"Capitán? Capitán, you must wake up!"
Diego opened one eye to see Carlos hovering over him like some mother hen. What the devil was he doing in his bedroom? As the memories of the previous nights activities came flooding into his consciousness he turned his head sharply to see Cherie curled up against his side and sure enough, the puppy was right beside her. No, he would not think about what had happened after leaving the parlor. He would not acknowledge the other man in his bed, beside his woman. Was that Étienne's hand on his. . .
Jumping out of the bed, he turned to Carlos heedless of his very naked state. "What is it?" he growled.
To his credit, Carlos didn't even attempt to look towards the bed. In fact he looked far too preoccupied and agitated, which was not a good sign. "You have to come downstairs, Capitán." Carlos may not have looked toward the bed, but his voice never rose about an urgent whisper.
"Meet me in the front parlor," Diego growled shrugging into a robe thrown across the end of the bed. Feeling a bit snug across the shoulders he looked down at the garment. But of course it was the puppy's. Pulling the thing off again he glanced around the room summarily putting from his mind the clothing strewn about on the floors. Where the hell was his robe?
"Uh, mi Señor Duque, there are guests in the parlor," Carlos stammered.
"Guests?"
It was practically the crack of dawn, who could possibly be paying a visit? His first thought was Claude, Luc or some other member of Cherie's irksome family. Perhaps there was word on the whereabouts of Agathe. Absently he waved his personal secretary away.
"Fine, make sure they have refreshments and let them know I will be down soon." Well he probably wouldn't be going back to bed now. He might as well dress for the day. "And find my valet. I am going to need a shave." And a bath, but a quick wash would have to do for now.
Noticing Carlos still had not moved he lifted and imperial brow. "Was there anything else Carlos?"
"Err, you guests Señor."
"Yes?" This was getting tedious.
"It is the governor and your former wife."
*******
Diego was seething by the time he made his way to the parlor over an hour later. Let them wait, he fumed to himself. Dressing meticulous in full dress uniform complete with saber, he strode into the room every inch a royal duque and captain of the Spanish Armada, a fidgety Carlos at his side. He be damned if he would be cowed by a viscount and his overly pious ex-spouse. Walking over to the fireplace mantle he faced the tiny crowd arrayed before him arching, an imperial brow at every one of the five people assembled in front of him. Governor de Gálvez, his beady eyed secretary, Maria-Teresa and her duena Ana, and slightly frightening looking woman swathed in black from head to toe, remained seated at his entrance.
"Carlos," he drawled, "is there anyone in this room besides my dear wife who outranks me?"
"No, Señor."
Three of the four promptly rose to their feet. Maria-Teresa remained seated and the mystery woman was already standing behind his fomer wife.
"Ah, much better." Diego crossed his ankles while motioning for everyone to return to their seats. "To what do I owe the honor of just an early morning house call?"
He had looked directly at the governor while speaking. The impertinence of the man intruding on his private residence at this hour was astounding. One would think after their little test of wills yesterday, de Gálvez would be far more prudent. At least the man's secretary had the common sense to look frightened. The governor looked – triumphant. Well that just would not do at all.
"I did not think there was an appropriate time to seek out my husband," Maria-Teresa spoke for the group in her soft-spoken manner. One had to literally strain to hear her. "Since you would not come home to Spain, I came here to you."
As if that explained everything. Turning to face her, Diego had to fight to stay on his best behavior. His dear wife had no great desire to see him anymore than he had to see her.
"We are no longer married, my dear. And how is your father?"
She had the grace to blush and looked down at her hands which were firmly clasped together in her lap. He could have sworn her ever-present duena cracked a faint smile. But that would be impossible. The sour faced woman did not laugh or even deign to smile. Surely if she did so, her face would shatter in a thousand little pieces.
"Señor," de Gálvez began only to be cut off by Diego at his most haughty.
"You may call me Señor Duque, Vizconde. Or do you prefer Governor?"
The governor quickly looked to Maria-Teresa, but finding no support there, he quickly switched tactics.
"Excuse me, I meant no disrespect."
