been a matter of conscience. However, war spawned many atrocities.
Harry shut his eyes, trying not to think about Badajoz, but the darkness was suddenly filled with flames and gunfire and the shouts of drunken soldiers—British soldiers. For three days they had run amok in an orgy of murder, arson, rapine and plunder. Filthy, blood-stained, crazy with drink and consumed with greed, they spared none. When their officers tried to intervene the mob turned on them too. He swallowed hard, feeling sweat start on the palms of his hands, once again watching helplessly as a man fell under a rain of blows from the butt ends of muskets, the scene backlit by the ruddy glow of burning buildings. And in one of those buildings was Belén….
Work held the memories at bay most of the time, along with the social round. For a while it was possible to forget. It was only when he lay in bed at night that the memories revived, often in terrifying dreams. Time had helped, of course, but had never entirely eradicated them. And then fate had taken a hand and brought him back to Spain….
He turned over and thumped the pillow hard. In spite of everything, he had promised Ross to do all in his power to find the proof they needed about Jamie’s death. But what if the proof he sought couldn’t be found? What if Sanchez was dead now? Harry pushed the thought away, unwilling to contemplate the thought of failure. Too much hung in the balance. He had a job to do and past demons couldn’t be allowed to get in the way.
Chapter Three
It was pleasantly warm in the garden, the morning air scented by late roses in the borders adjoining the high walls. Elena scanned the latter covertly. Without a rope or a ladder there was no way to scale them; the gate that led into the lane beyond was made of iron-studded oak and kept securely locked. In spite of its shrubs and flowering beds and attractive fountain, the garden was as much a prison as the house.
She had carefully reconnoitred the property as far as she had been able, making a note of all doors and windows. Concha had filled in the gaps, assessing those areas frequented by the servants.
‘All the downstairs windows are barred, Doña Elena. The only possibility is to use one of the bedrooms, preferably the one that looks out over the lane yonder.’ Concha jerked her head towards the garden wall that bordered the narrow roadway in question.
‘My thought exactly.’
‘A pair of knotted sheets should serve. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’
‘Hardly.’
‘The only problem is that the Englishman is currently using that bedroom.’
The Englishman! Elena bit her lip. Heaven knew she had met enough of them, but this man was different somehow. Everything about him proclaimed noble birth and education, but it was more than that. He lingered in the mind, conjuring all manner of unexpected and disturbing thoughts. Of course, such a man would attract the attention of women. It shocked her to find that she was not immune, after all. With an effort she forced herself to concentrate on what Concha was saying.
‘We’ll find a way. We have to.’
Elena nodded. ‘Yes, we do.’
‘I made sure to pack all the necessary clothing before we came. I put it in the bottom of my own box. I thought it less likely to be searched. The weapons are concealed in the usual place.’
‘Well done. What would I do without you, Concha?’
The maid regarded her steadily. ‘I think the boot is on the other foot. But for your honoured father my mother would have hanged and I would have perished. His compassion saved us both and gave us the chance of a future.’
‘Some future,’ said Elena. ‘Look where your loyalty has brought you. Your mother is dead and you …’
‘We have been through many trials together, you and I, and we will come through this. After all, we have escaped captivity before, and we have been threatened by experts, no?’
‘True.’
‘Remember El Lobo and his bandit thugs, to say nothing of the French?’
‘How could I forget?’
‘Well, then, how should your relatives intimidate you now?’
Elena grinned. ‘You’re right, of course. I …’
She broke off as her companion gave her arm a warning squeeze. Darting a glance along the path, she fully expected to see one of her aunts approaching. Instead it was a very different figure that hove into sight, a lean and virile figure whose presence caused her pulse to quicken. She drew a deep breath, collecting herself. Then she rose to greet him.
‘Lord Henry. What a pleasant surprise.’
Surveying her now Harry thought he could say the same. The blue morning gown became her well, emphasising the curves of her figure and enhancing her warm colouring and the lustrous coils of dark hair. This close proximity did nothing to abate the admiration he had felt at their first meeting, on the contrary. London had its share of beauties, but none who held his attention and certainly none who had such a very kissable mouth. She aroused sensations he’d imagined long dead. He caught himself there. This woman had no interest in him and anyway she was destined for a convent. All thoughts about her physical charms were completely inappropriate. Feeling distinctly guilty now, he adopted an expression of polite attention.
‘It seemed too fine a day to remain indoors. I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
‘Oh, no, not at all.’
‘This is a pleasant garden,’ he went on. ‘I don’t wonder that you should choose to sit out here.’
‘I prefer to be out of doors as a rule.’
‘So do I.’ He paused, unwilling to lose her company but not wishing to overstep the bounds of propriety either. He was well aware that the place was visible from the house and that if he invited Elena to sit with him it might well be misconstrued. Something more subtle was required. ‘I wonder if you would care to walk a little way.’
Elena hesitated but then inclined her head in acquiescence. ‘As you wish. Concha, you will accompany us.’
Harry hid a grimace. The maid was entirely de trop but, under the circumstances, an inescapable encumbrance.
As they set off Elena was careful to keep a foot of clear space between them. Concha fell in behind at a discreet distance. If anyone were to observe them from the house it was all above reproach. They strolled a little way in silence, though from time to time Elena shot a sideways glance at her companion. His proximity made her feel self-conscious—aware of his closeness to her fingertips, a feeling so unaccustomed that she felt unwontedly awkward.
‘I regret the need for a chaperone,’ she said then. ‘It isn’t because I don’t trust you.’
He smiled. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘It’s just that I must be seen to observe the required forms of behaviour. My aunts …’
‘You don’t have to explain. I understand perfectly.’
She gave him another
