apparently, the lady would rather see me in Hades.”

Justin lifted a bottle and poured a generous measure into a goblet. “I think you need some of the local brandy, which is quite fine.” He handed the glass to Will. “I don’t know any of the details, but Miss Markham was clearly shocked at the knowledge that you’re a peer of the realm.”

“An understatement.” Will sank into the sofa, then accepted the brandy and swallowed deeply. The kick of alcohol steadied his nerves. “I was a damned fool to propose marriage when she was in a state of shock.”

“She seemed to like you well enough until I made the mistake of revealing your grand origins.” Justin frowned over his brandy. “I’m sorry. It never occurred to me that she didn’t know your rank.”

Will sighed. “You couldn’t have known. Though I recognized that she wasn’t fond of the aristocracy, I didn’t deliberately keep my title secret. Being Lord Masterson has had very little to do with my life in recent years.”

“Most women would be delighted to have a rich, titled gentleman interested in them, but obviously there is more going on here,” Justin said gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Will needed to talk, and Justin was clear-sighted as well as a good listener. Swirling the brandy absently, Will debated how much he could say without violating Athena’s privacy. “Athena is illegitimate. Her mother was a daughter of one of the grander aristocrats, but she chose a life of wanton scandal. She lived as a courtesan to the great and powerful and apparently chose to have an illegitimate child as a companion.”

“Good heavens, Lady Delilah Markham?” Justin said, startled. “I didn’t know she had a daughter.”

Will’s brows arched. “You knew Lady Delilah?”

“I never met her, but I once saw her at a distance in Porto. She was dazzling, the kind of woman a man stares at, and then tries desperately to learn who she is. I’ve heard any number of stories. She was said to be as wild as she was beautiful and charming. Now that I think of it, I vaguely recall that she had a very visible affair with one of the Gabrileño royals. The king?”

“No, Prince Alfonso.” Since Justin knew the general facts of Delilah’s life, Will added, “That was the basis of Athena’s connection with San Gabriel.”

“Who is her father?”

“A grand lord who was revolted by her very existence and supported her on the condition she never reveal who he was. After her mother died, Athena was entirely alone and her father had her sent to a vicious, bloody-minded school, presumably to have the wildness stamped out of her.”

Justin whistled softly. “I begin to understand why she isn’t fond of lords. Do you know her father’s name?”

“If I did, I’d be tempted to find the wretch and break a few bones,” Will said dryly. “Other than that, it doesn’t matter to me what her bloodlines are. We just realized that we first met during the bridge of boats disaster in Porto five years ago. She was in the midst of saving a child from drowning, and almost drowning herself. She is who she is, and that’s enough for me.”

“I knew you were there, but it’s remarkable that she was also!” Justin exclaimed. “Did she get caught in the middle of the battle on her way to San Gabriel?”

“Exactly. She was collecting Princess Maria Sofia, who was at a convent school in Porto. When the French invaded, she was instrumental in getting the nuns and students to safety. That’s when I met her. Then she escorted the princess and another Gabrileña girl home. She’s lived here ever since, but would like to go home to England. In some way that no one will notice her.”

“Intrepid woman! Well suited to you,” Justin said. “She reminds me of someone, but I can’t place the resemblance. Maybe it will come to me.”

“She’s sometimes called Lady Athena here as a title of respect. She has earned that respect, just as I earned the right to be called Major Masterson. Being called Lord Masterson is just a superficial accident of birth,” Will said with exasperation. “Unlike actually having money, which can be useful. But if peerage titles matter, I did offer her one. She thinks there is an impassable gap between us. I don’t.”

“Do you intend to give up on winning her over?”

“Of course not. You know how stubborn I can be. Athena is . . .” Will shook his head. He’d cared greatly for her already, and the honor and vulnerability she’d shown tonight had made him care even more. “I’ve never met her equal. I’m not leaving San Gabriel till I’ve fulfilled my obligations here. That should give Athena time to recover from her shock and realize that I’m not on some bloody unreachable pedestal.”

Justin poured himself more brandy. “But you are on a pedestal, though not an unreachable one.”

“I don’t
care
that she’s illegitimate!” Will said explosively. “How can I get her to believe me?”

“She may believe that
you
don’t care, but she has reason to believe that everyone else does.” Justin shook his head. “You’re as fair-minded and tolerant a man as I’ve ever met, but you were born to privilege. You always knew that someday you’d be Lord Masterson. As a fish in the sea doesn’t recognize the water he swims in, I don’t think you’re fully aware of just how privileged you are.”

“Athena said something similar,” Will admitted. “I know that I’ve been fortunate, but that doesn’t make me special in any way that matters. I’m legitimate and Mac isn’t, but he’s much brighter and more popular than I, and he’s made a fortune by his own efforts. He’s never lacked for confidence.”