Diego inclined his head and waved for the governor to continue.
"I would never dream to interfere with your personal affairs, but on this matter I felt I have no choice but to step in."
"I would tread wearily if I were you," Diego responded softly, lightly caressing the sword at his side.
In any other situation Diego might have been impressed by the man's bravado. At the current time, however, he was in no mood to be charitable. With Cherie and the puppy upstairs, some maniac woman looking to do God knows what to his lover and mother of his unborn child, and now his singular cause of the worse two years of his entire life (no doubt at the behest of the king) sitting in his home, he had enough on his plate. Impatiently he drummed his fingers against the mantle, the only visible sign of emotion he would allow. The governor swallowed harshly and plowed straight ahead.
"Your lovely wife and Madame Bonnet here have brought to my attention you have been living openly with a disreputable woman. While I must admit I have no authority to generally get involved with my subjects personal affairs, Señora Maria-Teresa and Madame Bonnet..."
Before any of them was aware of what happened, the sword that had previously hung on Diego's hip was pressed against the governors Adam's apple. A visible tick showed prominently on Diego's jaw as he had to fight to control the urge to slice the pompous idiot's throat from ear to ear.
"First of all de Gálvez, Maria-Teresa is no wife of mine. Second, you allowed the daughter of the king to be influenced by a woman has just escaped from a mental asylum. And third, you invade my home, insult me and insult my rank," Diego's voice was barely above a whisper, but fury emanated clearly from every word. "Nothing concerning my life is of any consequence to you. Not ever. You may think you have the king's ear, but I can guarantee you by the time the pieces of your body make it back to Spain; he will be cursing your name. I promise you, if you ever place you nose into my business, darken my doorstep, or even think about sullying the princesa's ears with the sound or your voice, I might have to feed to creatures of the swamp with your carcass, then have you family's lands and titles confiscated by the crown and have you sons impressed upon my ship. ¿Entiende?"
To emphasize his point, Diego nicked the governor's throat just enough to cause a small trickle of blood to trickle down his throat. The governor stumbled to his feet and practically ran out of the room with his secretary trying to hide a suspicious wet spot on his breeches, right on his heels.
Crossing to a chair directly in from of Maria-Teresa, Diego sat heavily and regarded the wan looking woman. She sat as serene as ever, as if nothing that had just happened affected her in any way. But of course it hadn't. Maria was rarely affected by anything outside the spiritual. How in the hell did she get involved with Agathe? Come to think of it, where the hell was Agathe?
"Carlos, did you see where the other woman went?"
"I am sorry Señor, she must have left after you started, uh, talking to the governor. Do you want me to see if I can find her?"
Diego sighed wearily. "No. I want you want you to go find several of my men. I will give you a list. For now, escort Ana to the kitchens. I am sure she could use something heartier than coffee, tea and petite fours." Ana shot him a grateful look, but waited for permission from her mistress before moving a muscle. When none seemed to be forthcoming from the tight-lipped Maria, Diego prodded. "Maria, I will speak with you alone. Give Ana leave to go."
"You should not refer to Ana so familiarly," Maria-Teresa sniffed. After traipsing across the ocean to find him, she still had no desire to be alone in a room with him. "You may go Ana, but be back here in fifteen minutes."
"Make that thirty."
Ana bowed to Diego before a hasty curtsy in the general direction of her mistress. At forty-years -old and a poor relation, Ana would always be a spinster, but she was not really cut out to be a duena. There had been no other choices for her so did her duty to the best of her abilities, but she was not the best choice for the Princesa. She did not relish the hours upon hours spent in prayer and confession nor the endless amounts of fasting her mistress opposed upon all of her household. She frankly could not imagine what Maria-Teresa had to confess. The woman rarely left the chapel or the company of her personal priest. It had gotten increasingly worse when Diego had finally convinced the king to petition the Church for an annulment only to leave Spain as soon as it was final. Maria-Teresa had become almost fanatical; she was in chapel before sunrise staying until mid-morning, she was often on a diet of bread and water, demanding Ana do the same, she was never without her priest, Father Manuel by her side whom she lavished with gold and expensive gifts.
