Redemption of a Fallen Woman (21 page)

Far from expressing contrition the reply was a guffaw of laughter. It was infectious and she caught it.

‘You’re a wicked man, Harry Montague. You know that?’

‘No, my sweet, a wicked man would have thrown you in. As it is, I’ll settle for a lesser penalty.’

She eyed him with mock hauteur. ‘And what is that?’

‘A kiss.’

‘Do you think I’m going to kiss you after that?’

The grey eyes gleamed. ‘Do you really think you will not?’

‘Kiss me if you can, my lord.’

He reached for her waist but Elena dodged out of the way, laughing. Harry lifted an eyebrow.

‘Come here, Elena.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

His expression was suggestive of polite interest. Then he lunged towards her. She dodged again, feinting and weaving to elude him. Undaunted he pursued her, coming dangerously close to success several times. Realising her peril, Elena turned and fled. He caught her in half a dozen strides. An arm of steel slid around her waist and drew her round to face him, both of them breathless and laughing. For several heartbeats they remained thus before laughter faded and became something altogether more intense. She swayed towards him, surrendering to his kiss. His hold tightened, crushing her against him, and the kiss became passionate. She returned it hungrily, wishing only that it had been motivated by love.

Chapter Twenty

H
arry did not expect to hear from Señor Sanchez for several days at the earliest, so he was pleasantly surprised when, after only two, he received a note requesting him to return to the house. He tried not to let excitement run away with him, but it was difficult. Elena saw the strain in him and understood it.

‘I do hope this meeting will bring all you wish for, Harry.’

He raised her hand to his lips. ‘Thank you. I hope so too.’

‘You cannot have come so far for nothing.’

‘Let us trust that the Almighty hasn’t so cruel a sense of humour.’

It had been a long time since she had trusted the Almighty over anything, but she didn’t mention it. Harry needed support now, not cynicism. She smiled.

‘Let us trust to a favourable outcome.’

‘I’m sorry to leave you again, but it won’t be for very long.’

‘You need have no anxiety over that. I shall occupy myself until you return.’

‘Truly you are a gem among women.’

She conquered hurt. A gem was all very well, but it was not the same as being the love of his life. ‘As long as you know that.’

Harry’s gaze gleamed. ‘I have known it for some time, my sweet.’ Reluctantly he released his hold on her hand. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

‘Buena suerte.’

‘Thank you. I need all the luck I can get.’

After he had gone, Elena paced the floor awhile in pensive silence. Then, needing some fresh air, she betook herself to the garden once more. It was pleasant to sit in the sunshine and feel the warm breeze life her hair off the back of her neck. Soon she would have to accustom herself to a new country and a new climate, but the thought didn’t dismay her. As long as she was with Harry it didn’t matter. She had never imagined that she could feel so much for one man, but he had become indispensable to the point where it was impossible to visualise life without him. When they were together he had her full attention; when they were apart she thought about him all the time. He had but to enter a room for her heart to leap. His slightest look or touch was sufficient to set every nerve tingling. She wished it could be the same for him, but his heart was spoken for and her rival was unassailable. One could not compete with the dead.

* * *

Just then, the subject of her thoughts was engrossed in rather different ones of his own. For all that he tried to control it he couldn’t quite suppress the feeling of anticipation building in his breast. Sanchez wouldn’t have sent for him unless he had something significant to relate, and that meant he had been in contact with his nephew. Harry could only hope that Jamie’s erstwhile companion did indeed have a sense of honour. He could not imagine his late brother remaining long in company with a man who had not. The memory of Jamie was poignant and no doubt always would be, but, God willing, his family would eventually know the truth.

Being certain of the way now, he and Jack made good progress and arrived at the Sanchez house within half an hour of leaving the inn. They were admitted and shown into the same room as before. They had not long to wait before their host appeared and with him another, younger man, whom Harry put in his early thirties. He was slightly taller than the uncle but, like him, of a stocky build. A distinct facial resemblance was there too, especially about the mouth and nose. Harry’s heart began to beat a little faster.

The older man smiled and inclined his head towards his guests. ‘Thank you for coming so promptly, my lord.’ He gestured towards his companion. ‘May I present my nephew, Xavier?’

Gladness and grief mingled in Harry’s breast and, for a moment, made it difficult to speak. He conquered it.

‘It has long been my most ardent wish to speak with you,
señor.
Believe me when I say you have my gratitude for agreeing to this meeting.’