“I think Mackenzie learned early how to fake confidence well, probably to compensate for the bar sinister. Have you ever talked to him about the difference between your legitimacy and his lack of it?”

Surprised, Will said, “That was never necessary because it wasn’t important.”

“Not to you, but I’d wager anything you like that the difference mattered to Mac.” Justin’s brow furrowed. “Most of our classmates at the Westerfield Academy were as privileged as you. I was the only one in the first class who wasn’t an aristocrat. Ashton was a duke at age ten, you and Kirkland and Wyndham always knew you would inherit titles, Randall inherited a substantial estate and is in line to inherit an earldom. None of you had easy childhoods, but you were all raised swaddled in privilege.”

Will frowned at Justin. “Were you made to feel inferior? I wouldn’t have thought so, but obviously I’m not very observant.”

Justin grinned. “I’m a Scot. Why would I give a damn about the opinions of a bunch of Sassenach? That said, Lady Agnes created an egalitarian atmosphere at the school so there was little bullying or snobbishness.”

“The Westerfield Academy is for boys of good birth and bad behavior, so how did you end up there?” Will asked, curious. “I know the reasons why our other classmates were sent, but not yours. You always seemed to get on very well with your parents.”

“I did and do. I was incredibly fortunate to have them as parents. I attended Westerfield because of crass opportunism,” Justin said promptly. “My father liked that the school was founded by a duke’s daughter and thought it would be good for the business if I went to school with ‘a pack of aristocratic brats,’ as he put it. I wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but he promised that if I hated the place, he’d send me somewhere else. But I liked my classmates, adored Lady Agnes, and settled in quite happily.”

“Your father wasn’t wrong,” Will said with a flicker of humor. “The whole pack of us aristocratic brats now drink Ballard port.”

“The friendships are real. The excellent port is a bonus.” Justin poured more brandy in their glasses. “I wonder. When Miss Markham told you about her illegitimacy and her notorious mother, did you have to tamp down an initial spurt of revulsion?”

“Not even for an instant.” What Will had felt was profound tenderness. “I want to protect her from every wretched person who’s ever hurt her.”

“Not the sort of relationship to abandon lightly,” Justin said. “For what it’s worth, I think your plan of quietly waiting until Miss Markham has time to get used to the idea that you’re a peer is reasonable. I have no better suggestions.”

“I’m not giving up easily, but she’s as stubborn as I am.” Will laughed suddenly. “One of many reasons I like her.”

Justin raised his glass. “A toast to your success! From what I know of the lady, I think she’ll suit you very well. Plus, the two of you look splendid together!”

Will clinked his glass against Justin’s. “I hope I can persuade her as well as I’ve persuaded you.”

After they’d both drunk to that, Justin said a little wistfully, “Because your feelings seem to be mutual, I think you have a good chance of winning her hand and heart. I rather envy that. At least you have hope.”

It wasn’t hard to interpret his words. “You and the princess both looked lightning-struck when you met.”

Justin smiled wryly. “That’s a good description. One look and I felt as if I was falling off a cliff. But there’s no hope for anything more than respectful admiration. She’s likely to become queen, which means she must make a significant marriage that will benefit San Gabriel. No Scottish merchants need apply. And, of course, she’s very young. By the time she’s of marriageable age, she’ll have long forgotten me.”

“She’s not as young as she looks,” Will said. “She’s almost twenty-four. Under Gabrileño law, she can take the throne at age twenty-five.”

“So she’s a young woman, not a girl,” Justin said, startled. “Not that that changes anything. The gap between a royal and a foreign wine merchant is far vaster than the distance between you and Miss Markham.”

Will poured more brandy into their glasses. “True. So let’s make a toast to miracles!”

Justin laughed and complied. “To miracles!”

Will had experienced one or two miracles in his time. Now he must hope for one more.

Chapter 19

A
princess should be ladylike, poised, and gracious. She should also be intelligent, compassionate, and have good judgment. Never arrogant, but always aware of her rank and responsibilities. In short, being a princess took serious effort.

But despite all the responsibilities, a girl could still dream.

Sofia stole a quick sideways glance at the man riding beside her. Justin Ballard had visited her dreams the night before, and she hadn’t been entirely ladylike with him. Her mouth curved in an involuntary smile.

Justin’s multiple facets enchanted her. Though British, he looked and spoke like a native of Portugal. She’d already seen that he could talk easily to anyone of any rank, a trait he shared with his friend Major Masterson. Though his manner was relaxed, she didn’t have to ask if Justin was successful in his business because confidence was a bone-deep part of him. She’d never met a man like him.

And, of course, he was strikingly attractive. The incredible blue eyes set in his tanned Portuguese face were perceptive, as well as reflecting humor and intelligence. Those eyes made her want to swoon like a schoolgirl.

