Page 22 of Masquerading with the Duke
Martina smiled. ‘And we can’t have that.’
‘Enjoy the day, my love,’ Ariana said, squeezing Martina’s arm. ‘Take some time to relax and reflect and only go as far as the lake if you can be bothered. It’s going to be very hot again.’
‘The summers we had as children were like this. I thought they would never end. But I don’t think I will ever be too hot again. Not after…’
‘I understand.’ Ariana stood and kissed the top of Martina’s head. ‘I shall see you later. Do come up to the nursery if you run out of things to do. The children will enjoy your company.’
‘Thank you. I shall.’
‘We must dine with the family tonight. The duchess will insist.’
‘I wish she would not. I feel as though I am imposing.’
‘So did I to begin with, but now I rather look forward to relaxed adult conversation after my days with the children. It helps me with my English, too.’
‘I shall come down, if it’s expected of me, and play my part but you will have to lend me a gown. Most of my things are still…’
‘We will have them sent for if you are determined not to return to your post.’
‘I am being a most terrible nuisance.’ Martina struggled to hide her distress. ‘I must seem so ungrateful, and yet you haven’t asked any questions.’
‘Nonsense! You need never go back if they were unkind to you.’ Ariana grasped Martina’s hand. ‘I know you almost as well as you know yourself and am satisfied that you would not have walked away from your position without very good reason.’
The girls hugged, but Ariana’s words of comfort only served to increase Martina’s guilt, making her wonder if she had unintentionally given Redrow encouragement and was somehow to blame for his expectations. She dredged her memory and could think of several occasions upon which he had engaged her in lively conversation about Spain; a subject upon which she always became passionate. He had been attentive and sympathetic, but perhaps he had misconstrued the passion she felt for the land of her birth…
‘Now then, I must attend to my duties. Will you be all right?’
‘Of course. Don’t worry about me.’
She would be a very ungrateful guest if she couldn’t find a way to occupy herself on this opulent estate, Martina thought once Ariana had rushed off and she was left to her own devices. Except that she wasn’t precisely a guest. Her status in this household was ambivalent. She was treated with respect by the servants, who referred to her as Miss Martina, but she was also considered part of the family by every single member of it. Well aware that the Sheridans were as gracious as they were unconventional, Martina decided that she might as well make use of her unexpected freedom on a lovely day when she had no responsibilities and take the opportunity to reflect upon her future. Ariana deserved an explanation and Martina also needed to decide how much to tell her.
She was about to wander outside, but paused when she observed Mr Braden riding a spirited and very unusually coloured stallion in the schooling ring under the watchful eyes of the duke and Lord Amos. She felt a moment’s anxiety, having seen that particular stallion throw more than one of the stable lads during the course of his training. She continued to watch and it soon became apparent that Mr Braden was more than a match for the lively horse, slowly and patiently bringing him under control. Lord Amos then mounted his own horse and the two men rode away from the estate with Mr Braden’s dog running alongside.
Martina should have been pleased that Mr Braden had left. He was a friend of Mr Redrow’s and was therefore not to be trusted. And yet for reasons she was unable to fathom, she did trust him. It was an instinctive feeling, and her thoughts had returned to him several times since their brief meeting the previous day, her curiosity piqued.
Recalling her promise to collect more tadpoles, she went off to the kitchen to find a jar. Kitted out with the requisite equipment, she decided against a bonnet and strolled towards the lake at a leisurely pace. Her path was shaded by the overhanging branches of ancient oak trees but sunshine filtered down through the leafy canopy, dappling the ground beneath her feet in moving shadow. Martina walked slowly and turned her face up to greet the sun, not caring if her complexion freckled. She had heard nothing but complaints about the heat from the English, who were unaccustomed to it. But Martina welcomed the reminder of her native Spain, never having felt truly warm since she’d arrived in England.
Her meandering thoughts of happier times when her family had been all together, with no hint of the horrors that would soon be visited upon them daring to intrude, had her both smiling and feeling close to tears. It didn’t do to keep dragging up a past that could never be reclaimed; she knew that very well. But memories were all she had to sustain her, and they were a useful distraction from the situation she had left behind at Mrs Redrow’s establishment. She knew there would be repercussions and could only hope that she hadn’t inadvertently repaid the duchess’s kindness by causing her inconvenience and the hint of possible scandal.
Martina would miss the girls whom she had been employed to instruct in Spanish. They were lively and good natured young women, but had not been diligent in their studies, running rings around their harried governess. Martina had been assured that they were proficient in French but had found their abilities in that regard woefully inadequate and took it upon herself to rectify the situation.
They knew shockingly little geography or history either, and struggled to add up a simple column of figures. They took an interest only in the comings and goings of the sons of well-to-do local families and in fashion; the latter being a subject upon which they could talk endlessly and knowledgeably. They avidly studied their mama’s copies ofLa Belle Assemblée,then rushed to their local seamstress, determined always to be clothed in up-to-the-minute style. Given what Martina had been through this past year, their ambitions seemed shallow.
Their mama didn’t set much stock by females being well educated. Gentlemen felt threatened by well-read females, she had told Martina on more than one occasion, which made Martina wonder why her specialist skills had been engaged. Mrs Redrow insisted that her daughters would be better advised always to look their best and never waste an opportunity to display themselves to their best advantage in front of potential husbands.
‘Perhaps it is different in Spain, but gentlemen are wary of ladies who are too well informed, dear Martina,’ the eldest Miss Redrow solemnly decreed when Martina once asked her why she had so little interest in education.
‘It is our duty to appear pretty and amusing but not to speak about anything more taxing than the weather,’ added the second.
‘No one in society speaks of anything serious,’ said the third. ‘It is quite frowned upon.’
The Redrow estate was small but there was no shortage of funds, and all three girls appeared to have limitless allowances. They spoke breathlessly of being presented, having the best come-out balls and outdoing all the other young ladies in their respective seasons. They were giddy with anticipation about situations that would terrify Martina and make her feel as if she was a commodity in a shop window being examined for imperfections.
Martina arrived, warm and slightly out of breath, in the clearing that housed the huge lake, its sparkling turquoise surface barely disturbed by the suggestion of a breeze. The sight of it gave her considerable pleasure, the tranquil location filling her with a sense of wellbeing that she’d been unable to replicate anywhere else.
She recalled her task, but decided that the tadpoles could enjoy a little more freedom before she got her feet wet in an attempt to capture them. Instead, she glanced at the boathouse. Her earlier reflections about the land of her birth had reminded her of her countrymen’s sensible adherence to the siesta system. It was too early in the day, the sun was not yet at its highest, but Martina was playing by her own rules today. She hadn’t slept well, had woken with a slight headache, and the walk in the sunshine had drained her reserves of energy. No one would be expecting her anywhere; a rare opportunity that she fully intended to exploit.
Martina let herself into the boathouse. Its interior was agreeably cool. She settled down on the daybed beneath the window and closed her eyes. She would rest for a while and try to decide what to do about…well, everything.
