Kitabı oku: «Counterfeit Bride»

Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COVER

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

ENDPAGE

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

‘YOU know something?’ Elaine Fairmont announced. ‘I’m really going to miss Mexico.’

Nicola looked up from the files she was packing into a carton, her lips curving in amusement.

‘What’s prompted this sudden, if belated, change of heart?’ she enquired. ‘I thought nothing in Mexico City could possibly compare with Los Angeles?’

‘Well, I’ve been giving the matter some thought, and I’ve decided that actually they have quite a lot in common,’ Elaine said solemnly. She began to count off on her fingers. ‘There’s the traffic and the smog—and the possibility of earthquakes—we mustn’t forget those. Of course L.A. isn’t actually sinking into a lake as far as I know, but the San Andreas fault could change all that.’

‘It could indeed,’ Nicola agreed, her eyes dancing. ‘I suppose there’s no chance that you’ll change your mind a step further and come with me on my sightseeing trip?’

Elaine shook her head. ‘No, honey. To me a ruin is a ruin, and who needs them? I’m no tourist, and besides, I’ve read about those Aztecs, and they had some pretty creepy habits. I’m not going back to L.A. with nightmares.’ She paused. ‘I suppose you haven’t changed your mind either?’

‘About returning to California with Trans-Chem?’ It was Nicola’s turn to shake her head. ‘No, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed working for them, but this contract was really just a means to an end—a way of letting me see Mexico.’ And a way of getting me as far away from Zurich and from Ewan as possible, she thought with a pang.

‘So, sign another contract and see the U.S.A.,’ Elaine suggested amiably. ‘Martin’s all set to fix you up with a work permit the moment you say the word, and all my folks are dying to meet you.’

Nicola smiled. ‘It’s very tempting, I admit. But I’m not sure where I want to work next time. I think it will almost certainly be Europe again.’

‘Then why not Spain?’ Elaine asked. ‘Your Spanish is terrific, thanks to Teresita’s coaching. It would be a great chance to make use of it.’

‘Perhaps.’ Nicola gave a slight grimace. ‘Actually I’d planned on finding somewhere a little more liberated next time.’

Elaine laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve gotten tired of all this guera preciosa as you walk down the street?’

‘I hate it.’ There was a sudden intensity in Nicola’s tone which made Elaine glance curiously at her before she returned to her task of feeding unwanted documents into the shredder. ‘It’s insulting. I haven’t any illusions about my attractions, such as they are, and I don’t need my ego boosted by meaningless compliments from total strangers. “Precious light-haired one” indeed! It’s not even a particularly valid description,’ she added, tugging at a strand of her tawny sun-streaked hair. ‘Surely you of all people can’t go along with this incessant reduction of women to mere sex objects?’

Elaine lifted a negligent shoulder. ‘It doesn’t really bother me. It’s harmless as long as you don’t take it seriously, or respond in any way, and I quite like being admired. The Women’s Lib movement isn’t the whole answer, you know. I’ve seen what it’s done to people—to my own sister, in fact. She was happily married, or she sure seemed to be until someone started raising her consciousness. Now she’s divorced, the kids cry all the time, and there’s endless hassle with lawyers about alimony, and who gets the car and the ice-box.’

Nicola closed the carton and fastened it with sealing tape.

‘That’s rather going to extremes,’ she said. ‘What I can’t get used to is the attitude here that a woman is just—an adjunct to a man. Industrially, Mexico is making giant strides, but there are some things still which haven’t changed from the days of the conquistadores—and that’s what I find so hard to take. Well, look at Teresita, for instance.’

‘I’m looking,’ Elaine agreed. ‘What’s her problem?’

‘Everything.’ Nicola spread her hands helplessly. ‘There’s this guardian of hers. She’s been sharing our apartment for three months now, and she still hasn’t told him. He thinks she’s living in that convent hostel, and from things she’s said, I gather even that was a concession.’

Nicola’s tone became heated, and Elaine smiled.

‘Calm down,’ she advised. ‘If there was ever anyone who doesn’t need our sympathy, then it’s Teresita.’

‘You mean because she’s actually going to escape from the trap?’ Nicola reached for another carton. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘No, that wasn’t what I meant,’ Elaine said drily. ‘Nor am I too sure she is going to escape, as you put it.’

