The Infamous Miss Rodriguez: A Ciudad Real Novella Read Free Page A

said grimly.
    Aunt Elba made an exasperated noise. “Why must you be so difficult? I’m only trying to look after you.”
    “I’m twenty-three years old, Aunt Elba. I don’t need looking after.”
    “It’s clear to me that you do. Nude photographs, Graciela?” With an impatient gesture, Aunt Elba motioned to her worn blotter on which, Graciela realized with a sinking feeling, lay the photographs she had taken the day before. “What can you have been thinking?”
    Aunt Elba would never be so rude as to ask Graciela if she ever thought at all, but the question was implied.
    Graciela met her aunt’s eyes. “That I’m willing to do anything I have to do to keep from you from forcing me to marry Alvaro Medina.”
    “I’m hardly forcing you,” Aunt Elba snapped. “Oh, why don’t you want to marry him? You were happy enough when he started courting you. And don’t say that he’s cruel to you, because I’ve yet to see him treat you unkindly.”
    Graciela felt her throat tightening. She had tried explaining to Aunt Elba why the thought of marrying Alvaro filled her with dread, but the collection of little indignities were insignificant enough to make her aunt more certain Graciela was only trying to be contrary.
    Three weeks. Three weeks until her life all but ended.
    A wave of panic swept through her. She had three weeks to break the engagement and this time, she could not fail.

    * * *
    T he elder Miss Rodriguez was quiet for a long time after her niece left. Vicente, who’d been standing in a corner of the room while the girl pleaded for a reprieve, would have withdrawn to give her privacy. But they still had business to go over. Before he could broach the subject of his payment, however, Elba Rodriguez began to speak.
    “I never wanted this—any of this. Not the house, not the factory, not the raising of her. Her grandfather took care of everything after my brother and his wife died and I was only happy the responsibility hadn’t passed to me. And then he became ill and told me I was the only one he trusted to keep his factory going while Graciela came of age. I’ve spent the last eight years trying to do my best by her,” she said, sliding her spectacles back onto her nose, “but perhaps this engagement…” Her lips flattened, which made the faint lines around her mouth look deeper. For a moment, she looked as stubborn as her niece. Then she sighed, and scrubbed her face with her hands. “She makes me feel like an ogre but it really is for the best. She’ll realize it eventually.”
    He’d been the one to tell her to move up the date of the wedding. Her niece was so determined to make a spectacle of herself, it had seemed to him that it would be smartest to settle things once and for all. It was the smart thing to do—but perhaps not the kindest. She’d seemed genuinely distraught at the thought of marrying Medina. Vicente didn’t know her reasons for not wanting to consent to the marriage but it was clear they weren’t trivial. Then again, even to someone like Vicente who had been forced to eke out an existence from a very young age, no reason, serious or not, was good enough to coerce someone into tying themselves to another person for a lifetime.
    Vicente wrenched the thought away and turned instead to the subject they’d been discussing before she’d burst in.
    He cleared his throat. “About my introduction to the Medinas. I think it’s time something was arranged, Miss Rodriguez.”
    “You did manage to avert disaster—again. Very well. I’ll have my secretary procure you an invitation to the Gonzalez’s dinner on Friday. It’s white tie so you’ll have to dress accordingly. Can you dress accordingly, Aguirre?”
    “I’ll manage.” He had no proper evening clothes but it would be easy enough to procure a serviceable set of tails from one of the rag shops near the waterfront, as rich men like Alvaro Medina got new clothing so frequently half the time the suits were barely worn