Maria-Teresa raved how it was her purpose in life to show Diego the errors of his ways. If only he would reconsider their annulment and agree to a chaste marriage. She believed she and she alone could save him and bring "back to the fold with God". She had convinced her father to send her to bring Diego back to Spain since none of the emissaries had been successful. The king wanted Diego to marry her sister, Isabella now that she was widowed, but Maria-Teresa had other plans. She would sometimes rant for hours about how the duque was a carnal creature in peril of losing his immortal soul to wine and women. She believed he was being led astray by what she called "demonic native seductresses" and "African witches" which was why he had failed to return to Spain.
Many in Maria-Teresa's household worried about her, especially Ana. They all had serious doubts as to the piety of Father Manuel who was the major influence on the princesa. The priest was rarely in chapel during the predawn hours though he encouraged his patroness to be there. He disappeared for hours, sometimes days at time, always insinuating he needed more money when he returned. The household maids steered clear of the man, an ominous sign in itself. Ana had wanted desperately to tell the duque all she all this and more, but her mistress never let her out of her sight. As she followed Carlos out of the room she tried to catch the duque's eye, to give him some kind of signal. Maria-Teresa was getting worse, especially after the inexplicable appearance of the strange woman named Agathe. Ana feared for her mistresses sanity if the people around her kept adding fuel to the unnatural fire burning in her mind.
"My things should be here shortly. If the African woman is here, you must make her leave immediately. I will need at least three maids and some sort of social secretary so that..."
"Maria, how many times must I tell you we are no longer married?" Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his head trying to think of way to tell there was no way in hell she was moving anywhere near him in a way she would understand. "Maria, you are an unmarried woman. It is against all propriety you stay here with me."
His voice was dangerously quiet. Maria hated when used that tone. It frightened her. Although he wouldn't raise his tone of his voice, it seemed to get colder. She pulled her rosary from the folds of her gown and silently began to pray. She had to be strong. Dear Agathe had warned her that the voodoo priestesses here that seduced decent mean were potent; she would have to be stronger. She decided to attack the problem head on. Diego was far too stubborn for anything else.
"Diego, I know you cannot see it now," she began earnestly, "but this woman, this African, she has got some kind of spell on you. I am here to help you. You must send her away, for the sake of your soul!"
Diego regarded the Maria noticing how gaunt and wasted away she looked. She ran through the rosary in her hands at a speed had not seen from priests. Her formerly luxurious jet black hair was scraped back into a painfully tight bun and looked to be thinning. She was dressed in a dark gray gown that began at the top of her neck falling past her feet. Her sleeves ran down slightly over her wrists and her hands, which were covered with gloves. Not an inch of flesh was visible. On closer inspection her gown appeared to be made of coarse linen. Maria had always been deeply religious; she was fast becoming a fanatic.
"Is that why you are here Maria? To save my soul? This is what your father sent you half way around the world for?"
Maria's gaze slid from her husband to the floor. She could not lie.
"No. My father wants an heir for your lands and title. He wants you to marry Isabella." She admitted softly. "But, Diego she is no good for you! Her husband and his court have corrupted her. She is a sinful woman who would only farther imperil your soul."
"And you, you are right for me, sí?" He rose in one fluid motion to circle the sofa in which she sat. Leaning down to whisper against her ear he continued his assault. "You do remember what it takes to get with child, don't you Maria? You remember how I must lift up your nightdress, spread your legs wide and slip my..."
"Stop! We must have a chaste marriage! Pure and free from all carnality. It is the only way you can repent!" Maria jumped to her feet whirling to face her know smirking husband. "I refuse to listen to such filth! I am a princess of Spain and you will do as I say!" She was yelling, crass as that was, but she didn't stop. She couldn't take it. The thought of him, of any man touching her flesh made her physically ill. She had thought she could endure it, but she knew she couldn't. She most certainly couldn't with this man. He was far too, too virile.
"And I what am I supposed to do for an heir?" he smirked.
She knew all men wanted heirs, but it that was a problem of the world. Diego needed to be concerned with the problems of the soul.