‘My uncle outlined the reason for your visit,’ replied Xavier. ‘I could do no less.’

The older man interjected. ‘I hope that you will forgive my earlier reticence, my lord, but I could not commit my nephew to a meeting like this without first consulting him.’

‘Understandable,’ said Harry, ‘given the circumstances.’

‘The matter is delicate and no doubt you will wish to be private. I will therefore leave you to talk.’

With that he excused himself. Jack, receiving a look from his master, followed in his wake, closing the door behind them. For a moment or two, neither Harry nor Xavier spoke. Then, the latter gestured to a chair.

‘Please, won’t you sit down, my lord?’

Harry accepted the offered seat and watched as his companion took the one opposite. Xavier surveyed him steadily.

‘Ask me what you will and I will answer as truthfully as I can.’

‘I know that you and my late brother were colleagues, and that the work you undertook was concerned with intelligence.’

‘That is so.’

‘What I need to know are the details concerning his death. Until those are established the rightful heir cannot succeed to his inheritance. It is a matter of supreme importance for my family.’ Harry paused. ‘But, quite apart from the legal reasons pertaining to this, there are more personal ones.’

‘I understand.’

Harry nodded. ‘If you will, then, tell me what occurred that day.’

‘It was during the British push for Toulouse. We—your brother and I—had been on a mission to gather intelligence about French troop numbers and movements. The situation was chaotic as it always is in times of war, and reliable information hard to come by. We were sent ahead to reconnoitre and then report back.’

‘To whom?’

‘To Sir George Scovell.’

Harry lifted an eyebrow. He knew the name well. Originally part of the Fourth Queen’s Own Dragoons, Scovell had proved to be an expert at deciphering codes, in particular the
Grand Chiffre
which had provided the allies with information crucial to Wellington’s victory at Vittoria. Scovell had also been in charge of the motley crew known as the Army Guides, men of differing nationalities, chosen for their linguistic abilities and other individual skills, who had gathered information vital to the war effort.

‘I see,’ he said. It was quite true. The bigger picture was now beginning to emerge with startling clarity. Yet it should have come as no surprise to discover that Jamie had worked for Scovell. The man had only ever employed the best.

‘The river was running higher and faster than was usual,’ Xavier went on. ‘However, the nearest bridge was ten miles away, and we had reason to believe it was being held by the French in any case, so we decided to risk the crossing.’ He sighed. ‘Jamie went first. It was ever his way.’

‘Yes, it was.’

‘He was about halfway across when his horse stumbled and lost its footing. It went down and took Jamie with it. I saw him come to the surface but he couldn’t find his feet because of the current or the uneven river bottom—or both.’

Harry felt a chill prickle along his neck as he experienced a moment of
déjà vu
—he saw Elena’s horse stumble and fall, saw her pitched into the water, felt its cold shock on his own flesh as he went in after her... With an effort he controlled his voice.

‘Go on.’

‘Jamie surfaced and struck out for the shore.’

‘My brother was a strong swimmer. The distance would have been easy for him.’

‘Yes, but he was wearing a heavy greatcoat and boots as well as his other clothing. And he was armed. The weight must have dragged him down and then the cold and the current did the rest.’ Xavier paused. ‘I rode in after him but it was as though the river had swallowed him up. I rode downstream for some way, hoping he might be washed ashore, but there was no trace of him.’

Harry drew a deep breath, seeing it all in his mind’s eye. In the same way, but for the grace of God, he might have lost Elena. The parallels were uncanny and he felt suddenly cold.

‘I’m sure you did all that you could,’ he said. ‘What happened afterwards?’

‘I continued with our mission. Jamie insisted that if anything were to happen to one of us, the other would ensure that the task was completed. I knew I must keep faith with him. Therefore, as agreed, I reported in with the military information and informed the authorities of his loss.’

‘Another of my older brothers was serving in Spain at the time. He tried to find you after he was given the news, but could not.’

‘Sir George had more work for me to do and, as usual, I was not permitted to divulge its nature to anyone, nor where I was going.’

Harry could well believe it. Personal grief had no bearing on the machinery of war, and Scovell would never have employed a man who could not be discreet.

‘I feel privileged to have met and worked with your brother, a man both trustworthy and likeable.’

‘Thank you.’ Harry smiled faintly. ‘He had that effect on many people.’

‘You must have cared for him very deeply, I think.’

