There could be no doubting the sincerity of his initial response to her entrance. Feeling a little more encouraged, Elena turned slowly to let him see the new gown to full advantage.
‘The seamstress has done a fine job, no?’
‘She certainly has.’ He decided that every last penny of the cost had been worth it. ‘Although I can’t help feeling that you show off the gown to advantage rather than the other way around.’
‘It’s an improvement on breeches and boots, I think.’
‘A vast improvement,’ he agreed.
The admiration in his eyes created a glow of pleasure deep inside. Moreover, she was supremely conscious of how well formal evening dress became him, enhancing every line of that lithe and virile form. He looked every inch the nobleman he was. His attention was also deeply disconcerting.
To conceal her inner trepidation, Elena made to adjust her shawl. He stepped forward at once.
‘Allow me.’
He draped the fabric carefully across her shoulders. As he did so his fingers brushed the bare skin at the back of her neck, a light and possibly unintended gesture that sent a frisson down her spine. Then he stepped back and offered her his arm.
‘Shall we go?’
A hired carriage took them the short distance to the mansion of the Conde de Villanueva. Lights blazed in every window and the queue of vehicles outside proclaimed an event of some importance. Harry and Elena joined the line of guests waiting to greet their hosts. The conde greeted them warmly, his gaze lingering on Elena with undisguised admiration. He bestowed on her a dazzling smile.
‘Welcome to my house. May I present my wife, the Condesa Maria?’
The condesa was a pretty, dark-haired lady with an elfin figure. She smiled at her guests and bade them welcome. Elena returned the smile.
‘Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers. They were a delightful surprise.’
The condesa inclined her head graciously. ‘You’re most welcome.’
Harry registered this with wry amusement. Either his suspicions had been entirely without foundation or else Villanueva was a lot smarter than he’d given the man credit for.
The condesa introduced them to some of the other new arrivals. When the necessary courtesies had been observed, they made their way through the antechamber that adjoined the ballroom. Curious eyes followed their entrance.
‘You seem to have created a stir, my sweet,’ murmured Harry, ‘but don’t let it go to your head. The first two dances are mine.’
‘If you say so, my lord.’
‘I do say so. Furthermore, I’m prepared to back my claim against all comers.’
Elena raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, I wouldn’t wish to cause a scene.’
‘Wars have been fought for less.’
The tone was light but the expression in his eyes implied rather more. The effect was to make her flesh tingle. She had no desire to dance with anyone else even though good manners would likely make that inescapable. As she looked around all the other men in the room seemed decidedly lacking in comparison. She had not missed the curious and covert looks that came their way. Already the women were whispering behind their fans. Of course, Harry was hard to miss, being a head taller than most of the Spaniards present. Only the conde came near to him in height and good looks. Unable to help herself, Elena found herself making comparisons. Villanueva knew he was attractive to women but, in spite of his polished manner, there was about him the innate arrogance and hauteur of the hidalgo class. Harry’s birth was arguably better but he made no parade of it, nor did he trade on his good looks. He was also possessed of natural kindness and patience. Of the two men she knew with absolute certainty which one she preferred.
When the orchestra struck up, Harry claimed her hand for the first dance. It was a pavanne. The dance was slow and graceful, a measure from a bygone age, but then, she acknowledged, Spain was behindhand in such matters. She guessed it hadn’t been danced in England for many years and it surprised her that Harry should know it. Yet clearly he did, and well too. So much surprised her about this man and continued to sharpen her curiosity too. As they moved through the steps his gaze never left her and, although it was impossible to read his thoughts, her entire being resonated with awareness of it. All else ceased to exist for her except for the man and the music. This was quite unlike the first time they danced together; it was more intimate and more disturbing. Did he feel the same? Did he feel anything for her at all, or was this the triumph of hope over experience?
When, at length, the pavanne ended it was replaced by a cotillion. The mood and tempo were different but it was still exhilarating to dance with him. She caught his eye and saw him smile, an unaffected and natural smile that sent a pulse of warmth through her body’s core. She could see other women watching them and once or twice registered envy in their eyes. When she looked at the majority of men in the room it was easy to understand why.
Without her being aware of it Elena was attracting attention too, and when Harry led her from the floor they were greeted by their host and two or three others who wished for an introduction. Those were followed up by invitations for future dances. Harry resigned himself to the inevitable. Much as he would have liked to keep her to himself all evening, it would have been the height of bad manners. He watched in silent chagrin as she walked away with another man.
Villanueva read him accurately. ‘That is the penalty of having a beautiful wife, my friend.’
‘Well, you should know.’
The Spaniard grinned. ‘I content myself with the knowledge that Maria will always be with me at the end of the evening.’
Harry reflected that he would be the one to take Elena home, a notion that sent his mind in distinctly pleasurable directions. With an effort he brought it back. It was too easy to daydream about his wife, fantasies that had no foundation in anything except wishful thinking. He summoned a casual smile.
‘Won’t you introduce me to some of your friends, Villanueva? It’ll prevent me from harbouring jealous thoughts.’
