Beyond the Sunrise by Mary Balogh

villa that fronted on the street. Captain Blake followed it through, ducking his head beneath the arch, which was not, after all, as low as it looked. He dismounted and waited to help the lady from her carriage.
    â€œCaptain,” she said, setting a white-gloved hand in his as he helped her to descend. She looked as fresh and cheerful as she had when they had left Torres Vedras that morning. “Welcome to Obidos. You must stay here tonight.”
    He cringed from the thought. He would never be comfortable in what was obviously an opulently appointed villa. And never comfortable under the same roof as the marquesa.
    â€œThank you, ma’am,” he said, moving to one side as the coachman handed her companion from the carriage and she bustled inside the house, “but it would not be fitting. I shall find an inn.”
    â€œAnd spend half the night fighting off fleas and other vermin?” she said with a shrug. “But the choice is yours. Come to dinner at least. You really must. I have only Matilda to dine with otherwise, and we said all that was to be said to each other long years ago. You must come and entertain us with your conversation, Captain.” Her eyes mocked him in an expression he was becoming familiar with.
    And she had him at a disadvantage again, he realized. Almost any gentleman of his acquaintance doubtless had a whole arsenal of excuses that might be dipped into on such an occasion. He had nowish to dine with the marquesa and her silent, disapproving companion. And of course he had no conversation to share with them. She knew that very well. And he did not doubt that that was the very reason why she had invited him. She seemed to delight in setting him up to look like a big dumb ox. But he could think of not a single excuse.
    â€œThank you, ma’am.” He nodded curtly and turned away to his horse. But a thought struck him, and he turned back again. “May I escort you to the house?”
    She smiled slowly. She loved to observe his not knowing what was quite good etiquette. “I believe I can walk alone between here and the house without being set upon by brigands or worse, Captain,” she said. “Until later, then. Come early. Come in one hour’s time. Not a moment later. I hate to be kept waiting.”
    He bowed awkwardly and turned away. And felt her eyes on him as he mounted and guided his horse across the courtyard and through the doorway out onto the steep, narrow street.
    Joana watched him go and smiled to herself. Any other man she knew would have taken advantage of every possible opportunity that had presented itself during the past two days. He would have ridden in the carriage and tied his horse behind, or at least ridden alongside the carriage and encouraged her to drive with the window down. He would have taken her up before him on his horse more times than the one that had been forced upon him. He would have tried to wangle an invitation from her friends at Torres Vedras. He would have leapt at the chance to stay here at her villa tonight. He would not have looked as if he were drowning in quicksand when she had invited him to dinner.
    But Captain Blake was not any other man, unfortunately. Oh, and fortunately too, she thought, her smile growing more amused. She might have saved herself the trouble of coming all the way from Viseu and of returning with his escort, for all she had accomplished so far. Was there a more silent or a more morose man—or a more attractive one—in existence? She was going to have to do somethingvery positive and very fast if the worth of this tedious trip was to be salvaged. She walked purposefully toward the house.
    â€œMatilda,” she called to her companion, who was fussing over their bags in the hall, “leave that to the servants. You are banished. Totally and completely. I have not forgotten, you see, that you have a sister in Obidos and that you see far too little of her. You are to take yourself