Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8 by Lynne Connolly Read Free Book Online

business. We would probably make an appearance, if only to pay a courtesy visit to the king. He was out of the city at the moment, so we could postpone that visit, although I’d like to see the building in more detail.
    We were to land at the brand-new quay, the Cais das Pedras , built of marble and very grand, standing adjacent to the palace. I ignored the wind whipping past my cheeks in favour of viewing the spectacle of our landing. The quay jutted crisply into the choppy sea, inviting us to land with its air of firm confidence.
    Shaken from my recent encounter with Richard, I fixed the expression of interested welcome to my face and waited on events. We had the luxury of doing so. Other passengers from other vessels gazed around, bewildered and concerned, but I had the confidence of knowing that either we would be met, or we would procure a vehicle to get us to our destination. I never underestimated that and remembered what it was like to be alone, stranded and afraid and with insufficient funds or standing to obtain what I needed. It had only happened to me once, in Exeter years ago, but I had never forgotten the experience.
    I saw all this as we approached the landing pier in a small boat rowed by some of our crew. We arrived at the base of a flight of steps, more like a ladder in truth. One of the crew led the way and then I went next, followed by Carier. It surprised me that Richard allowed Carier to take his place, but perhaps the manservant gave him little choice.
    I was aware that Carier knew of my husband’s qualms and care of me, and I also knew that he agreed with me, that Richard should relax his attentions. I only knew because I had learned to interpret his movements and expressions, and I am sure nobody else understood his opinion. My maid, Nichols, treated me as usual now and only gave me the care she considered I needed, for which I was grateful. I have observed that women frequently have more idea than men of how to treat others and deal with illness.
    I climbed onto the bare planks that formed the pier and staggered. Carier quickly moved to place his hands on my waist from behind with a murmured, “If my lady will allow…” and then I understood why he had followed me up the stairs. He realized what my first reaction to dry land would be and acted to support me without fussing unduly.
    Richard climbed up. He appeared remarkably and somewhat annoyingly steady. I repressed my irritation when he didn’t stumble. I felt the pier move under my feet, but I was no longer sure if the movement came from my imagination or reality. Probably a combination of the two since piers were rarely completely unmoving. If I closed my eyes, I found it made the sensation worse, so I snapped them open again, and my gaze fixed on a figure at the end of the pier.
    A woman stood there, leaning on the arm of a tall man. She was fair, wearing a fashionable gown and mantle, green and darker green. My sister, Lizzie.
    I had missed her so much, and not until this moment did I realise how badly I’d desired her presence, someone I could entirely trust to talk to frankly. Despite my making some good friends recently, Lizzie remained my best and most trusted friend. Nobody else would ever take her place.
    Richard dropped my new shawl over my shoulders and arranged it becomingly with a few flicks of his fingers. When he offered me the support of his arm, I could take it without stumbling, although I still had the sensation that I should move my hand an inch or two farther than I actually did. I gripped the coat, defying the fashionable do-not-touch demands the garment seemed to make, and essayed my first step.
    Once I remembered to adjust my expectations and pretended that I didn’t feel the earth move, I progressed more steadily. I would have run into my sister’s arms if I could, and I saw from the broad smile she wore that she was ready to welcome me. In fact, I found it pleasant to watch her, to take in her expression, to see