"You will cease speaking to me of sinful things this instant!" she demanded, stamping her feet for emphasis.
"You do not command me to do a damn thing." He had not raised his voice above a normal octave, but then he didn't have to. "I want you to understand what it is you are asking for."
"I am trying to help you! You must send that, that person away! Now!"
"So that you can take her place in my bed? Will you let me bury my face between your legs to suckle your woman's honey? Will you let me bend you over my desk or a chair and take you from behind, riding you until we both scream from the sheer joy of it? Will you let me take your ass, Maria? Would you let me slide into your forbidden entrance and ride you there?"
"You will be silent! Shut up now!"
"Yes, Diego," came a soft voice from the doorway. "Why don't you shut up now?"
"Cherie!"
Diego rushed out of the parlor, leaving a confused Maria-Teresa standing alone with what appeared to be a young gentleman. Who or what he was she couldn't begin to know. One was never sure here who was a regular person and who was descended from slaves. Agathe had warned her of that. The man bowed appropriately but did not introduce himself, as was proper. She was a woman alone, it was not proper to talk to her without a proper introduction from someone she knew and trusted. She did not however, appreciate the amused look on his face. He was not smiling, but his eyes implied inappropriate mirth. She decided she would use her royal imperative to put him in his place.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my husband's house?"
"Your husband's house? I was unaware Diego had remarried." The young man replied rudely. ""I am sorry, but this house belongs to Cherie Bonnet. And I, Your Highness, am Étienne Barbin, first and only son of Rémi Barbin, Vicomte de Alsace."
Maria dismissed the notion that this was that woman's house. Of course this was Diego's home. "You are impertinent. What are you doing here?"
"I am a friend of Diego and Cherie," Étienne replied undaunted.
"Well, go and fetch him."
Seeing that she had dismissed him with her decree, Étienne walked away in amusement. Poor Diego.
He found the man standing in front of the closed door of a guest bedroom looking lost.
"The pricesa has demanded I come and fetch you." Diego growled in reply. Étienne decided to take pity on him and leave the subject of his strange former wife alone. "Let me talk to Cher. You go, deal with the Spanish woman. We will talk later."
Shit! That was the last thing Diego wanted to do. There was no way out of it.
"Do not let her leave this house alone, 'Tienne. Agathe was in this house"
He was gone before the other man could question him. On his way back to the parlor he noticed workmen brining in several traveling trunks and crates.
"No, no, no! Take these things right back to the wagons!" He bellowed striding to what appeared to be the man in charge.
"Diego what are you doing?" Maria-Teresa rushed out of the parlor. "These are my things. I will need them until we return to Spain."
Merciful Heavens, take me now! Diego pinched the bridge of his nose trying valiantly to contain the rage threatening to erupt. Turning to Maria he spoke slowly and deliberately through clinched teeth. "You will not be staying here. This house belongs to – someone else. If you must stay, you can stay at my plantation about fifteen miles upriver. When I have calmed down, I might come and deal with you then. I will provide you with all you need, but you need to leave now."
Turning from her he bellowed for Carlos, and as the man came running with Ana in tow he was hit by a sudden inspiration.
"Carlos, you need to go find Maria..."
"I am Princesa Maria-Teresa!"
"Whatever. You will go to the plantation and you will wait. Carlos will acquire a couple of holy sisters to keep you company, Ana will stay here and before you open your mouth to protest I must warn you I am fast losing patience and would not encourage you to push me too far. I seriously doubt your father had any hand in this hair brained scheme of your for us to remarry. King Ferdinand is well aware of the reasons why our annulment was necessary. "
Maria swallowed but said nothing. He took small comfort at least she was chastened enough to looked embarrassed. Turning on her heel she returned to the parlor head held high. Carlos ran out the door, just happy to be given a task away from this madhouse. Ana fell to his feet in tears.
"Thank you, thank you senor! Thank you so much! I do not know how much more I could take!"
Considering the woman weeping at his feet he suddenly felt completely out of his depth. What the hell was he supposed to do now?