Nicola put down the files she was holding, and stared at the other girl with growing concern.

‘But of course she will, when she marries Cliff. He won’t keep her chained up. Or are you saying you don’t think they will get married?’ When Elaine nodded, she burst out, ‘But that’s ridiculous! You’ve said yourself you’ve never seen two people so much in love. Why, she’s living for him to get back from Chicago, you know she is.’

‘Sure,’ Elaine said. ‘Teresita and Cliff are the year’s most heartwarming sight—but marriage?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Do you imagine that guardian of hers is going to allow her to throw herself away on a mere chemical engineer?’

‘Perhaps he won’t care,’ said Nicola. ‘After all, he doesn’t take a great deal of interest in her. He never comes to see her—which is just as well under the circumstances—and his letters are few and far between.’

‘True, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get good and interested if she plans to marry someone he doesn’t approve of.’

‘But why shouldn’t he approve of Cliff? Apart from being one of the nicest guys you could wish to meet, he’s well qualified, has a good job, and is more than able to support a wife.’

Elaine shrugged. ‘I have a feeling that he’ll need a lot more than that to be acceptable as husband material for Teresita. Just consider—since we’ve known her, how many paying jobs has she had?’

‘Only one,’ Nicola acknowledged. ‘The couple of weeks she spent here as receptionist.’

‘Right,’ said Elaine. ‘And were we surprised that other offers didn’t come her way—considering that as a receptionist she was a walking, talking disaster area?’

Nicola grinned, remembering the mislaid messages, misunderstandings, and interrupted telephone calls which had distinguished Teresita’s brief sojourn at the reception desk. No one had the least idea how she had ever got the job while the regular girl was on holiday, or how she had lasted in it for longer than five minutes, although Elaine had commented that the management had probably been too dazed by the whole experience to fire her.

‘No, we weren’t in the least surprised,’ she said, and hesitated. ‘But she does work.’

‘Social work—with the nuns—unpaid,’ Elaine pointed out. ‘And very estimable too. So, where does she get the money to pay her share of the rent, and buy all those gorgeous clothes that she has—all those little numbers from the boutiques in the Zona Rosa? Not to mention her jewellery.’

‘What about her jewellery? It’s rather flamboyant, but …’

‘It’s entitled to be flamboyant. It’s also real,’ Elaine said drily.

There was a small, shaken silence then Nicola said, ‘You must be joking.’

‘I promise I’m not. I have an uncle who’s a jeweller in Santa Barbara, and I spent some of my formative years learning to pick the fake from the real stuff. I’m not making any mistake.’

‘My God!’ Nicola put her hands to her face. ‘She lent me—she actually lent me her pearls that time we all went out to dinner.’

‘I remember,’ Elaine nodded. ‘They looked good on you.’

‘That isn’t the point,’ Nicola almost wailed. ‘Suppose I’d lost them—or they’d been stolen?’

‘You didn’t, and they weren’t, and they’ll be insured anyway,’ Elaine said reasonably. ‘But we’re getting away from the subject here. What I’m saying is that Teresita isn’t just a nice girl we met, who shares our apartment and cooks up the greatest enchiladas in Mexico. She’s also a rich lady, and if this guardian of hers knows what he’s doing, he’ll want to marry her money to more money, because that’s the way things are, so Cliff and she may have some problems. That’s all.’

It was enough, Nicola thought unhappily. She said, ‘Teresita’s of age, so there’s nothing to stop her getting married, if she wants to, and she does want to.’

‘Don’t sound so fierce! Okay, so she and Cliff are Romeo and Juliet all over again, and she is a very sweet gentle girl. No one would argue. But she’s led a very sheltered life. She was practically brought up by nuns, after all, and she’d still be living in that hostel if we hadn’t invited her to move in with us. I’m amazed that she ever agreed anyway, and she still trails round to the convent to see if there’s any mail for her each day because she’s scared her guardian may find out that she’s left—because basically she knows in her heart that if he cracks the whip she’ll jump, whether she’s of age or not.’ She paused, giving Nicola a quizzical look. ‘And if she dare not tell him she’s sharing an apartment in a good part of town with a couple of gringas, then just how is she going to break the news that she’s engaged to a norteamericano?’

