The Society Bride. Fiona Hood-Stewart

she was stupid. ‘But then Grandfather seemed increasingly unwell and I didn’t feel I could abandon him.’ She stopped and shrugged, then smiled up at him through long thick lashes. ‘He doesn’t seem any better lately, and I don’t want to make him unhappy.’

      ‘But of course you must go to university,’ Ramon replied. Part of him was shocked that her future might be compromised. The other part, the part that didn’t want to recognise just how attractive he found her, thought how appealing it was that in this day and age, when most women he came across thought only of their own wellbeing and personal ambition, she should place her grandfather first. Which, in turn, reminded him of all the pain she was going to experience when she learned of his terminal illness.

      ‘Maybe one day I’ll be able to go to college,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘I’d really like to. But please,’ she said, her brows creasing suddenly, ‘promise you won’t tell Grandfather? I would hate for him to be upset or worried.’

      ‘Of course I won’t say anything. Anyway, it’s none of my business. Still, it seems odd that he won’t—’ Suddenly Ramon remembered. Of course Don Rodrigo didn’t want her out there, in the midst of people over whom he had no control. ‘Where were you accepted?’ he asked.

      ‘Oxford and the Sorbonne.’

      He looked at her, brows raised. ‘That’s pretty good.’

      ‘You seem surprised,’ she countered, challenging him. ‘I suppose it’s because I’m a woman?’

      ‘Guilty,’ he said, a new and delicious twinkle brightening his eyes. ‘I’m afraid I’m not used to coming across women who are as lovely as you and yet who are obviously also highly gifted and intelligent.’

      Nena’s cheeks flushed and she looked quickly away. ‘Oh, I’m not really that bright. I just like studying, that’s all. There’s the wood,’ she mumbled hastily.

      ‘What about your boyfriend?’ he probed. ‘Does he want you to go to university?’

      ‘Boyfriend?’ Nena frowned again, then laughed, a natural spontaneous gurgle that left Ramon swallowing. ‘Oh, I see. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Well, I have friends, of course, like Jimmy Chandler and David Onslow at the tennis club, but that’s different.’

      ‘And have none of them ever tried to kiss you?’ he asked in an amused, bantering tone, unable to resist the temptation of finding out more about this alluring creature to whom he was becoming increasingly drawn, despite the strange situation they were in.

      ‘Oh, Lord, no—they’re just pals.’ Nena gave an embarrassed shrug and their eyes met as they reached the edge of the wood. ‘This is the wood. Do you want to see it?’

      ‘Honestly?’ His eyes flashed wickedly.

      ‘Honestly,’ she responded, lips twitching.

      ‘Honestly, I have no interest whatsoever in seeing your wood—though if it is half as charming as its owner I suppose I should.’

      ‘Oh, shut up.’ She giggled, feeling now as though she’d known him a while. ‘That’s totally silly.’

      ‘Why don’t we sit over there by the lake for a few minutes and relax?’

      ‘All right.’

      They walked back across the bridge and down to the water’s edge. ‘Here, let me lay this on the grass; it may be damp,’ he said, spreading out his jacket for her, trying to sort out the conflict raging in his mind.

      ‘Thanks.’ She sat on part of the jacket, leaving room for him, and he lowered himself next to her.

      ‘Tell me, what’s it like living with your grandfather?’ he asked suddenly, throwing a pebble spinning into the still waters of the lake.

      ‘I love him dearly. I mean, of course at times it’s a bit restrictive, but I need to look after him. That’s why I didn’t tell him I’d been accepted at Oxford, or he might have changed his mind and felt obliged to let me go. Then there would have been no one to look after him.’

      ‘But surely the staff would take care of him?’

      ‘Yes, but that’s not the same at all,’ she dismissed, raising her lovely determined chin. ‘Lately he seems to be so frail. I can’t quite explain it, but…’ She hesitated and pressed her fingers together, a sudden frown creasing her brow. ‘I’m just being silly, I suppose, but it worries me.’ She looked up and their eyes met. ‘Your parents seem so nice,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Do you live with them or on your own?’

      ‘Oh, on my own. I have several houses—my hacienda, a loft in Puert Madero in Buenos Aires. In London I stay at my parents’ place in Eaton Square, though. Quite a change,’ he added, aware that he could hardly tell her that he shared his life with Luisa, his official mistress, and on occasion a smattering of models, who drifted in and out. Luisa was not officially in-house, of course, but it was an ongoing relationship. And although she knew he had no intention of marrying her—she was twice divorced—they had a very pleasant time together.

      Which brought him back to the matter at hand. What would happen to Luisa if, by some twist of fate, he decided to accept Don Rodrigo’s proposition?

      Ramon glanced down at Nena once more. She was lovely, and unaware of it. Just as she was unaware of what awaited her just around the corner. Her grandfather’s death would shake her for ever from the safe cocoon she’d lived in all her life. It would be harsh and painful, he realised sadly. For as an only grandchild she was probably even more protected from the world than if her parents had been alive. Also she’d have no one—except some friends and her financial advisors—to turn to. Perhaps, he reflected sombrely, Don Rodrigo was not so wrong to want to protect her from all that might be waiting for her out there. All at once Ramon shared the old man’s fears for her.

      ‘Maybe we should be getting back,’ he said abruptly, glancing at the thin gold watch on his tanned wrist. ‘My parents will be wanting to leave soon.’

      ‘All right.’ She jumped up and he picked up the jacket, throwing it over his shoulder again as they made their way back to the group on the lawn.

      It was odd, he reflected, that a plan which only an hour ago had struck him as absolutely preposterous now seemed considerably less so. Plus, as both Don Rodrigo and his father had pointed out, it was a marriage, not an affair. He was thirty-two, and would have to think of marriage and a family shortly anyway. Wouldn’t it be infinitely preferable to be married to a lovely creature like Nena, whom he could mould to his liking, teach the art of love, yet continue enjoying the Luisas of this world on the side? he reflected somewhat ruthlessly. All in all, having a beautiful, well-mannered society wife, whom he could take pleasure with in bed from time to time without changing his routine, might not be such a bad thing after all.

      ‘My love, I have something I need to speak to you about,’ Don Rodrigo said to his granddaughter the next evening over dinner.

      ‘Yes, Grandfather?’ Nena looked at him closely. He seemed very tired. In the past few days he had barely left his room, except to sit on the lawn yesterday afternoon with the Villalbas. ‘Is something wrong?’ she enquired anxiously.

      ‘After dinner we shall retire to the study and have a chat,’ he said, knowing the moment had finally arrived when he must tell her the truth.

      Since the acceptance that morning of the proposition of marriage by Ramon Villalba he had known it was essential she learn about his illness and what the future held, however painful.

      Don Rodrigo sampled a tiny spoonful of chocolate mousse. It turned bitter on his tongue. He had faced many hard moments in his life, but telling this child whom he loved so dearly that the end was near would rank among the cruellest blows life had dealt him. His only solace was that Ramon Villalba had, for whatever reason, accepted his proposition.

      Half an hour later, seated as always on the tapes-tried footstool at his feet, Nena listened in anguished horror to