The house is palatial. Gigantic. Enormous. It makes my father's home look like a small anthill.

"I am not fit to be seen here," I whisper, clutching Marcos's hand for support. "They will know."

"No one will suspect a thing. We have been travelling all day and will retire to our room. You'll see the housekeeper who may well think you ill-attired—"

"Thanks."

"—but she will not say anything unless she wants to lose her job. I shall make sure of it."

"You will not get her fired for looking at me with suspicion. Especially as she should be doing just that at the thought of my being a countess."

"Your mother is a countess. You are properly attired, you have just been travelling."

By which he means he and I laced up my dress this morning and it is in no way fitting properly. The broach is securely in place today, holding the shawl over a dress that wiggles a lot more than it should each time I take a step. "I look like I lifted the dress off a woman who has far more going for her in the bosom department," I snap. "So do not mock me. Let's just go in quickly where I won't have to be seen."

"You are the one who has stopped walking," he points out, gently tugging me up the wide stone staircase. "Shall we?"

I can't even nod, but he accepts my silence and pulls the bell three times before pulling back to stand beside me a respectable distance from the doorway, our one small bag still in his hand.

"Bienvenidos," a slim older woman greets us in a deep curtsey when she opens the door. "What may I do for you?"

"Is the duke in?" Marcos asks, smiling brightly. "We've been told of his excellent company by my good friend the duke of Valparaiso."

I resist the urge to stare up at him to find out if he really knows the duke of Valparaiso. That could tip her off, so I won't be doing it. I keep a smile plastered on my face and my eyes firmly glued on her ear. Because her eyes are too scary. She'll see right through me.

"My wife and I would be most grateful for his hospitality," Marcos continues. "The new countess of Córdoba is weary from our terrible night on the train or I would not impose on his kindness."

"You are most welcome," the housekeeper beams and ushers us inside. "His excellency would be pleased to hear his good friend the duke of Valparaiso has so exalted his hosting skills."

"It must be a large part down to you," I say with a smile. "Has your tenure here been long?"

Her brows knit together and Marcos's hand squeezes my own.

"I have been here all my life, your grace," she answers, turning down a hallway illuminated by small candles sitting in the alcoves. "I apologize the candles are low. I wasn't expecting guests this evening, but I will have them replaced immediately, now that you are here."

"It would be most appreciated," Marcos says with a smile. "We've had a very long day."

"We will dine at ten," the housekeeper says, stopping in front of a large wooden door with an ornate golden knob. "Is that acceptable?"

Marcos looks at me and probably notices that it looks like I'm about to lose my lunch.

"That will do, yes. My wife is feeling a little unwell. If she is unfit to attend, I should like food brought for her."

"Of course, your grace. Please ring if you need anything else." She pulls the door open to reveal a sliver of an ornately decorated room with the most beautiful view I've ever seen.

"Thank you," Marcos says with a smile. "We will be fine from here."

"Of course," the old woman bobs her head and backs up, pulling the door open and allowing us to enter. Marcos practically has to push me through as my eyes struggle to take everything in.

Even in the low light, the room is glittering. The sitting room we enter has furniture that looks perfect for reading or embroidery or games. A piano and easel rest in the corner, along with a Flamenco guitar and a pair of castanets. A beautiful, carved door sits against the far wall, flanked by two paintings: one a landscape and the other a portrait.

The door pushes closed behind us and I jump, turning to see the housekeeper has left us and we are well and truly alone in a room where we are meant to spend the night.

"At least there are comfortable settees" I remark. "I shall have a place to rest."

"No wife of mine will be sleeping in a sitting room. You shall sleep in the bed."

I'm not going to fight him right now, feeling too uneasy and tired. My stomach rumbles right on cue.

"You are hungry?" He asks, setting his bag down on the floor and removing his hat and outer coat.

"A little," I admit. "I'd also love a bath or even someone to help me lace my dress properly in the morning. So I don't have to look..." I gesture to myself and his eyes follow me as I do, drawing lines down the edges of my body and sending heat through every part of me.

"You look radiant," he says, stepping back and crossing his hands over his chest.

"I look exhausted," I counter. "And I left my house with no clothes but these, so I certainly will not be smelling radiant shortly."

"Do you need a dress?" he asks. "I can have ... the housekeeper send someone with you."

I shake my head. "No. I shall wait until we reach our destination. I don't want to draw unnecessary attention. A new bride would have her clothes with her. We arrived with nothing but a suitcase."

His eyes dark to his case and back up to me. "That is true. I did not consider it."

"And no dress mixed with no ring..." I pause to bite at my lip. A very unladylike habit, I've been told. "I don't think we'll evade suspicion for long."

"You are correct," he says simply. "We'll have to use what we have for now and have something made for you once we arrive on the coast."