‘It’s rather different,’ Nicola argued. ‘If he’d forbidden her to leave the hostel, she’d have been unhappy perhaps, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. But if he makes any objection to her marrying Cliff, then it will break her heart. She might have yielded to pressure over the apartment issue, but not over Cliff. I’m sure of it.’

‘Well, you have a touching faith in her will power which I don’t share.’ Elaine turned back to her paper-shredding. ‘I guess we’d better get on with the packing. The place already looks as if we’d moved out.’

‘Yes,’ said Nicola with a little sigh.

She hadn’t expected to enjoy her stay with Trans-Chem. She knew very little about the technicalities of chemical plants and their construction and was happy in her ignorance. She’d just been desperate for some kind of contract which would take her away from Zurich, and ensure that she wasn’t there to see Ewan marry the stolid blonde daughter of his company chairman.

Nor had she really expected to get the job, although she knew that the fact that she already spoke Spanish, garnered from an intensive course at the Polytechnic where she’d undergone her secretarial training, would stand her in good stead. Trans-Chem were after all an American company, and most of their personnel were recruited in the States, as Elaine had been.

But the job was offered to her, and she accepted with a growing excitement which helped to alleviate some of the pain and humiliation Ewan had made her suffer. She had fallen so deeply in love with him that it seemed impossible for him not to share her feelings. In fact, he did share them. He admitted as much, but it made no difference to his plans. Ewan intended to marry well, and a mere secretary earning her own living didn’t fill the bill as a potential bride at all. Although he did have other plans for her, as Nicola had shamingly discovered when finally he had been forced to tell her that his marriage to Greta was imminent.

She’d sat in the circle of his arms, feeling as if she’d been turned to stone, while part of her mind registered incredulously that he was telling her that his marriage needn’t make any difference, that it could even be an advantage. When the promotion which his future father-in-law had promised as a certainty finally materialised, then he would have Nicola transferred to his office as his own secretary. There would be business trips which they would make together, he’d said, and he would help her to find a bigger flat where they could be together as often as possible.

She sat there in silence, listening to his voice, to the confidence in it as he made his sordid plans, and wondered why he should have thought she would ever agree to any such thing, when they had never even been lovers in the generally accepted sense. She had often asked herself what had held her back from that ultimate commitment, and could find no answer except perhaps that there had always been a deep, barely acknowledged instinct which she had obeyed, warning her not to trust too blindly, or to give herself without that trust.

When she was able to think more rationally about what had happened, she knew she ought to feel relief that she hadn’t that particular bitterness to add to her disillusionment, but it had seemed cold comfort then, and still did.

She had come to Mexico determined not to make a fool of herself again, and her bitterness had been her shield, not merely against the Mexican men whose persistent attempts to flirt with her had at first annoyed and later amused her, but also against the mainly male American staff of Trans-Chem, many of whom would have shown more than a passing interest in her, if she had allowed them to.

Sometimes she wished she could be more like Elaine, who uninhibitedly enjoyed a series of casual relationships, and wept no tears when they were over. Nicola was aware that some of the men had privately dubbed her ‘Snow Queen’, and although it had stung a little at the time, she had come to welcome the nickname as a form of protection.

What she hadn’t realised was that some men, observing the curve of tawny hair falling to her shoulders, the green eyes with their long fringe of lashes, the small straight nose, and the wilful line of the mouth, would still be sufficiently attracted to find her determined coolness a turn-on, forcing her to an open cruelty which she wouldn’t have been capable of before Ewan came into her life.

‘My God,’ Elaine said once. ‘You don’t fool around when you’re giving someone the brush-off! Poor Craig has gone back to the States convinced he has terminal halitosis.’

Nicola flushed. ‘I can’t help it. I try to make it clear that I’m not interested, and then they get persistent, so what can I do?’

‘You could try saying yes for once.’ Elaine gave her a measuring look. ‘Whatever went wrong in Zurich, sooner or later some guy’s going to come along and make you forget all about it, only you have to give him a chance.’

‘Perhaps,’ Nicola said woodenly. ‘But I can promise you that it’s no one I’ve met so far.’

