A Stranger at Castonbury - By Amanda McCabe Page 0,38

him, his absence, his supposed death, his supposed wife, the near-collapse of the family fortune... He was responsible for delaying their happiness. And his father was still fragile, despite all his bluster. Jamie couldn’t just shout out, ‘There is my wife!’

No matter how much he wanted to.

But even more than his family, what held him back was Catalina herself. The frightened look in her eyes, the way she had trembled when he touched her. No matter how vivid his memories were, they had been apart for a long time. So much had happened since he last saw her. He had done so much he was not proud of. What had she been doing all this time? And how had she escaped the camp when so many had not? When she had known things others had not, because he had confided in her.

Jamie pounded his fist on the mantel. There was so very much they needed to talk about. Years’ worth. She was his wife, whether she wanted to be or not.

What was he going to do about that? What did she want from him now?

There was a brisk knock at the door, and he turned around just as Phaedra poked her head inside.

‘We’re all going in to dinner now, except for Mrs Moreno,’ she said. ‘Lily insisted she go straight to bed with some ridiculous posset Lily’s old Gypsy grandmother, Mrs Lovell, used to make.’

‘Mrs Moreno has retired?’ he said. He thought he sounded calm and indifferent but perhaps not, as Phaedra frowned as she looked at him. His sister often seemed as if she was completely distracted by her horses, but Jamie knew she was always most aware of everything around her.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Does that make you more or less inclined to come to dinner?’

‘Of course I am coming to dinner,’ Jamie said irritably. Dinner with his family and a gaggle of guests, all gaping at him like he was a creature in a menagerie, sounded unbearable.

And so did knowing Catalina was somewhere in the house and he could not be with her.

‘Then you may want to retie your cravat,’ Phaedra said matter-of-factly.

Jamie glanced down to see that his cravat was indeed still untied and the ring hung against his shirt. He laughed ruefully and got himself put together again. Once he looked somewhat respectable, he offered Phaedra his arm and they started towards the dining room.

‘It feels almost as if Castonbury has become a small Spain of sorts,’ she said. ‘What with you and Harry just now home from there, and Elena, and now Miss Westman’s mysterious companion. Most interesting.’

‘Can you even find Spain on a globe, Phaedra?’ Jamie teased.

She laughed. ‘Of course I can. They have the most astonishing Andalusian horses there. I would love to import some for Castonbury. Perhaps Mrs Moreno knows something about them. I must talk to her more.’

Jamie had the suspicious feeling that horses were not the only thing Phaedra wanted to talk about with Catalina. He needed to see his wife again and get some answers—soon.

Chapter Nine

‘I cannot tell you how happy I am you have come to Castonbury,’ Elena Montague said to Catalina in Spanish. They strolled together around the banks of the ornamental lake after an afternoon picnic. The others were still lying about in the shade, finishing the lemonade and the cook’s fine almond cakes, talking or napping. Phaedra led some of the visiting children about on a pony.

Lydia and another young guest were being rowed around the lake by Mr Hale, the handsome curate. She seemed to be having a good time, laughing at Mr Hale’s jokes and blushing, so Catalina was happy to spend an hour walking with Lord Harry’s wife.

Elena had obviously suffered a great deal in the wars in their homeland. Like Catalina she had lost her home and family and was trying to make a new start here. But she was very kind, with an engaging, easy manner that made Catalina feel at ease, not like a servant at the grand house. And it was very pleasant to speak Spanish again, to be with someone who understood so many things without the need of explaining a word.

It also distracted her at least a bit from thoughts of Jamie, from wondering what he had been doing since they parted and what he had been driven to in his work.

Catalina glanced from under her wide-brimmed hat at the house behind them. The windows gleamed back blankly, as if Castonbury itself watched her.