House of Dreams by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

“No sweatshirt tonight?”
    Cass flushed, but he was smiling, and a reluctant smile formed on her own lips. “I did not have a choice,” she said.
    He laughed. “You are lovely, senora.”
    â€œPlease, call me Cass. There’s no need to be formal.”
    Their gazes slipped together and as quickly slid apart. “Shall we?” He gestured.
    Cass nodded eagerly and they turned and approached the ruby necklace. Cass gasped. In that instant she could imagine it adorning the neck of Mary, Henry Tudor’s daughter who had briefly reigned as England’s Catholic queen. The necklace was stunning. Each tier of rubies was set in gold. The first tier boasted tiny drops, the second larger ones, the third the largest. But hanging from the last tier was a ruby the size of Cass’s thumb. And it was nested amongst a border of tiny, glittering diamonds. “How wonderful,” Cass whispered, her heart beating madly, riveted by the sight.
    Antonio de la Barca was silent.
    Cass twisted to glance up at him and was stunned to find him unsmiling, eyes wide and fixed. If she did not mistake her guess, he had not even heard her; he was stunned. “Antonio?”
    â€œPor Dios,” he breathed.
    It was as if he had forgotten that they stood beside each other, mere inches separating them. Cass wet her lips. It was impossible for her not to be acutely aware of him as a man, and a damned great-looking one at that. The wool sleeve of his tuxedo jacket brushed her bare shoulder. And he smelled as good as he looked. She was suddenly insanely jealous of her sister.
    Antonio straightened, glancing down at her. He did not smile. His expression remained stunned.
    â€œDo you know something about this necklace?” she asked, unable to tear her gaze from his, completely diverted now from her thoughts about Tracey.
    He hesitated. “Yes. Yes, I think that I do.”
    Cass straightened. “What? What is it?”
    He hesitated again. “I believe this necklace—or one very similar to it—was worn by one of my ancestors.”
    Cass felt her eyes widen. “But how is that possible? You are Spanish and this necklace was found by Lady Hepplewhite at her home in
Highridge Hall. Which, as you must know, dates back to the fourteenth century.”
    He nodded. “I know all of that. One of my ancestors was briefly married to an Englishwoman. Her name was Isabel de la Barca. She died sometime before 1562, when my ancestor took his second wife.”
    Cass was about to make a comment about his knowledge of his own family tree, when Catherine said, her voice quiet, “No.”
    In unison they turned. Dread crept along Cass’s spine as she saw how her aunt was staring at Antonio. There was no mistaking her fear. Or was it revulsion?
    â€œNo,” she said again. “Her name wasn’t Isabel de la Barca. It was Isabel de Warenne. She was the earl of Sussex’s daughter, back in the middle of the sixteenth century.”
    Cass stared at her aunt, a prickle of excitement rising within her in spite of her worries. “De Warenne?” Cass asked breathlessly. “Any relation of ours?”
    Catherine finally looked at her. “Yes, but not directly. She had no children. We share the earl’s father as our common ancestor.”
    Cass was amazed, not that Catherine knew so much about the family’s history, but that she revealed it offhandedly, and she was amazed at the coincidence they now found themselves in. “Our families intermarried in the sixteenth century,” Cass gasped, facing Antonio. She almost grabbed his hands but managed to restrain herself. “Do you know what the odds of that are?”
    He smiled at her, as if swept up by her excitement. “Quite unlikely. There is a portrait in my family home, and the necklace Isabel is wearing in it is remarkably similar to this one.”
    â€œI’d love to see it,” Cass said without