Masquerade (24 page)

Lorenzo’s pale brows knitted together. ‘Doña Luz de Rueda, you said?’ He shook his head, perplexed. ‘I seem to recall that name.’

‘She’s sitting right opposite Alba at the table,’ Carlos told him.

Lorenzo turned and glanced over. Luz looked the other way. The last thing she wanted was for him to realize that she had been eavesdropping. She hoped he wouldn’t come over to introduce himself. Although Lorenzo had said nothing at their first meeting, she remembered the way his eyes had looked her up and down; she didn’t feel he was someone whose attentions she wanted to encourage.

‘Yes, yes, I remember now,’ she heard him reply warmly. ‘I met her very briefly a couple of months ago at my business partner’s offices in Cádiz. Yes, of course. Doña Luz de Rueda, a most arresting young lady. A real beauty.’ He seemed to be hesitating, a question hovering on the tip of his tongue.

Carlos, too, paused and then the smile was audible in his voice. ‘She is a good friend of my sister’s and an acquaintance of mine. Does that give you the answer you were looking for?’

‘May I pay my respects?’

‘Even if I had any designs on her myself, with you as a rival what chance would I have?’ Carlos laughed teasingly and gave his friend another slap on the back. ‘Go ahead,
amigo
. I’m sure she’ll be f lattered.’

Luz stiffened as she saw the young
torero
turn again to look at her. Carlos might be an old friend of the bullfighter but did he really think she’d be interested in such an obviously pompous and self-regarding young man?

‘You are very kind,
amigo
. I’m having a few friends over to dinner at La Fortaleza on the thirteenth, the night before my
corrida
, to mark the end of the festival. I hope you’ll all be able to come,’ said Lorenzo.

Carlos beamed. ‘I’ve been to your parties before, my friend, and I wouldn’t miss one for the world.’

‘Espléndido!
Nine o’clock. I’ll send you three invitations.’

Before Lorenzo could make his way over to Luz, a group of adoring fans gathered around the young
torero
, asking for autographs.

Luz quickly turned towards Doña Lilliana and started up a conversation. By the time Lorenzo had come over to her, they were deep in discussion about the cruelty of
corridas
. He placed a hand on her shoulder and because her nerves were still on edge from the stressful morning, she jumped and abruptly swung round in her seat.

‘Doña Luz, I’m sorry to interrupt. How wonderful to see you again. It’s been a long time, too long actually,’ he drawled, leaning over her, his pale-blue eyes searching her face intently, as though to say,
I know how attracted you are to me.

She suppressed the sarcastic comment itching on her tongue. Clearly the type of man who went around with a bevy of beauties tagging at his heels, he was not the sort to impress Luz.

‘Ah, Don Lorenzo. I’ve just been hearing all about your prowess in the bullring. Doña Lilliana Cortés here is an ardent fan of yours,’ she told him with a polite smile.

‘I have attended all of the
corridas
you’ve taken part in,’ Doña Lilliana gushed as she gazed adoringly at her hero. ‘Your fans are
very sad that you have … retired, so to speak.’

‘I am deeply flattered, Doña Lilliana,’ Lorenzo said in a suave voice, the conceited smile he flashed belying the humility of his answer. ‘You must come and watch me. I’ll be performing here in Pamplona on the last day of the fiesta. I can promise you a good
corrida
. The bulls from that ranch are well known for their boldness and courage.’ Then, addressing Luz again, he assumed a solemn air. ‘I hope to see you there, too, Doña Luz,’ he said softly, gently squeezing her shoulder. Luz pasted a gracious smile on her face, fighting the desire to shrug off his hand, once again thinking,
I dislike this man intensely.

At that moment Doña Lilliana was pulled to her feet by the boisterous young man on her left as another burst of singing erupted in the bar and a few revellers began dancing in a snaking line between the tables.

‘Lorenzo, are you flirting again? Really, I can’t leave you alone for one minute!’

Luz looked up at the sound of the velvety female tones to see Lorenzo’s sister appear beside him from the crowd. She looked stylishly cool in a navy polka-dot dress with a ruffled halterneck, her blonde hair neatly swept up into a sophisticated chignon. Luz felt decidedly underdressed in her black T-shirt and jeans.

‘Doña Adalia, how lovely to see you again,’ Luz said, not entirely welcoming the arrival of the blonde socialite but relieved, at least, that she wouldn’t be left alone with the preening matador.