Probably there never would be anyone, she thought. She was on her guard now. Indeed, she had sometimes wondered if she would have fallen for Ewan quite so hard if she hadn’t been confused and lonely, away from home for the first time.

Travelling, seeing the world, had always been her own idea ever since childhood, and her parents, recognising the wanderlust they did not share, had given her the loving encouragement she needed. Her undoubted gift for languages had been the original spur, and she was fluent in French and German before she had left school.

Nicola wondered sometimes where the urge to travel had come from. Her parents were so serenely content on their farm at Barton Abbas in Somerset. It was their world, and they needed nothing better, no matter how much they might enjoy her letters and photographs and stories of faraway places. And Robert, her younger brother, was the same. One day the farm would be his, and that would be enough for him too. But not for her. Never for her.

Now, she wasn’t altogether sure what she wanted. Working for Trans-Chem had been more enjoyable than she could ever have anticipated. The company expected high standards of efficiency, but at the same time treated her with a friendly informality which she had never experienced in any previous job, and certainly not in Zurich. And they had been keen, as their contract to assist in a consultative capacity with the building of a new plant in Mexico’s expanding chemical industry began to wind up, for her to work for them in the States on a temporary basis at least.

Nicola didn’t really know why she’d refused. Certainly she had nothing better in mind, and there would have been no problem in fitting in her longed-for and saved-for sightseeing tour first. Yet refuse she did, and for no better reason than that she felt oddly restless.

Perhaps it was the anticipation of her holiday which was making her feel this way. The last months had been hectic, and the past few weeks of clearing out the office and packing up especially so.

She would miss Elaine, she thought. She’d been a little taken aback when she first arrived in Mexico City to find that she had a readymade flatmate waiting for her. How did she know that she and this tall redhaired Californian were ever going to get along well enough to share a home? And yet from the very first day, they’d had no real problems. And then, later, Teresita had made three …

Nicola smiled to herself. Had there ever been a more oddly assorted trio? she wondered. Elaine with her cool laconic humour, and relaxed enjoyment of life, Teresita the wealthy orphan, shy and gentle and almost morbidly in awe of the guardian she never saw—and Nicola herself, a mass of hang-ups, as Elaine had once not unkindly remarked.

In some way, Nicola almost envied Teresita. At least she had few doubts about the world and her place in it. Her upbringing in the seclusion of the convent school had been geared to readying her for marriage, and a subservient role in a male-dominated society. The purpose of her life was to be someone’s wife and the mother of his children, and she seemed to accept that as a matter of course.

Even her one small act of rebellion against her strictly ordered existence, her decision to move into the apartment with Nicola and Elaine, had contributed towards her chosen destiny, because without it, it was unlikely that her relationship with Cliff Arnold could have prospered.

They had met during Teresita’s brief but eventful spell at the Trans-Chem reception desk. Cliff had been one of many finding himself suddenly cut off in the middle of an important call, and he had erupted into the reception area looking for someone to murder, then stopped, as someone remarked later, as if he’d been poleaxed, as he looked down into Teresita’s heart-shaped face, and listened to her huskily voiced apologies. His complaints forgotten, he had spent the next half hour, and many more after that, showing her how to operate the switchboard.

As Elaine had caustically commented, it had improved nothing, but at least they’d had a good time.

Cliff had been a constant visitor at the apartment after Teresita moved in. He had adapted without apparent difficulty to the demands of an old-fashioned courtship, bringing gifts—bottles of wine, bunches of flowers, and once even a singing bird in a cage. Teresita sang too, all round the apartment, small happy songs betokening the inner radiance which showed in her shining eyes and flushed cheeks.

That was how love should be, Nicola thought, bringing its own certainty and security, imposing its welcome obligations. Perhaps it was the constant exposure to Teresita’s transparent happiness which was making her so restless. Not that there’d been much radiance about lately, she reminded herself drily. Cliff had been sent to Chicago for a few weeks and in his absence Teresita had drooped like a neglected flower. But he was due to return during the next few days, and Nicola was sure they would be announcing their engagement at the very least as soon as he came back.

That was if Teresita managed to break the news to her guardian, the remote and austere Don Luis Alvarado de Montalba. She seemed very much in awe of him, reluctant even to mention his name, but Nicola had still gleaned a certain amount of information about him.

