She was forgotten, which was not quite the same thing. “Yes, but those days are over. I have no one to blame but myself.”
“How can you blame yourself? It is not your fault you were attacked!”
“Ines, hush!”
“No one can understand Portuguese here.”
“We cannot be too careful. If you expose me, you do Juan Carlos’s work for him.”
“Good. Then he cannot force you to marry Miguel.”
“I would rather marry his son than dangle on a scaffold.”
“You wouldn’t—”
Ines was interrupted by a knock on the door, which turned out to be the footmen carrying water and a standing tub. Catarina went to the dressing room, as she wore only a blanket, and Ines directed them to place the tub behind a screen and fill it. When they were finished, Catarina discarded the blanket and poured the water over herself, warming her skin and washing away the mud and dirt splashed on her from the rains.
By the time she was in her night rail again, she hoped Ines had fallen asleep. But Ines, as usual, was full of energy. “Tell me how he looked. What did his house look like? What did the woman look like? Or do you not wish to discuss her?”
“I do not wish to discuss any of it,” Catarina said. She was exhausted, having barely slept the night before because she’d been worried about seeing Draven today. And now after seeing him, she didn’t think she’d sleep very well tonight. “I am tired.”
“But you haven’t eaten any supper. I sent for soup and a vegetable tart. It’s waiting on the table.” She indicated a small table in the corner of the room with a plate under a dome on top.
“I will eat tomorrow. I am too tired tonight.”
Ines gave her a look of incredulity. “May I eat it then?”
“Yes.”
And Ines scampered away to have her second dinner of the night. Catarina did not know how the girl stayed so thin when she ate so much. It seemed no matter how many times Catarina skipped a meal, her hips stayed round. But she was honestly not hungry tonight. Her stomach roiled, and she didn’t know if it was because she wouldn’t see Benedict tomorrow or because she would see him the day after.
At some point Tigrino curled up at her feet, and Catarina fell into a light sleep. Her thoughts were fraught with worry. How could she escape Juan Carlos and his son Miguel? How could she keep her business? And what would she say when she saw Benedict again? Finally, she dreamed, her mind returning to its favorite subject—that first, and only, kiss.
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