His Counterfeit Condesa. Joanna Fulford

      Suddenly it was harder to breathe and her cheeks, so pink before, went pale. Impossible! It couldn’t be he! Of all the men in His Majesty’s army…Sabrina came out of her chair and darted a glance at Ward and then at Forbes but saw nothing in their expressions to contradict it. Dear God, what had she agreed to? The idea of walking the length of the street with this man was unappealing, never mind spending weeks in his company. The temptation to renege on her promise and walk away was almost overpowering. Then she thought of her father and took a deep breath.

      If Major Falconbridge had noticed aught amiss it wasn’t evident. Having observed the necessary social courtesies he got straight to the point.

      ‘I believe that you are to accompany me on this mission, Miss Huntley.’

      Somehow she found her voice. ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘I take it that you understand exactly what that entails.’

      ‘I understand.’

      ‘All the same, I should be grateful if you would afford me an opportunity for private speech later.’

      With an effort she kept her tone neutral. ‘As you will, Major.’

      In fact, Falconbridge had seen the fleeting expression of dismay when she realised who he was. Under any other circumstances such a meeting would have been most entertaining, but just now he felt no inclination to laugh. For a moment he had expected her to refuse point-blank to enter into the bargain, but then she had seemed to regain her composure. Forbes had apprised him of her situation and he understood now just how much her father meant to her. After their first meeting Falconbridge knew he must be the last man in the world she would ever have chosen to go anywhere with, let alone Aranjuez. He also knew that his memory hadn’t done her justice. From the beginning he had considered her attractive. Seeing her now he realised she was much more than that—spirited, too. However, looks and spirit were only part of it; she had other attributes. Ward had assured him of her linguistic ability in French and Spanish and of her usefulness to them in the past. It still hadn’t stifled his doubts. Yet somehow those documents had to be obtained and brought back for Wellington. Promotion and the release of John Huntley, though highly desirable, were secondary considerations.

      His thoughts were interrupted by General Ward. ‘You will complete your briefing today and leave for Aranjuez in the morning.’

      Sabrina’s heart lurched. So little time! Then she reflected that it might be better so; if she had more space to consider she might well refuse to go through with it. This man unsettled her too much. Such a mission required clear-headedness and a certain amount of detachment. The knowledge that she was failing in both areas only added to her mortification.

      Ward drew the meeting to a close shortly afterwards. Since Falconbridge was to be detained for a while he asked for directions to Sabrina’s present accommodation.

      ‘I will call upon you there very soon,’ he said.

      With that they said their temporary farewells and she and Albermarle left the room. For a while they walked in silence, but when they were away from the headquarters building he paused and drew her round to face him.

      ‘Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing, my dear? This mission truly is most dangerous.’

      She nodded. ‘I know but my mind is made up.’

      ‘Very well. It’s your decision, of course, but I cannot pretend that I like it.’

      The words stayed with her long after he had gone. Though her reply had sounded confident, she was far from feeling it. However, the die was cast. Unwilling to spend too long thinking about the possibly dire consequences of her actions, she turned her mind to the practicalities. She would need to speak to Jacinta and then the two of them would pack all the necessary items for the trip. Later she would talk to Ramon and Luis. It was all very well for others to commandeer their services for this mission, but it was not the usual low-key affair, nor were they soldiers being paid to risk their lives. They needed to know of the dangers and be given the chance to opt out if they wanted to.

      Jacinta listened impassively while Sabrina explained where she would be going. She did not go into details about why, since it was classified information, but only said that it concerned her father’s safety, an explanation that she knew the maid would accept without question.

      ‘Aranjuez?’ she said then. ‘I know of it, of course, but I have never been there. It will be interesting to see.’

      ‘It will also be dangerous, Jacinta. Are you sure you want to come?’

      The girl lifted one dark eyebrow. ‘Do you think you can prevent it?’

      Sabrina smiled ruefully. ‘I doubt it, but I wanted you to know what you’re agreeing to first.’

      ‘If it were not for your father I would be dead now. He saved me after French dragoons burned and looted my village, and gave me a place in his household. Never shall I forget what I owe to him.’ Jacinta’s dark eyes burned now with inner fire. Her face, too angular for beauty, was nevertheless arresting and it concealed a sharp brain. In her mid-twenties, she had been with the Huntleys for the last five years. Ordinarily she never spoke of the past and Sabrina did not pry, though she knew the broad outlines of the story. If Jacinta wanted her to know the details she would tell her.

      ‘I miss Father so much.’

      ‘I, also,’ Jacinta replied, ‘but he is a brave and resourceful man. God will surely help him to win through.’

      ‘I pray he may.’

      ‘Meanwhile, not everything can be left to God. We play our part too, no?’

      ‘As well as we can.’

      Jacinta turned towards the clothes press. ‘Then perhaps we should begin by relieving the Almighty of the task of packing.’

      They were thus engaged when a servant appeared to say that Major Falconbridge had just arrived. Sabrina drew in a deep breath. This had to be faced and it would be as well to get it over with.

      He was waiting in the small salon. Hearing her step he turned, watching her approach. For a moment or two they surveyed each other in silence. Then he made her a neat bow.

      ‘Miss Huntley. Thank you for receiving me. I am sure you must be busy.’

      She kept her expression studiedly neutral. ‘It is of no consequence, sir.’

      ‘I shall not keep you long, but there are things that must be said.’ He gestured to the open French windows that gave out onto the garden. ‘Will you oblige me?’

      As he stood aside to let her pass, she was keenly aware of the gaze burning into her back. It was one thing to be with this man in the company of others and quite another to meet him alone. It ought not to have bothered her; after all, the army had been a large part of her life. She was quite used to the company of men but none of them discomposed her like this one. But then none of them had his rugged good looks either, or that confoundedly assured manner. He had presence, no doubt about that. It was only enhanced by the scarlet regimentals; the jacket with its gold lacings might have been moulded to those broad shoulders. She had thought she was tall, until now. It gave him an annoying advantage since she was forced to look up all the time.

      It was warm in the garden, the sunlight brilliant after the relative gloom indoors. They walked a little way down the path between the flower beds until they came to a wooden bench. There he paused.

      ‘Shall we sit awhile, Miss Huntley?’

      She made no demur and watched as he joined her. His gaze met and held hers.

      ‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ he said. ‘I was not…am not…in favour of your coming on this mission. It is difficult and dangerous and certainly no place for a woman.’

      ‘And I am the last woman you would have chosen into the bargain.’

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