“Think about what sort of space you want for your studio as we look at potential homes. I’m sure a darkroom could be built into just about any corner of a house, but give some thought to how that will fit with our day-to-day living.”
“A darkroom! I told you, that’s expensive.” She wouldn’t mind a studio, though.
“As it turns out, I happen to have money. If that’s where your interest lies, pursue it.” He turned into a private road that lacked a for sale sign and wound through a vineyard.
“There’s no money in photography.” Not the sort his level of society expected a woman to make if she was going to pursue a career over homemaking.
“I don’t expect you to make money. Do it for yourself. Be an artist.”
“You’re going to be my patron? Don’t pander to me just because I acted like Lily last night.” She spoke to the window to hide her embarrassment.
“I’m not. I want you to be happy.”
That swung her around because no, he didn’t. He had specifically told her to settle.
He might have recalled that conversation, too. His expression grew stiff as he braked and threw the vehicle into Park.
Poppy glanced around. “I don’t see the agent.”
“It’s not for sale. This is Cesar and Sorcha’s home.”
“Why didn’t you tell me we were meeting them today?” She glanced down at the pantsuit she’d put on hoping to look the part of a rich man’s wife viewing villas as if she knew what such a man needed.
“You look perfect.” He stepped out. “They don’t know we’re coming so they’ll be equally casual.”
“Why don’t they know we’re coming?” she asked as he came around while she was opening the back door to get Lily.
“You’re supposed to wait for me to come around and open your door for you,” he chided.
“I know how to open my own car door. I also know how to look after my own daughter.” She brushed him away from trying to reach in, then grunted as she released Lily and took her weight, dragging her out. “What I don’t know is how I’m supposed to behave when you drop me on relatives who don’t know I’m coming.”
Lily squinted as Poppy drew her from the car and buried her face in Poppy’s neck.
“I’ll keep her,” Poppy murmured as Rico tried to take her. It was pathetic to hide behind her daughter, but she needed Lily’s sturdy warmth to bolster her.
A maid let them in and the view took her breath as they moved from the foyer to a front room where huge picture windows overlooked the Mediterranean.
“Tío!” A young boy of about four ran in wearing red trunks and nothing else.
Rico picked him up. “You remember Enrique? Cesar’s eldest?” he asked Poppy.
“You’ve grown,” she murmured. “Bon dia,” she added in the small amount of Valencian dialect she knew the family used among themselves.
“Say hello to Poppy and Lily,” Rico prompted him.
“Hola. ¿Cómo estás?” Enrique asked with a confidence beyond his years.
Rico gave Enrique’s backside a pat. “You’re wet. How are you swimming? It’s too early in the year.”
“I got in to here.” Enrique touched his belly button.
“And now you’re eating your lunch,” Cesar said, strolling in wearing crisp linen pants and a shirt he was buttoning. He nodded to send Enrique back outside.
This was the most relaxed Poppy had ever seen Cesar, but he still projected a chilly formality not unlike the duque and duquesa. In fact, he greeted his brother with a look that bordered on hostile.
“You’ve lost your drop-in privileges with my family.” It was a very civil, Get the hell out.
Because of her and Lily? Because they were a stain on the family name?