‘Why did you come here?’
‘Well, my mother is ill.’
‘I didn’t think you liked her.’
‘I don’t. She doesn’t approve of me, but she is ill.’ She took the tea from Sharpe, finished it, and put the tin mug on the parapet. She looked at the Rifleman and grinned. ‘The truth is I wanted to go away for a day.’
‘By yourself?’
‘No.’ She drew the word out reprovingly, suggesting he knew her better than that. ‘With a delicious Captain. But Augustus insisted another one came along as well, so it would all have been very difficult.’
Sharpe grinned. Her eyelashes were impossibly long, her mouth indecently full. It was a face that promised every comfort. ‘I can understand why he worries about you.’
She laughed at that, then shrugged. ‘He’s in love with me.’ She made the word ‘love’ ironic.
‘And you with him?’
‘Richard!’ She reproved him again. ‘He’s very kind, and he’s very, very rich.’
‘Very, very, very rich.’
‘Even richer.’ She smiled. ‘Anything I want! Anything! He tries to be strict with me, but I won’t let him. I locked the door on him for two nights and I haven’t had any trouble since.’
Sharpe twisted round and was thankful that no one seemed to need his presence. The sentries crouched or paced the roof, the sound of knives and canteens came from the breakfasts in the cloisters, and there was still no sign of the Fusiliers. He looked back at her and she smiled. ‘I really am glad to see you, Richard.’
‘You’d have been glad of any rescuer.’
‘No. I’m glad to see you. You always make me tell the truth.’
He smiled. ‘You don’t need me to do that.’You need friends.’
She smiled quickly. ‘You really know me, don’t you, and you don’t disapprove of me.’
‘Should I?’
‘They usually do.’ She was staring at the hillside. ‘They all say differently, and they all make wonderful speeches, but I know what they think. I’m popular, Richard, just as long as I keep this.’ She pointed to her face. ‘And the rest of it.’
‘Yes.’ She smiled at him. ‘It still works.’
He smiled back. ‘Is that why you married Sir Augustus?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘That was his idea. He wanted me to be his wife so I could go everywhere with him.’ She laughed, as if Sir Augustus had been stupid. ‘He wanted me to go north to Braganza, and we sailed to Cadiz, and he couldn’t have me going to dinners as his whore, could he?’
‘Why not? Lots of men do.’
‘Not to those dinners, Richard. Very pompous.’ She made a face.
‘So you married him so you could go to pompous dinners?’
‘Marry him!’ She looked at Sharpe as though he were mad. ‘I’m not married to him, Richard! You think I’d marry him?’
‘You’re not… ?’
She laughed at him, her voice attracting the attention of the sentries. She lowered it. ‘He just wants me to say that I’m married to him. Do you know what he pays me for that?’ Sharpe shook his head and she laughed again. ‘A lot, Richard. A lot.’
‘How much?’
She ticked the things off on her fingers. ‘I’ve got an estate near Caldas da Rainha; three hundred acres and a big house. A carriage and four horses. A necklace that would buy half of Spain, and four thousand dollars in a London bank.’ She shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t you say yes to an offer like that?’
‘I don’t think anyone would ask me.’ He looked at her incredulously. ‘You’re not Lady Farthingdale?’
‘Of course not!’ She smiled at him. ‘Richard! You should know me better than that! Anyway, Duarte’s still alive. I can’t marry anyone else while I’m still married to him.’
‘So he suggested that you call yourself his wife? Is that it?’
She shrugged. ‘Something like that. He wasn’t very serious, but I asked him what he’d pay for it, and once he told me I went along.’ She smiled to herself. ‘I mean he was already paying me so that no one but him got in the saddle, so why not pretend to be married? It’s as good as marriage, isn’t it?’