Read Online The Flesh and the Devil by Teresa Denys - Free Book Online Page B

morning at
seven, and she will come to take you there before you have broken your fast.'
             
             
             
              Juana nodded grimly, fighting the sudden weariness that
threatened to overcome her suddenly. 'Very well. I expect I shall have need of
all the prayers I can muster if I am to meet the Duque tomorrow.'
             
             
             
             
              Eugenio de Castaneda had not lingered over supper but had
made his way quickly to the silk - hung salon he used as his study, beckoning
the leader of his personal guard. Riccardo Martinetti had shown distinct signs
of interest in the Senorita de Arrelanos, and de Castaneda was determined to
get confirmation of this. If it proved necessary, the young Italian's
susceptibility might be useful, he thought; as Luisa had implied, it did not
pay to be overconfident.
             
             
             
              She was a delicate creature, he thought, his fingers
beating a contemplative tattoo on the edge of his desk. It was almost a pity. .
. .
             
             
             
              He could see a trace of his thought reflected in the
Italian's sharp, pale face, and it made him smile; the regret flickered and
died. It had been a hard task to find the right bride for Bartolomé, he
thought, but this girl — as poor as she was proud, and as obscurely born as she
was beautiful — could not have been better for his purpose. Now that he had her
father's consent to the marriage, nothing could prevent it; and even when she
learned the full sum of what awaited her, the girl's pride would keep her
silent, as it had kept her from responding to his taunts on their journey. His
small eyes glinted with malicious satisfaction as he listened to Martinetti's
colourless phrases.
             
             
             
              'So you think my nephew is to be envied, mmn? Her lack of
fortune should not deter him?'
             
             
             
              'No man who has wealth of his own would hesitate, senor.'
             
             
             
              And as well for my plans that you have none, de Castaneda
thought benignly, and for an instant the Italian's eyes met his in the shared
thought in a moment of understanding. A tap at the door made de Castaneda look
up, grimacing.
             
             
             
              'Enter!'
             
             
             
              His voice rasped with sudden excitement, and the door
opened to admit Felipe Tristán. The candlelight glittered briefly on the golden
griffin embroidered on the black doublet and touched the red hair to a blur of
flame.
             
             
             
              'Welcome, Felipe, welcome. My nephew sleeps?'
             
             
             
              Tristán nodded. 'I have a letter here for you, senor.'
             
             
             
              The elder man almost snatched the extended paper. 'From —
?'
             
             
             
              The unfinished question seemed to hang in the air, and
Tristán gave another almost imperceptible nod.
             
             
             
              De Castaneda turned to Martinetti with an imperious snap of
his fingers.
              'You may go, Riccardo — we will talk again, tomorrow,
perhaps. Felipe, wait.'
             
             
             
              Tristán moved to one side for the small, slight Italian to
pass him, and then settled into a waiting pose, arms folded, with the studied
patience