Far From Home by Valerie Wood Page A

would want to sleep in my bed. ’E has said so already!’
    Edward felt sick. I need to get out. I need some air. But there was no chance of that. His plate was taken away and another brought, along with a dish of sliced turkey, goose, capon and spicy forcemeat balls, and his glass refilled with wine. He looked across at Rodriguez and found that he was watching him. Rodriguez raised his glass in a toast, a smile on his face, and Edward responded with his own glass though he found it difficult to smile.
    After the meal was over, the men moved to the drawing room and the ladies elsewhere. Port was served, malmsey and cigars offered. Rodriguez sought out Edward. ‘So very pleased that you could come to our little supper, Mr Newmarch.’ He shook Edward’s hand. ‘You seem to be getting on very well with our daughter. I haven’t seen her so animated in a long time.’
    ‘For such a young woman she is very lively,’ Edward agreed. ‘They have a great deal of energy at that age, do they not?’ He gave a weak laugh. ‘I remember I was much the same when I was young.’
    ‘Oh, but you are not so old!’ Rodriguez remonstrated. ‘Under thirty? Yes? A good age for a man.’
    ‘Maybe, but I have had such sorrow and adversity in my life to make me feel old,’ Edward asserted. ‘My wife—’
    ‘Yes. Yes. I do understand. But by coming to a new country you are already putting your old life behind you, are you not?’ Rodriguez leant his head back, drew on his cigar and blew smoke rings in the air. ‘What you need, Mr Newmarch, is a helping hand.’ He gazed thoughtfully up at the ceiling. ‘Perhaps a leetle business coming your way? Some good connections. A new lady in your life?’ He smiled at Newmarch. ‘All of this can be arranged.’
    The doors to the dining room were opened and the gentlemen were invited back in. The table and chairs had been cleared and the room transformed into a ballroom. A small orchestra was in place and playing a soft air, and as the gentlemen entered through one door and the ladies through another they struck up with music for dancing.
    Sofia appeared at Edward’s side. He gazed at her. She was so breathtakingly beautiful. He gave a deep bow. Her skin was flawless. A touch of carmine on her lips gave them a moist seductiveness and her eyes gleamed beneath dark lashes. She was dressed in a rose-coloured gown which emphasized her small waist and revealed her bare shoulders. In her dark hair she wore a glittering comb and he could smell her perfume. She drew her fan to her face and leant to whisper to him.
    ‘Elena speaks very well of you, señor. She does not often approve of the gentlemen she meets.’ She almost touched his ear with her lips as she spoke and he caught his breath and didn’t answer, but turned to hold her eyes with his. Are there other women like her in this country? he wondered. Eligible women, of course. If there are, then I will surely succumb to their charm and beauty. I’m a mere man. I cannot possibly resist.
    ‘Would you care to ask me to dance, Meester Newmarch, or shall we sit and talk?’
    Not talk, he decided. The conversation will inevitably drift towards the subject of Elena and I must avoid that at all costs. ‘I would be delighted if you would care to dance, señora.’ And I can put my hand on her waist and breathe in her perfume. It will be so good to feel a woman next to me again.
    He looked down into her eyes. He desperately wanted to flirt with her, to whisper to her how beautiful she was, but he held back. He was so sure that he could feel Rodriguez’ penetrating eyes on him and he could not, dared not, risk his displeasure.
    ‘We would like to know you better, Meester Newmarch,’ she said softly. ‘Would you care to visit with us at our plantation in the country? We ’ave a nice ’ouse there. Sometimes we like to get away from the city. Otherwise, it is always business, business, business.’ She tapped his arm with her fan. ‘I will travel