She had even, in some way, made reparation for having deceived him and pretended to be what she was not.
As the coach rumbled on through the Park and back to The Palace, Ventura sat in a golden daze of happiness because she knew who she was.
She had learned that the old lady in the sun-filled room was her grandmother! That her mother had been the elder daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Carcastillo and that she had run away because she had been forbidden to marry an impoverished exiled Scot who had taken refuge in Spain after he had fought for James Stuart.
But it was all very well to know these things. It was, Ventura thought, far more difficult to prove them.
It was true that the old Duchess had recognised her and thought that she was her mother come back again.
But Ventura had rea
