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

how much she had changed.
    I could have said good-bye to her yesterday, for all the changes I perceived in her. Perhaps her bosom, swelling above the fichu tucked into her gown, was a little more pronounced, and her figure more womanly, but her face appeared as lovely as ever. Lizzie had always attracted more admirers than me, but not just for her appearance. Her lively nature drew people, and her lack of vanity, while still retaining a healthy respect for the way she looked, increased her attractiveness.
    From her letters I knew that liveliness hadn’t changed, and I was glad. Portugal and Spain had a reputation for being more staid and grave than England. It appeared that hadn’t affected her, unless she curbed her natural joie de vivre in certain circumstances. For underneath, Lizzie had a more practical nature than I had ever possessed. She had always said that she would marry for companionship and the abilities she could offer a future husband, but when she met Paul, Marquês de Aljubarrotta, she had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love. Not instantly, as I had with Richard, but over time. She’d married him and moved to his home country.
    And now I saw for myself how happy he had made her.
    I took the last two steps at a faster pace and abandoned Richard to throw myself into her arms. I cared not that I should behave with more circumspection in public. Her warmth enveloped me, and I gave her a kiss on each cheek, which she returned. Then I stepped back to hold her at arm’s length, laughing and crying at the same time. “You look so well!”
    She opened her mouth and closed it again.
    I smiled. “You don’t have to say it. But I’m much better than I was and recovering all the time.”
    “You always wanted to lose weight.”
    I shrugged. “It’s coming back.”
    “For which I am very thankful,” Richard said from behind me.
    Like most men, Richard preferred curves on a woman, but he would have to wait for me to regain mine. I’d had no appetite as I recovered, not surprising since I’d spent most of that time in bed, but with movement my hunger returned and I could satisfy it once again. Unlike my other hunger.
    Lizzie gave me another hug and I turned to greet Paul. I had learned during his sojourn with his mother in England that his notions of correct behaviour weren’t as rigid as some of his compatriots, so he was unlikely to condemn me for greeting my beloved sister before him. Richard grew up understanding the nuances of behaviour at the highest level of society, but I had to learn it, and I had discovered there was always something new to trip me up. Richard probably knew exactly how to address the King of Portugal, should we meet him. I had no idea. I relied on my sister to tell me.
    Paul stood over six feet tall. He was dressed in dark, rich garments that contrasted amusingly with Richard’s blue. But both had the air of the aristocrat, the disdain of the very air they breathed that only a lifetime’s training could instil. They greeted each other with the reserve men who liked each other but didn’t know each other very well showed. That at least I could recognise.
    I curtseyed, and Paul tucked his hand under my chin to tilt it up. I smiled and he smiled back, his fine lips curving into an expression that transformed his face from the haughty lord to the amused man. A twinkle lit his eyes, and in that instance, he reminded me why Lizzie had fallen so hard for him. Once she’d met him and got to know him, nobody else would do, and he had since admitted that he was smitten the moment he set eyes on her. But unlike Richard and myself, they went through a courtship before they declared their intentions. And I had the word of my sister that they didn’t anticipate the wedding day. Again, unlike Richard and me.
    “We will help you back to perfect health,” he assured me as he helped me steady my feet. “By the time you leave us, you will be fully recovered.”
    “I didn’t have to come, but