Proper princesses certainly did not swoon over pretty eyes and a fine pair of shoulders, but she was allowed private appreciation.

The day had started at foggy dawn as she and Justin and Señor da Cunha, the royal wine master, had examined the newly arrived vine cuttings. Nodding approval, the wine master had selected what was needed in the royal vineyards and had sent the cuttings off to be planted under the supervision of his chief overseer.

Then Sofia, Justin, and Señor da Cunha had set out with a short train of mules carrying the remaining cuttings to be distributed as needed. As they rode down the valley, the rising sun burned off the mists, revealing San Gabriel at its loveliest.

Bubbling with delight for the day, Sofia urged her horse into a canter up the hill ahead. At the top, she halted and made a sweeping, theatrical gesture that encompassed the whole valley. “Behold my land!”

Below, the river curved through the valley, and stacked on the steep, sloping hills were the quintas, the ancient vineyards that were the heart and soul of Gabrileño wine country. The owners lived and worked in the centuries-old stone farmsteads above the dramatically stepped terraces.

Justin pulled up beside her, his practiced gaze surveying the terraces and the many gaps in the rows of vines. “Beautiful. Very like the upper Douro Valley.” He shook his head. “It was sacrilege for the French to destroy so many vines.”

“Very shortsighted for a people who like wine almost as much as Gabrileños do,” Señor da Cunha agreed as he joined them. “Yet there have been vines here since before the Romans came. The two or three years until we return to full productivity are the merest blink of time compared to that.”

“So I hope,” Sofia agreed. “But I am impatient!”

“The young always are,” the wine master said indulgently. He glanced back at the lazily-plodding pack mules that carried the baskets of cuttings under the supervision of half a dozen newly arrived Portuguese laborers. “Pack mules are slow and good for developing patience, so I will leave them to you while I ride ahead to Señor Carnota’s quinta. He can send his sons to bring men from the neighboring quintas.”

“Very good, Señor da Cunha,” Sofia said courteously.

As the wine master cantered toward the long, low buildings ahead, Justin said in English, “I expect he really wants to tell them about me, foreign wine shipper that I am, and to assure them that I am not totally ignorant about wine.”

Sofia laughed and replied in the same language, “Wise of him to assuage their curiosity before you appear. They are bound to like you, though. You saw how pleased Señor da Cunha was when he chose cuttings for the Alcantara vineyards. He recognizes good stock.”

“He knows his business.” The road entered the Carnota vineyard and Justin reined in his horse and dismounted. As the pack mules ambled by incuriously, he knelt and took a large pinch of soil and tasted it.

Sofia halted, intrigued by his action. “What does the soil taste like?”

“Hard to describe.” He stood and brushed off his hands, then unhooked the canteen from his saddle and rinsed his mouth out. “Sharpish. Very like the soils of the upper Douro Valley, though there’s a difference I can’t define that makes Gabrileño wines so excellent.”

She nodded. “
‘Terroir.’
Señor da Cunha says that’s the French term for the soil and climate and rain and everything else that makes the wine of a place unique.”

“Exactly. The same is true for things like cheese, as well, and meat and fruit and other products of the earth.” He gave her a warm, mischievous smile. “Would you like a taste?”

Sofia blinked. But farmers tasted soil with some regularity, and she’d never heard that anyone died of it. “Yes, please.” She pulled off one glove.

Justin bent for another pinch and dropped it in the center of her palm. His fingertips brushed her bare skin, and it was like the snap of electricity sometimes felt in winter after walking across a carpet. But . . . nicer. Repressing the thought to consider later, she cautiously touched her tongue to the soil.

“As you say, sharpish,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ve not tasted soil elsewhere, so I’ve nothing to compare it to, but I shall remember that this is the taste of Douro wine country. The taste of San Gabriel.”

“You’re a very intrepid princess,” he said as he remounted his horse.

She rinsed her mouth with water from her canteen and spat it out. “This is my country, my charge,” she said seriously. “It is my duty to know as much about it as I can. And that includes the soil.”

As they resumed riding toward the quinta, Justin said, “All great wines reflect their native soils and specific climate. Though San Gabriel is part of the Douro watershed, that doesn’t necessarily mean the soil has the same composition. Given the taste of the local wine, I thought the soils must be very similar, and I just confirmed that.”

“So all we need do is raise our productivity back to normal and find a way to transport the wine to Porto and beyond.” Sofia smiled a little wistfully. “Strange to think that the fruit of our vines might travel to places I’ll never see.”

Justin gave her a searching glance. “You wish to visit distant countries?”

