Adventure stories; Historical fiction; Love stories; Nobility -- England -- Fiction; Pirates -- Fiction; Regency fiction
Beauvallet folded his map, and put it safely away. There was a look in
his face that Joshua had seen there once or twice before. "Fear what
you will," said Sir Nicholas, "and let come what may. I tell you, by
this hand, I will reach Vasconosa, and have my lady away before she has
slept two nights in the place!"
CHAPTER XIV
Don Diego, accompanying his parents and his cousin to an evening party
at the house of Don Luis de Noveli suspected his cousin of going
only to meet the Chevalier. His mother was more than weary of these
suspicions, and would lend them no ear. "My dear Diego," said she,
before they had left the house. "The Chevalier shocks Dominica far
more than he fascinates her. I regard the coming of Tobar with more
misgiving."
"We shall have her fast at Vasconosa by then," he said, "and the knot
may well be tied before he can act. I would not put it beyond her to be
off with that tricksy Frenchman, if only to spite us all. I tell you,
señora, he was at her side more than half the evening at de Chinchon's
house last night, paying his court to her."
"How well you play the jealous lover!" admired his mother. "I never
knew you had it in you to hate anyone as you hate this conquering
stranger. It is most entertaining."
There is no doubt this young man had conceived a very violent dislike
for Sir Nicholas Beauvallet, and was at increasingly little pains to
conceal it. Maybe those blue eyes mocked too openly. Don Diego knew
himself for a very exquisite caballero, and it was evident Sir Nicholas
had no such notion of the matter. Sir Nicholas had a curl of the lip
that offended; he laughed for no apparent reason, and bore himself as
though there were few whom he considered worth the snap of a finger.
His careless eyes, with the laughter half stayed in them, looked
quizzically, as though he would say, "Do you want to fight me? Well, I
am ready for you, but I shall not wait upon you." He went abroad with
a light, swinging stride, as though he were very much at home, and the
very carriage of his neat head betokened arrogance. Don Diego burned to
let a little of this proud blood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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