His companion laughed. ‘Gladly.’
The conde’s guests admitted Harry very readily into their company. Quite apart from his imposing presence he aroused curiosity too, since English lords were not a common feature of polite society in Seville. His fluency in the language did him no disservice either, and he was soon engaged in conversation with a group of gentlemen at the far end of the room. From time to time he glanced towards the dancers. Judging from her smile Elena seemed to be enjoying herself. She had probably put him out of her mind. His jaw tightened and he turned away, trying to concentrate on what his companions were saying.
Elena curtsied to her last partner and left the floor. The room was hot now, the air heavy with the scent of beeswax and flowers and perfume. A cooling drink would be more than welcome. The vague memory of a punch bowl in the anteroom directed her steps that way. In fact, memory served her correctly and with a sense of relief she ladled some of the liquid into a cup and took a sip. It was delicious.
Opposite, an open door led onto a terrace. Elena glanced round but everyone else seemed engaged in conversation so taking advantage of the fact she slipped outside for a few moments. Although it was still offically spring, the evening air was pleasant. Seville had a different climate from Madrid and the northerly provinces. The sky was clear, a sickle moon hanging amid myriad stars. Pools of light from the ballroom windows illuminated the flower beds and part of the lawn below. The rest of the garden was in deep velvet shadow where the soft chirring of cicadas mingled with the sound of music drifting from the ballroom. She sipped her drink and relaxed a little, enjoying the fresh air.
‘Out here all alone, my lady?’
Elena started and turned quickly. At first glance the tall figure in the doorway might have been mistaken for Harry, but the voice belonged to the Conde de Villanueva. She was conscious of a stab of disappointment but recovered her composure quickly.
‘I needed a little air. It’s very warm
indoors.’
He smiled and strolled across to join her. ‘I was afraid you were not enjoying the party.’
‘Oh, yes. I am enjoying it very much.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. I’d be sorry to think otherwise.’
‘The occasion seems to be a great success.’
‘Your presence has added immeasurably to that.’
Elena pretended to misunderstand. ‘It was kind of you to invite us. My husband was delighted to renew his acquaintance with you.’
‘It was a delight for me too.’ He regarded her keenly. ‘What do you think of our Sevilla?’
‘It’s a fine city. I’m impressed with what I have seen so far.’
‘I wish I could show you more.’
Nothing could have been pleasanter than his expression but something in that smooth tone caused the first stirring of unease. The words were ambiguous too, capable of a perfectly innocent interpretation or a very different one. For no apparent reason the hothouse bouquet came to mind, and with it connotations she didn’t care for.
‘I regret that we will be leaving very soon. My husband’s business here is concluded.’
‘What a pity.’
‘Yes, isn’t it?’
‘Do you return to Madrid?’
‘No. We’re moving on to Cádiz.’
‘It’s a long and tiring journey, my lady.’
‘I’m well used to travelling.’
He reached out and traced one finger lightly down her arm. ‘Your husband should leave you here while he takes care of business. It would be my pleasure to offer the hospitality of my house.’
There could be no mistake now about the intent behind the smooth, purring tone. He was also standing just a little too close and he was between her and the door. Elena quashed an urge to flee, knowing instinctively that he would prevent it. Then there would be a scene with possibly unpleasant consequences. Somehow she was going to have to bluff her way out of this. She forced a smile.
‘You are most kind.’
‘I should like to be.’
Her skin prickled. ‘My husband would not countenance such a separation and nor would I.’
‘You are quite right, my dear,’ said a voice behind them. ‘I would not countenance it.’
Her heart leapt as she saw Harry in the doorway and relief washed over her with the force of a tidal bore.
He surveyed the little scene just a few seconds longer. His timing had been fortuitous. A few seconds later and Villanueva would undoubtedly have tried to kiss Elena. Harry’s jaw tightened. Although he would very much have liked to floor the man he didn’t want Elena subjected to the kind of scandal that would result. Instead he advanced to join them. Nothing could have been more relaxed than his outward manner, nothing more amiable than his smile. However, on this occasion it stopped well short of his eyes.
‘My wife remains at my side,’ he said.
As he turned round, Villanueva’s urbane smile didn’t alter either. ‘Well, I cannot blame you for that, my lord. All the same the offer remains if you change your mind.’
‘You are the flower of courtesy,’ replied Harry. ‘However, I shall not change my mind.’
The conde’s eyes glinted briefly; then he bowed. ‘Well, then, I can only wish you a safe journey. Now, if you will excuse me, I will return to my other guests.’
As he walked away Elena shivered a little. Harry regarded her with concern.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’
‘Yes. Quite all right, I thank you.’
‘Are you sure? You look a little pale.’
In truth the conde’s advances had left her feeling shaken. He was undoubtedly an experienced womaniser, and now she wondered uneasily if he had sensed something about her that had led him to try his luck. Such men tended to be intuitive. He could not possibly know about her past but the incident left an unpleasant taste. It annoyed her that she had laid herself open to such attentions; she was clearly out of practice when it came to social functions like this one.
