At the Spanish Duke's Command by Fiona Hood-Stewart Page B

miles.
    â€œWell,” Sven replied, in Scandinavian-accented English, “there’s Tina, Albert from Holland, Anya from Finland, me, and two other guys from Canada you haven’t met yet.”
    â€œWhere were you planning to go?”
    â€œWe thought it would be fun to go down to Andalusia. We can rent a mini-van.”
    â€œThat’s not a bad idea,” Georgiana replied thoughtfully as they reached her classroom. “In fact it would be lovely. Thanks for remembering me, Sven. Of course I’ll join you.”
    Satisfied that a few days in Andalusia would help her forget all that had happened between her and Juan, Georgiana entered the classroom determined to master Spanish grammar and not allow one thought of the man to cross her brain.
    But that, she found, was easier said than done.
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    â€œBut why should we advance the date of our wedding?” Leticia asked, as they sat at the bar in their favourite tasca on the corner of Don Ramon de la Cruz and Goya, working their way through several tapas , consisting of calamares fritos—fried squid— tortilla and chorizo .
    â€œLetti, it doesn’t matter why,” Juan exclaimed, exasperated at her resistance to the idea. “It’ll make things much easier. It means we can go skiing on our honeymoon. We agreed that a month in the sun would drive both of us crazy with only each other for company, remember?” He took a sip of wine.
    â€œReally? I said that?”
    â€œWell, not in so many words,” Juan remonstrated. “But I distinctly remember the conversation.”
    â€œWe’re certainly a romantic pair, aren’t we?” she said with a sigh, looking down into her glass thoughtfully.
    â€œLetti, what’s the matter? Neither of us ever pretended this was a love match. But you know how fond of you I am.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly.
    â€œI know. I’m very fond of you too,” she said, looking up, her eyes awash with sincerity. “It’s just that—”
    â€œLook, Letti, if you’ve any regrets, for goodness’ sake say so.”
    She hesitated. “No, I don’t have any regrets.” She shook her head, looked up at him and smiled brightly. “When do you want the wedding to be held?”
    â€œI don’t suppose we could do it quietly somewhere?”
    â€œYou mean disappear and get married? I wish,” she replied longingly. “But the thought of having to bear my mother’s recriminations for the next few years is a bit off-putting.”
    â€œYes. You have a point,” he agreed, and they both fell silent and sipped their wine.
    â€œYou see, for her, planning this wedding is the highlight of her life. I mean you’re a duke, Juan. My parents think that is marvellous. After all, my father’s a mere marquis,” she said, laughing. “We’re going up a notch.”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. Your family and title date back a lot further than mine.”
    â€œI was just joking. But it is a big deal in their world.”
    â€œAnd that’s not your world?” he asked, quizzing her.
    â€œOf course it is. It’s just that with my work I’ve been exposed to so many experiences, so many other stratas of society. I’m conscious of problems and situations that people like my mother don’t even know exist. Or only peripherally.”
    â€œLetti, you’re a highly intelligent human being. You don’t think I’d want to stand in the way of your work, do you?”
    â€œOf course not, Juan. But the truth is,” she said regretfully, “I may have to consider giving much of it up.”
    â€œWhy? I’d never ask that of you.”
    â€œI know. But, you see, being married to you is going to be a job in itself.” She sighed, toyed with a piece of chorizo , then popped it in her mouth.
    â€œThat’s your mother speaking, isn’t it?” he said, eyes