Adalia tilted her head to one side. ‘Why, it’s Doña Luz, isn’t it?’ After the tiniest of pauses, she gave a dazzling smile. ‘How are you? Working hard on the book? Andrés tells me how committed you are. But of course you need a break from all that, so what better place to be? I’m sure Andrés can be a hard taskmaster when he wants to be.’

Before Luz could answer, Don Lorenzo said: ‘Doña Luz is staying with Carlos and Alba. You remember them …’

‘Oh, Carlos, yes, I’ve just seen him. He really is one of your nicest friends, Lorenzo. So entertaining!’ She turned to Luz again. ‘Lucky
you to be staying with him.’ Her pale blue eyes fixed on Luz intently. What confused Luz was how she so suddenly seemed perfectly charming and attentive compared with the relative coolness she had displayed in Andrés’ office. She didn’t quite know what to make of Lorenzo’s sister and she felt a little guarded as a result.

Adalia glanced at her brother and then back at Luz, smiling sweetly. ‘Is my brother trying to dazzle you with his charms, Doña Luz? He can’t resist a pretty face, you know.’ She then surprised Luz by giving her a conspiratorial glance. ‘Lorenzo, be a good boy and get us some more drinks, will you?’

‘Doña Luz and I were just …’

‘Oh, Doña Luz can spare you for a few minutes.’ She tapped his arm impatiently. ‘Besides, how are we ever to have any girl talk and get to know each other properly with you hanging around?’

Lorenzo arched an eyebrow at his sister and turned to Luz. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ he said, gazing at her apologetically as if he must be breaking her heart by leaving her side. Luz resisted the temptation to roll her eyes as he disappeared towards the bar. She hoped the smile she gave Adalia didn’t look too grateful; the brother and sister seemed very close and she wouldn’t want to give the merest hint how irritating she found Lorenzo.

Adalia took the seat that Doña Lilliana had vacated and sipped the last of her sangria. ‘I think my brother is quite taken with you, Doña Luz.’ She looked at her over the rim of her glass. ‘But then you must be used to having that effect on men …’

Luz shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her experience with men so far was a little too painful to contemplate. ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’

Adalia waved a perfectly manicured hand. ‘Oh, come on, you must have noticed how men look at you! You’re so gorgeous, it’s hard not to. Any man would be
madly
attracted to you.’ She gave a high laugh. ‘Lorenzo is clearly smitten. As for our dear Andrés, he can’t stop singing your praises. It really is getting rather silly. I told him that he needed to be a little more professional or it
wouldn’t be fair on you. After all, you’re trying to get a job done, which I’m sure you’ll do admirably. The last thing you want is your boss being f lirtatious.’

Luz flushed. ‘Andrés is just being charming.’ Silently adding to herself,
and it’s really none of your business.

Adalia arched a finely shaped eyebrow. ‘Yes, he’s very good at that, isn’t he?’

Luz glanced down at her glass. ‘Andrés is an ambitious, powerful man. I think charm goes with his job.’

‘Oh, I’m sure.’ Adalia stared at her again then her elegant lips broke into a smile. ‘Our family has a substantial number of Eduardo de Salazar’s artworks, you know, in our private collection. I’m sure you’d find it useful to see them for your book. You must come over to the house one day.’

Luz’s eyebrows went up in surprise. ‘Your private collection,’ she repeated. Why had Andrés not mentioned this himself? Wasn’t it a significant piece of information she should have known? No matter. Though she wasn’t about to admit her embarrassing ignorance of the Herrera collection, she had to concede that this would be very useful indeed for her research.

‘That would be fascinating, thank you,’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘The more of Eduardo’s originals I can study, the better.’

Luz hardly admitted it to herself but she was also curious about Adalia. She couldn’t help but be charmed by her despite her meddling tongue; she was also curious about the young socialite’s relationship with Andrés. Clearly Adalia felt proprietorial over him. That could be simply the protectiveness of an old friend, almost like a sister, but somehow Luz doubted it. Her heart gave an unpleasant squeeze at the thought of the intimate bond the two clearly shared. She was being ridiculous; why did this bother her?

Luz broke out of her thoughts and met Adalia’s smiling eyes.
They don’t miss a trick,
she couldn’t help thinking, a little uncharitably.