He was wealthy and powerful, that went without saying. At one time, his family had owned vast cattle estates in the north, but later they had begun to diversify, to invest in industry and in fruit and coffee plantations, apparently foreseeing the time when the huge ranches would be broken up into smaller units and the landowners’ monopolies broken.

Not that any government-inspired reforms seemed to have made a great deal of difference to the Montalbas, she thought. They still owned the ranch, although its size had been reduced, as well as a town house in Monterrey where much of their industrial interest was concentrated, and a luxurious villa near Acapulco. Nicola gathered that Teresita’s father had been a business colleague of Don Luis, and this was why she had been assigned to his guardianship after her parents had been tragically drowned in a flash-flood some years before.

Clearly, his guardianship operated more on a financial and business level than a personal one. Teresita had admitted candidly that it was over a year since he had visited her, and she seemed more relieved than otherwise at this state of affairs.

Clearly he was the type of aloof and imposing grandee who would be incapable of putting a young girl at her ease, Nicola thought. Teresita always behaved as if even to talk about him was a form of lèsemajeste.

Nicola could just picture him—elderly with heavy moustaches, perhaps even a beard, probably overweight, pompous and arrogant. She hoped fervently that Elaine was wrong and he wouldn’t make an attempt to interfere in Teresita’s happiness. There was no reason why he should, she thought. Cliff was no fortune-hunter, even if he didn’t have the sort of wealth that the Montalba family had at its disposal.

She fastened the last carton, sealed and labelled it, then sat back on her heels with a sigh.

‘So that’s done. I could murder a cup of coffee. Do you think the machine’s still working?’

‘If so it’s the only thing in the building that is, apart from us,’ said Elaine. ‘In my next life, I’m coming back as a boss. You finish up here, and I’ll go see about this coffee.’

She was gone for some time, and Nicola guessed that the machine, never enthusiastic about its function at the best of times, had finally given up the ghost and that Elaine had called to buy coffee at the small restaurant a few doors away.

She wandered over to the window and stood looking down into the square. The noise of the traffic seemed muted in the midday heat and from the street below she could hear the plaintive strains of a barrel-organ. The organ-grinder was there most days, and she knew his repertoire almost by heart, but today the jangling notes seemed to hold an extra poignancy, and she felt unbidden tears start to her eyes.

She was being a fool she told herself. What had she got to cry about? She’d had a marvellous time in Mexico City, and within a few days she would be embarking on the holiday of a lifetime. Unlike Elaine she had always been fascinated by the history of the New World, and her tour had been carefully planned to take in as many of the great archeological sites as possible. She found herself saying some of the names under her breath—Palenque, Uxmal, Chichen Itza. Great pyramids, towering temples, ancient pagan gods—she’d dreamed of such things, and soon, very soon, all her dreams would come true. So why in hell was she standing here snivelling? She heard the outer door open and slam in the corridor, and turned hastily, smearing the tears from her face with clumsy fingers, hoping that Elaine would not notice or be too tactful to comment.

As the office door crashed open, she made herself smile.

‘You’ve been long enough,’ she began teasingly. ‘Did you have to pick the beans personally or …’

She stopped short, her eyes widening in disbelief as she studied the dishevelled, woebegone figure in front of her.

‘Teresita!’ she gasped. ‘Querida, what is it? Has something happened? Are you ill?’ Her heart sank as she saw Teresita’s brimming eyes. ‘Cliff—oh, my God, has something happened to Cliff?’

‘No,’ Teresita said. ‘He is well—he is fine—and I shall never see him again.’ And she burst into hysterical tears.

Nicola had got her into a chair and was trying to calm her when Elaine returned with two paper cups of coffee.

‘I guess I should have brought something stronger,’ she remarked as she put the cups down on the nearest desk. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I wish I knew.’ Nicola scrabbled through drawers until she came across a box of tissues in the last one. ‘All she keeps saying is that she wants to die, and begging our Lady of Guadeloupe to take her.’

Elaine raised her brows. ‘Clearly, she means business. Talk to her in Spanish, Nicky. She may make more sense that way.’

Nicola mustered her thoughts and said crisply ‘Stop crying, Teresita. If we can help you we will, but first we must understand why you’re so distressed.’