She nodded. “I never quite believed in foreign lands when I was a child. Then I was sent to Porto to a convent school. The first time I saw the sea . . .” She stopped, not wanting to reveal her useless fascination with ships and the dream of exotic places. “Tell me of your home, Justin. You look very Portuguese, except for the blue eyes. Do all Scots look like you?”

“Most are fair-skinned, but I have a Portuguese grandmother, and I spend much time in the sun,” he replied. “Scotland is green and misty and rather magical. Also sometimes cold and wet and dismal!”

“Do you miss your homeland?”

“Yes, but I love Portugal. I also love London, where Ballard Port has a major office and warehouse.” He smiled ruefully at her. “I supposed it’s better to love several places than none, but I have trouble imagining settling down in one place forever. The shipping trade suits me for that reason.”

“I would love to see London. Uncle Alfonso enjoyed his time there and used to tell us stories of it.”

“It’s a grand place, but the weather is better here,” Justin said pragmatically. “You’ll see for yourself someday. When the political situation is stable again, you’ll be able to visit London. You could stay at Ballard House. My mother and sisters would welcome you.”

She sighed and looked across the valley. “If I become queen, which every day seems more likely, traveling so far will not be possible. At least not until I am old and have grown children to succeed me.”

“You think your father and brother are not coming back?” Justin asked quietly.

“Hope refuses to die,” she said, her voice tight. “But I am not a fool. There has been no word since Baudin carried them off in chains. He might have had them shot and buried them in a shallow grave on the other side of the mountains. Or left their bodies to feed the crows.” Her voice caught and she ducked her head to hide the shameful tears.

Justin moved his mount so close to hers that the horses were almost touching, and stretched out his hand to clasp hers. He held it for a long moment before letting go and moving away. “I can only imagine how difficult this last year has been for you. But from what I’ve seen, you are doing admirably. Your father would be proud if he could see you now.”

“I’m trying to become the ruler San Gabriel needs. I don’t know what I would have done without Athena.” Sofia’s mouth twisted. “I rely too much on her. A year ago, the main thought on my frivolous mind was whom I might marry. Athena did her best to teach me more serious subjects, but I didn’t take those lessons seriously until Papá and Alexandre were taken. Now I listen when Athena teaches me how to carry the responsibilities of a queen.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “I suppose your father would have arranged a political marriage for you?”

“Since I wasn’t the heir, Papá was willing to let me choose my own husband within reasonable limits. I couldn’t marry a poor nobody, of course—it would have to be a husband who would bring some benefit to San Gabriel—but I would have had more choices.” She made a face. “Now I’ll likely have to marry some beastly grand duke with warts and three chins.”

Justin laughed. “Surely, there are better grand dukes than that!”

“I hope so!” Turning serious, she said, “How my husband looks is not important. What matters is finding a man who will not try to take over San Gabriel because I am a mere weak woman. I’ll marry Grand Duke Toad if he respects the fact I will be queen and this is
my
country. He will be my consort, not the king.”

“Such a man will be difficult to find,” Justin observed. “Men who are born to power often crave greater power.”

“I know.” She made an exasperated gesture with one hand. “And I don’t even know how to go about looking for a suitable husband! I will discuss it with Colonel da Silva when he returns to San Gabriel. He is an intelligent and worldly man. I’ll probably make him my chief minister. He will have some useful thoughts, I’m sure.”

“A prosperous foreign merchant who is uninterested in power would be a good choice in some ways,” Justin said softly as he glanced at her, his eyes intense. “But, of course, that would be impossible.”

Emotion pulsed between them, hot and demanding.
If I were free to choose, I would choose this man and never regret it.
The knowledge was vivid and undeniable. She would think it absurd, except that her mother and father had felt the same certainty when they met.

Perhaps love at first sight was a mark of the passionate Gabrileño temperament, except that Justin was British and she saw the same certainty in his eyes. Maybe that ability to love in an instant came from his Portuguese grandmother.

But her mother had been the well-dowered daughter of a Spanish nobleman, a good match in terms of worldly rank and wealth. Sofia was a royal princess with the weight of her small kingdom on her shoulders, while Justin was a foreign merchant. Though she was popular, most Gabrileños would be horrified by such a match. It would damage the country, and that she could not allow.

Trying to keep her tone light, she said, “Quite impossible, alas. I shall be required to wed one of the Archduke Toads of the world.”

“There are sometimes royal love matches. I hope you have one,” he said, his eyes filled with regret and acceptance. Turning back to the quinta, he remarked, “It appears that Señor Carnota has done a good job of rounding up neighbors.”

“That will save us some time,” Sofia said, hoping she sounded normal. Today’s oblique conversation was as close as she and Justin could come to discussing the impossibility of becoming more to each other. Her duty must come before personal happiness, and that reality hurt her heart.

Yet there was some comfort in knowing that he also cared for her. That comfort would have to be enough.