At the Spanish Duke's Command by Fiona Hood-Stewart

there?”
    â€œYes—yes, of course I’m here. That is—well, that’s wonderful news, Letti.”
    â€œYou don’t sound too delighted, querido .”
    â€œBut I am. Of course I’m delighted. I mean, it was my suggestion, wasn’t it?” he said, a bitter twist to his lips.
    Why on earth had he come up with the absurd notion of bringing forward the wedding? he asked himself bitterly. It seemed ridiculous now. Yet it was only a short while since he’d wanted to get married to Letti as soon as possible…to avoid the possibility of an affair with Georgiana!
    â€œWhen exactly were you thinking of?” he asked finally, trying to accustom himself to the idea.
    â€œI thought the first week in November seemed appropriate. It works well for me if it does for you. I’ll have less of a workload just then. You weren’t planning on a long honeymoon, were you?” Leticia asked anxiously.
    â€œUh, no. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your working schedule,” he said automatically. How could he possibly go on honeymoon with Leticia—make love to Leticia—when all the while he could think of nothing but Georgiana writhing deliciously in his arms?
    Damn, damn, damn. Dios mio , what a mess. Surely he was too old to be getting involved in anything so tasteless and absurd?
    After he’d placed the receiver back in its cradle, Juan rose impatiently and walked to the window of his large office overlooking Serrano. How could he possibly have imagined that Georgiana would get to him so much? Thatshe would touch a part of his being he’d believed buried with Leonora those many years ago.
    But she had.
    And now he was going to have to deal with the consequences of his folly. He hadn’t seen her since their return to Madrid—he had avoided the Castellana residence and stayed at his bachelor flat over the past few days. What was she up to? he wondered. And how was she feeling?
    For a moment he thought of phoning her. Then, remembering all that rested on his shoulders, he resisted. He simply must let her go—before he messed up more than just his own life.
    Â 
    Georgiana sat abstractedly through her Spanish literature class and dreamed of Juan. It was impossible not to remember the magical days they’d spent together at the finca . Even the arrival of her classmates for their dinner of paella had done nothing to counter the romantic haze in which she’d floated.
    Then she’d returned to Madrid, and reality had hit home.
    It was over. The fantasy weekend had been nothing but that.
    She and Juan had even tried to have a sensible, grownup conversation before returning to town, with Georgiana desperately attempting to appear nonchalant and sophisticated when all she’d felt was her heart wrenching inside. Suddenly, the thought of Juan in Leticia’s arms, which before then had been nothing but a remote concept, had been enough to render her breathless with agonising envy.
    Worse, Leticia herself had appeared today at the Madrid apartment, and Georgiana had been forced to smile and be polite while feeling a complete hypocrite. She’d agreed to fittings for her bridesmaid’s dress and listened to Leticia’s plans for the wedding. The final blow had hit when Leticiahad announced that, instead of taking place next spring, as initially planned, the wedding was to be next month.
    Doodling on her pad, Georgiana decided to go home after this class. It was impossible to concentrate on the adventures of Don Quixote and Dulcinea when all she wanted to do was go to bed, crawl under the covers and hide from the world.
    She was experiencing a plethora of new emotions so diverse she was hard put to it to keep track of them. They ranged from sexual satisfaction to shame at her own moral behaviour. Leticia’s presence in the apartment had brought her situation home with a bang. Instead of the happy fulfilled woman of hours earlier, she’d