and far more desirable guest from his point of view—or, rather, allowed his chauffeur to drive them—about the beautiful Costa Brava coast. Sylvia Petersen was simply born to be driven in a limousine, and the marquis’s straight-backed, uniformed chauffeur—shut off from them by a glass partition—could do nothing to interfere with the hours of splendid isolation she passed with her host.
It was true that he frequently pressed Mrs. Duveen to accompany them on these drives, but Mrs. Duveen for some reason preferred to be left behind to be superbly lazy at the villa; and when the marquis asked Josie if she wouldn’t like to see more of the countryside—his countryside—Mrs. Duveen prevented her admitting that she would like to do so very much by saying immediately that she had rather a bad headache, and would prefer it if Josie remained with her. After that Josie continued to take the hint, and apart from accepting the use of another of the marquis’s cars to drive her into San Fernando for some essential shopping, and a solitary visit to the hairdresser, she saw little of the world beyond the villa gardens in those early days of her stay.
But one afternoon when Don Luis arrived at the villa and found her quite alone, she listened to some persuasive talking on his part and went off with him in a slightly rakish sports car which he drove rather recklessly. She didn’t find out about the recklessness until they started off, however, and she had no idea that the car—extraordinarily dilapidated to be the property of a close relative of a marquis—didn’t possess a hood. By the time she found out it didn’t seem to matter.
The marquis had taken the whole party off for a visit to Montserrat, and with the disappearance of his car Josie had felt more alone, and slightly forlorn, than she had ever felt in her life before. It was true that the marquis had really pressed her to accompany them.
There was plenty of room, he had assured her. The back of the huge car took five people with ease, and there was still room for two very comfortably in the space beside the chauffeur. And they would only be six if she went with them.
But Josie saw Sylvia Petersen’s apprehensive glance—possibly she thought it was bad enough to have Mrs. Duveen thrust upon her for the whole of the afternoon—and the thought of being wedged between her and Dona Maria, while the marquis sat on one of the occasional seats facing her (if he didn’t elect to sit beside his own chauffeur) was too much. So she gazed rather stonily at Josie, who, after all, was only someone employed by the Duveens, and Josie once again accepted the somewhat noticeable hint.
“No, thank you,” she said, very firmly, while the marquis gazed at her with a hint of vexation in his eyes (which, however, she didn’t notice). “You will be quite crowded enough without me, and I have some letters I must write.”
She spoke with her eyes on Michael, being made comfortable in his seat by Dona Maria, and the marquis looked over his shoulder and followed the direction of her gaze.
“Very well,” he said, and his voice sounded unusually curt. “If that is as you would prefer, then we will go.”
But she was a little surprised to notice that he took the seat beside his chauffeur, and he was gazing rather sternly ahead—not at all as if he were looking forward to the outing—when the big car glided away.
CHAPTER IX
She was still standing and trying to make up her mind to go in and begin her letters when Don Luis’ car came sweeping up the drive.
It had once been a very bright scarlet, but it looked a little tired in the strong sunlight, although there was no doubt about its capacity for speed. The roar of its engine actually startled Josie a little when it appeared round a bend in the drive, and she was about to retreat across the terrace when Don Luis sprang out and beckoned to her.
“ Senorita !” he called. “I beg you not to disappear. I wish to show you
It was true that he frequently pressed Mrs. Duveen to accompany them on these drives, but Mrs. Duveen for some reason preferred to be left behind to be superbly lazy at the villa; and when the marquis asked Josie if she wouldn’t like to see more of the countryside—his countryside—Mrs. Duveen prevented her admitting that she would like to do so very much by saying immediately that she had rather a bad headache, and would prefer it if Josie remained with her. After that Josie continued to take the hint, and apart from accepting the use of another of the marquis’s cars to drive her into San Fernando for some essential shopping, and a solitary visit to the hairdresser, she saw little of the world beyond the villa gardens in those early days of her stay.
But one afternoon when Don Luis arrived at the villa and found her quite alone, she listened to some persuasive talking on his part and went off with him in a slightly rakish sports car which he drove rather recklessly. She didn’t find out about the recklessness until they started off, however, and she had no idea that the car—extraordinarily dilapidated to be the property of a close relative of a marquis—didn’t possess a hood. By the time she found out it didn’t seem to matter.
The marquis had taken the whole party off for a visit to Montserrat, and with the disappearance of his car Josie had felt more alone, and slightly forlorn, than she had ever felt in her life before. It was true that the marquis had really pressed her to accompany them.
There was plenty of room, he had assured her. The back of the huge car took five people with ease, and there was still room for two very comfortably in the space beside the chauffeur. And they would only be six if she went with them.
But Josie saw Sylvia Petersen’s apprehensive glance—possibly she thought it was bad enough to have Mrs. Duveen thrust upon her for the whole of the afternoon—and the thought of being wedged between her and Dona Maria, while the marquis sat on one of the occasional seats facing her (if he didn’t elect to sit beside his own chauffeur) was too much. So she gazed rather stonily at Josie, who, after all, was only someone employed by the Duveens, and Josie once again accepted the somewhat noticeable hint.
“No, thank you,” she said, very firmly, while the marquis gazed at her with a hint of vexation in his eyes (which, however, she didn’t notice). “You will be quite crowded enough without me, and I have some letters I must write.”
She spoke with her eyes on Michael, being made comfortable in his seat by Dona Maria, and the marquis looked over his shoulder and followed the direction of her gaze.
“Very well,” he said, and his voice sounded unusually curt. “If that is as you would prefer, then we will go.”
But she was a little surprised to notice that he took the seat beside his chauffeur, and he was gazing rather sternly ahead—not at all as if he were looking forward to the outing—when the big car glided away.
CHAPTER IX
She was still standing and trying to make up her mind to go in and begin her letters when Don Luis’ car came sweeping up the drive.
It had once been a very bright scarlet, but it looked a little tired in the strong sunlight, although there was no doubt about its capacity for speed. The roar of its engine actually startled Josie a little when it appeared round a bend in the drive, and she was about to retreat across the terrace when Don Luis sprang out and beckoned to her.
“ Senorita !” he called. “I beg you not to disappear. I wish to show you
Similar Books