Adalia seemed quite genuine in her invitation, eager to have Luz visit their house: ‘It’s the least I can do to help. I don’t know if Andrés
told you but my parents were friends with Eduardo, though sadly I never met the great man himself. Our family is keen for your project to be a roaring success, too. From what Andrés tells me, with your talents we could well have a bestseller on our hands.’

Luz looked uncomfortable. ‘Gosh, I don’t know about that. I’m still at the research stage so it’s a bit soon to be making any predictions.’

Adalia was far more subtle and agreeable than her brother, but Luz still found that she couldn’t feel entirely comfortable around her. For one thing, it was hard to know how to react, other than awkwardly, to the young woman’s lavish compliments. Luz was much too down-to-earth for social gush. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for having branded Andrés’ friend patronizing and unfriendly. She would certainly accept Doña Adalia’s invitation to view the Herrera private collection; she just hoped that Lorenzo would not be around.

Adalia seemed intent on bringing the conversation back to Andrés. This time she gazed closely at Luz for a moment, a picture of solicitude. ‘You do look very tired. I hope that old tyrant isn’t working you too hard, Doña Luz. You must let me take you for lunch one day. We could go shopping, give you a break from the book. And from Andrés, too,’ she added, giving Luz’s arm a little squeeze. Adalia leant in to whisper in her ear, her eyes dancing mischievously. ‘I can tell you all about his wicked ways and how to avoid them.’

Luz thought back to the kiss on the beach and coloured a little. ‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll need any help on that score. Andrés has been professional throughout,’ she lied. ‘We’ve already had some very productive meetings and the project’s shaping up well,’ she added, trying not to think about just how unnerving those encounters had been. Then, not to seem rude, she thanked Adalia warmly. ‘Lunch would be nice, that sounds lovely.’

Luz took a sip of sangria and then, almost as if she couldn’t help herself, she asked nonchalantly: ‘Do you know much about his wicked ways?’ She sensed it was probably not a great idea to gossip
about her employer with one of his dearest friends, but she was curious to know more about the man.

Adalia’s eyes gleamed a little more brightly as she regarded Luz. ‘Oh, I like to think I have a special relationship with Andrés. I probably know him better than anyone. I’ve seen many women come and go, and he tires of each one sooner or later. Yes, I’ve learned something of his tactics by now.’

Before Luz could absorb this remark, or find out what those tactics might be, Adalia smiled an inscrutable smile and nodded over Luz’s shoulder. ‘Oh, look, I think those dancers are wanting you to join them, Doña Luz,’ she said, watching another line of people approach the table, one of whom reached for Luz’s arm.

As she was pulled from her chair and away into the crowd, Luz didn’t have time to stop and watch the smile fade from Adalia’s lips.

The week of festivities went by quickly with different activities taking place each day. There was the great San Fermin procession through the old part of Pamplona featuring a statue of the saint and the
gigantes
– huge papier-mâché puppet figures, twirling through the streets to the sound of loud traditional drumming music – sporting competitions, bullfights and fireworks every evening, all interspersed with drinking, singing, dancing and general merriment. Luz attended the parade of giants, and that of the picadors on horseback, with Alba and Carlos, and she watched the running of the bulls twice more. Whenever she got a moment to herself, she roamed the streets of Pamplona, her eyes always searching in the hope of bumping into Leandro but he was never anywhere to be seen. Their sudden meeting had taken the carefree and happy edge away from her holiday. She missed him dreadfully and ached for him every moment of the day. There was no doubt in her mind that the scales of love were tipped against her happiness. How had she managed to get herself in such a mess?

One night Carlos took Luz and Alba down to the lower part of the old city to watch the bulls for the next day’s run being driven from the reception pens on the outskirts and taken to the temporary corral in the Calle Santo Domingo, where they would spend the night. Luz was not particularly enthusiastic about going but to refuse would have been impolite.

They stood in a recess of a building waiting for the bulls to pass by. It was the dead of night when they heard the muted rattle of hoofs in the distance. Suddenly, the magnificent creatures loomed out of the shadows, a picador on horseback at their head. A shaft of silver moonlight fell on their glistening skins as they hurried on past. Their panting echoed eerily in the darkness as they went, leaving in their wake a waft of animal smell that was carried on the night breeze. The
peons
, their keepers, ran beside them armed with stone slings; agile young men with long hair who reminded Luz of Leandro. There was a nobility and dignity in their physical bearing so like that of the young gypsy that she was for a moment entranced. In seconds the ghostly convoy had gone, swallowed by obscurity, the drama ended.