Teresita was still sobbing, but she was making an effort to control herself. When she spoke, Nicola could just make out the whispered words, ‘I am to be married.’

‘Yes, we know that.’ Nicola passed her another tissue. ‘To Cliff, just as soon as it can be arranged—so what is there to cry about?’

Teresita shook her head. ‘It is not so.’ Her voice was steadying, becoming more coherent. ‘Today I visited the convent to pray in the chapel for Cliff’s safe return. The Reverend Mother, she tells me there is a letter for me, and I see at once it is from my guardian, Don Luis. I read the letter. Madre de Dios, I read it and I wish only to die!’

‘You mean he’s forbidden you to marry Cliff?’ Nicola asked sharply.

‘He does not yet know that Cliff exists,’ Teresita said bleakly. ‘Always I have waited for the right time to tell him, because I feared his anger.’

‘Will someone please fill me in on what’s going on?’ Elaine demanded plaintively.

‘I wish I knew myself,’ said Nicola, hurriedly outlining the gist of the conversation so far.

‘It’s obviously this letter,’ Elaine said. She crouched beside Teresita’s chair, taking her hands in hers. ‘Hey, honey, what was in the letter? Does the mighty Don Luis want you to marry someone else? Is that it?’

Choking back a sob, Teresita nodded, and Elaine darted Nicola a sober glance which said ‘I told you so’ more clearly and loudly than any words could have done.

‘Tomorrow,’ Teresita said. ‘Tomorrow I must leave Mexico City and travel to Monterrey with Ramón. Later we shall be married.’

‘You and this Ramón? Just like that?’ Nicola demanded, horrified.

Teresita’s eyes widened. ‘Not Ramón, no. He is just the cousin of Don Luis. I met him once when I was a child.’

‘For heaven’s sake,’ Elaine muttered, and Nicola said hastily, ‘I’m sorry, darling, we’re trying to understand. But if Ramón isn’t the bridegroom then who …?’

‘It is Don Luis.’ Teresita’s voice was flat.

Nicola muttered ‘My God!’ and Elaine’s lips pursed in a silent whistle.

‘Nice one, Don Luis,’ she approved. ‘Nothing like keeping the cash where it belongs—in the family.’

‘It is what my father intended. I have always known this,’ Teresita said tonelessly. ‘But, as time passed, and he said nothing, I began to hope that it would never happen. A man so much older than myself, a man who has known so many women.’ For a moment, a world of knowledge that the good sisters had never instilled showed on the heart-shaped face. ‘I—I allowed myself to hope that perhaps he would choose elsewhere—perhaps even marry Carlota Garcia.’

‘Just who is that?’ Elaine asked.

Teresita gave a slight shrug. ‘A—a friend of his. Her husband was a politician. She has been a widow now for several years, and their names have been coupled together many times. A girl—one of the boarders at the convent—told me it was known that she was his—amiga. She said it was impossible that he would marry me because I was too much of a child for him, accustomed as he is to women of the world.’

Disgust rose bitterly in Nicola. Not just elderly and arrogant, but mercenary and a womaniser into the bargain.

She said hotly, ‘You can’t marry him, Teresita. Write to him. Tell him it’s all off. He can’t make you.’

Teresita almost cowered in her chair. ‘I cannot disobey.’ Her voice shook. ‘Tomorrow I must leave for Monterrey in Ramón’s charge. You do not know Don Luis—his anger—how he would be if I wrote him such a letter.’

‘But he must know that you don’t love him—that you’re even frightened of him,’ Nicola argued stubbornly.

Teresita sighed. ‘My mother would have said that it is a good thing to respect the man that one must marry—and that love can follow marriage,’ she added doubtfully.

‘When you already love Cliff?’

Teresita’s mouth quivered. ‘That was craziness, a dream. I must forget him now that Don Luis has spoken at last.’

‘Oh, no, you mustn’t,’ Nicola said forcefully. ‘Teresita, you can’t let yourself be pushed around like this. Your father may have intended you to marry Don Luis at one time, but if he was here now, and knew Cliff, and realised how you felt about him, I know he’d change his mind.’ She looked across at Elaine, who gave a silent shrug. She tried again. ‘Why don’t you and Cliff elope?’