‘It’s my fault,’ she replied. ‘I should not have come out here alone, only the room was so hot and I needed some air. I didn’t think anyone would even notice.’
‘You are entitled to take the air without being propositioned by a cur.’
She hugged herself defensively. ‘Odious man.’
He frowned. ‘He didn’t try to...’
‘Nothing like that, thank goodness.’
‘As well for him that he did not.’
‘What would you have done? Hit him?’
‘No, killed him.’
Seeing his expression then she was left in no doubt that he meant it. The realisation sent a different kind of shiver down her spine.
Harry kept the lid on his ire. While the thought of any man making suggestive remarks to his wife was an affront, he was glad that he’d been able to nip the situation in the bud and so avoid a very public confrontation. Villanueva had evidently been of the same mind. Having been warned off he wouldn’t try and renew his addresses to Elena.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to cause trouble.’
‘You didn’t create that situation. He did.’ Harry put his arms around her. ‘You have no need to apologise and no need to be afraid. He can’t hurt you.’
The gentleness in his voice was like balm and she relaxed against him. ‘It was his manner I found so disagreeable.’
He dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘I won’t let anyone hurt you again.’
She looked up quickly and her gaze met his. The intensity of that piercing look caused her pulse to quicken. Very slowly he bent closer until his lips brushed hers.
Harry checked a little then, suddenly afraid that, after all she had endured at the hands of men, such advances might not be welcome from him either.
She felt him hesitate and gently returned the kiss. Thus reassured, he drew her closer. Immediately, all thought of Villanueva was swept away by a flood of sensation in which chill was replaced by delicious, glowing warmth. The glow kindled to flame. Elena pressed closer, her body moulding itself to his, and the kiss became deeper. Now there was no fear, only increasing desire and she surrendered to it, giving herself up to the moment.
Harry restrained the urge to crush her in his arms and let his own desire have free rein. He had no wish to frighten or, worse, repel her. What mattered was that she should enjoy this and want more. Eventually he drew back, looking into her face.
‘I think we should go back inside.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Otherwise I may lose what little self-control I have left.’
‘That might cause a few raised eyebrows.’
‘I fear it would do a lot more than that.’
The implications brought a rosy blush to her cheeks. At the same time it caused a surge of hope that he really did want her, after all. If they’d been alone... Her blush deepened. She had no idea where so bold a thought had come from and was only glad he couldn’t read her mind just then.
Harry surveyed her appreciatively. ‘Do you know how very lovely you are when you blush like that?’
Her neck and face grew hotter. His smile did nothing for her composure at all. ‘You are enjoying this, aren’t you?’
‘You have no idea.’ The tone was both mischievous and provocative.
‘It’s no use, my lord. I shall not rise to this teasing.’
‘What a shame. I shall have to try harder.’
With that he took her back to the ballroom. If she had imagined he’d relinquish her hand, then she was mistaken. He kept a firm hold of it until the next measure struck up. Then he led her onto the floor. As they moved through the steps every look and touch achieved heightened significance and there could be no mistaking the look in his eyes. Her pulse quickened in response. At that moment desire outweighed fear and she found herself anticipating the time when they would be alone together.
Eventually the company retired from the ballroom and sat down to supper. Elena made polite conversation with those around h
er but in reality only one person interested her. It seemed she was not alone. Several women vied for Harry’s attention with smiling faces and inviting looks in their eyes but, although he was courteous, their blandishments seemed to make no impression on him. More than once Elena intercepted envious glances and experienced a little thrill of pride that he was her husband. She knew that most of these women had married at the behest of their families and it appeared that not all were entirely satisfied with their lot. If Harry had shown the least bit of interest she guessed it would have been followed up with alacrity. The thought sat ill with her and she realised then that she had no wish to share him.
It was late when they eventually took their leave. Their host bade them farewell with a charming smile. The previous incident might never have happened, save that he held Elena’s hand a little longer than was strictly necessary. She ignored it. He didn’t matter and after this evening the chances were they wouldn’t meet again. She wasn’t at all sorry to see the last of him.
Harry handed her into the carriage and then climbed in after her. As the vehicle pulled away he settled back in his seat, surveying her steadily. ‘Did you enjoy yourself this evening?’
‘With the exception of the five minutes I spent with the conde, very much.’
‘Good. I’m afraid you’ll have to live on it for a while. We leave tomorrow.’
‘The sooner we leave, the sooner you will meet Sanchez,’ she replied, ‘and that is why you came here in the first place.’
‘The thought of more days on the road doesn’t daunt you, then?’
‘Not unduly.’
‘You are forbearing. Most women would have objected most strenuously by now.’ He smiled faintly. ‘But then you are not most women, are you?’
She was unsure how to respond to that and he saw it.
‘I meant that as a compliment, my dear. Very much so.’
Her heart beat a little faster. This evening their relationship was almost back to the way it had been before that charged conversation about Badajoz. Nor did she want that to change.
Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 15