"Good," I agree. "Now for the small issue of having no food and falling asleep standing up."

"I shall ring for something for you to eat and request assistance for you in the morning."

"Thank you," I say with a yawn. "I'd like to get to bed as soon as possible. Last night was difficult."

He visibly winces, smile still on his face. "I shall arrange it all."

I turn around so I don't have to watch him unpack his case and ring for the housekeeper so soon after we've let her leave.

The windows along the back wall are enormous and the view stunning. Trees stretch out as far as I can see and the flowers bloom along a winding path snaking through the small forest at the edge of the property.

Statues and a pond adorn a portion of the grounds which disappears over the horizon, drawing my eye to stables at the far edge of the property, built in the same style as the main house, only smaller and structured to let horses easily in and out.

I can't make out any other quarters, but we are in town so it's hard to say if any should exist. I'd go exploring if I weren't so worried about someone seeing me who shouldn't. Pretending to be a count and countess who did not in fact exist was dangerous enough, but wandering around a city I'd been to no less than three dozen times was really poking danger in the face and begging her not to spit back.

It takes a second to realize Marcos has left the room, silently and swiftly. I am completely alone.

Probably he's just keeping up the whole 'my wife is ill' charade. The memory of his intoning 'my wife' brings a warmth to my chest. For a woman who had spent her whole life trying to get out of being married, the idea of being his wife is not altogether unwelcome.

Even if it is just to keep me safe from my father, and to keep his own father out of his business.

And even if it is just a friendship we have hiding behind the guise of our union.

We will soon be wed. Man and wife. Married.

Why does the idea thrill me so?

Thoughts swirl in my head and I cannot contain them, sitting down at the piano and lifting the lid.

The instrument in this room is comparable to the one in my father's sitting room back home. Though it is adorned more beautifully on the sides and the bench is carved with ornate patterns, it is much the same as I am used to.

Settling into the stool, I rest my fingers on the keys and close my eyes, breathing to feel the music. The worry leaves me and the calm takes over as I begin to play.

My fingers float over the keys, playing the opening notes of my favourite piece to perfection, as my twelve years of practicing it should allow.

I think of leaving my house and the fear that carried me into the darkest dangers of the train. Of my sisters and friends who I've left behind. Of the tender eyes of the man who saved me from myself and pulled me right into his arms.

His embrace carries me through the soft, gentle interlude and the memory of his eyes trailing down my body cascades the music in a crescendo, building to the final movement.

The music carries me through to the end, as though my fingers move without my consideration. My brain is occupied elsewhere, parsing through the events of the last day and a half.

Finally, the last notes ring out in the room and I bring myself back to reality, gazing out over the garden and into the last vestiges of the setting sun.

Another day has past. My first as the countess of Córdoba.

Hopefully I will soon leave her behind.

"That was beautiful," Marcos says from across the room. "I didn't know you played."

"I usually don't," I admit. "I was inspired, I guess."

He clears his throat. "Yes, well, it was lovely. They'll be up with your meal as soon as it is prepared and two girls will be by in the morning to corral your dress and your hair before we are on our way.

"Thank you," I say, rising from the piano and closing the lid. "I appreciate it."

"Yeah, that's fine." He rubs a hand over his face and rests it on the back of his neck. "I think I might go for a walk and give you some space, if that's alright. You can just leave the tray out here and go to sleep. I'll have them remove it when I return."

Is he kicking me out? He doesn't want to be where I am?

We just stare at each other from across the room, separated by a large chaise.

"Okay, well, umm, goodnight Catalina."

"Goodnight," I say with a small curtsey. I doubt he sees, though, because before I raise my eyes to meet his again, he is gone.

This does not bode well for my marriage plan. Perhaps I'll need a new one. But for now, I need to eat and sleep and prepare myself for one more day as the countess of Córdoba.

As I remove my loosened gown and sit down to eat my soup, I get the feeling it's not going to be as easy to leave this house as it was to enter it. 

~ * ~ Author's Note ~ * ~ 

Looking for more ONC novellas? I got you! 

Spruce_Goose has a wonderful historical novella, "Beyond the Bridge" which I'm told contains a little bit of a romantic arc, though it is not a Romance capital R so she's keeping us guessing on that ending! 

After a chance meeting, old friends Grace Williams and Levi Edgeworth allow the flip of a coin to decide whether they live out their childhood fantasy of discovering just what lies at the end of a stream. Just when they think they have their answer, they find themselves stuck together, in a series of tunnels where old secrets are revealed. 

~ * ~ * ~

"Take a Chance" by faerie_nellas is a fantasy romance using the coin flip prompt? Yes, please!

The odds are stacked up against him. 2 out of 3 options mean certain death. The third option comes at the price of his heart. Watch Blake defy the world when he is moved from one prison to another. Will he earn his freedom or stay shackled forever.