‘Yes.’ Just then Harry found it impossible to articulate his feelings. Although he had known the broad outline of the story for a long time, hearing it related at first hand brought it home more sharply than ever before, underlining the reality of his brother’s death. With an effort he gathered his thoughts. ‘Will you set down the facts in writing, and then swear to their veracity in front of witnesses?’

‘If you wish.’

‘It is imperative. My family needs to know the truth.’ He paused. ‘One more thing...what can you tell me about my brother’s marriage?’

Xavier regarded him in surprise. ‘I know nothing of the matter, my lord. My conversations with your brother were concerned with our work.’

‘But you knew he was married?’

‘I assumed he might have a wife back in England. It was not unusual among the officer class.’

‘Not England. Not then anyway. My brother was married in Burgos, during the war.’

‘In Burgos?’

‘Yes, to a Miss Alicia Walters.’

‘I regret that I never had the pleasure of meeting the lady.’

‘It was something of a whirlwind romance, I understand.’

‘It must have been, my lord. We were there for less than three weeks.’ Xavier gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘I imagine he must have met her some time before that.’

Harry stared at him. ‘You were with Jamie in Burgos?’

‘Yes, I was with him. Well, not all the time, of course. As he was an officer we mixed in rather different social circles.’

‘But surely, if he had married you would have known about it?’

‘Not if he chose to keep it a secret. Besides, it was never my place to enquire about such things.’

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘All attention was on the advance into France. If a couple chose to slip away and marry they might have done so without attracting undue attention.’

‘I believe the wedding was performed by an army chaplain. It would not have gone unremarked.’

‘Stranger things have happened in times of war,’ replied Xavier. ‘You could ask the man.’

‘So I could—if he were alive.’

‘The witnesses, then.’

‘Dead too, I understand.’

‘Your brother was always discreet, my lord, and silence can be bought when necessary.’

‘True—on both counts.’

Xavier nodded. ‘I will reproduce this story in writing and bring the document to you tomorrow. Then, if you wish, I will swear to its veracity before witnesses of your choice.’

‘I’m obliged to you.’

‘I think the obligation is mine, my lord.’

The two men rose and shook hands, arranging to meet at eleven the following morning. Then Harry took his leave. Jack was waiting in the courtyard and now threw his master a quizzical look. When it appeared to go unnoticed he claimed the privilege of a trusted aide.

‘Might I ask if your visit was a success, my lord?’

‘Yes, Jack, it was. I have the information I came for. The formalities will be concluded tomorrow.’

‘That’s splendid. Congratulations, my lord.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Journey weren’t a wasted effort, after all.’

‘Indeed not.’

For all that the tone was level Harry’s mind was whirling as he tried to assimilate what he had learned from Sanchez. Jamie had always played a deep game and always for his own reasons, but this was beyond everything. Had he kept his marriage secret because he knew his family would disapprove of his bride’s lowly connections? Was he intending to wait until it was a
fait accompli
before breaking the news? It seemed most likely and, of course, his brother hadn’t intended to get killed. Jamie went his own way and once his mind was made up he remained resolute. If Alicia had won his heart he would have married her even if Napoleon’s entire army had tried to prevent it.

Harry could not blame his brother for following the dictates of his heart. Had he not done the same with Belén? A doctor’s daughter, no matter how attractive and well-educated, would never be considered a suitable wife for the son of a duke—even a younger son. Not that he’d cared a jot for that. He smiled ruefully to himself. It seemed he’d had even more in common with Jamie than either of them had known. And now there was Elena. Her breeding was impeccable, her lineage every bit as good as his, but she was still a foreigner. His family were just going to have to get used to the idea for she had found a place in his heart that no one else could fill. He didn’t know exactly how or when that had happened, only the truth of it.

Now that his quest was finally over he could put his mind entirely on their future. There were so many things to be discussed. Elena had never been asked what she wanted. Forced into marriage, she had followed him uncomplainingly, made light of discomforts and dangers, and been supportive in every way possible. It was high time that he began to put her first, to treat her as the lady she was.

On his return to the inn he found her in their chamber. She had been reading a newspaper but, hearing him enter, rose eagerly to greet him. He possessed himself of her hands and kissed them. Then he sat down, drawing her with him onto the window seat, and related the substance of his conversation with Xavier Sanchez.

Elena smiled tremulously. ‘Oh, Harry, at last. I’m so pleased for you.’