a bath for you, my lord.’
‘Wonderful. I’m beginning to smell rank.’
‘I reckon we’ve both smelt far worse.’
Harry grinned. ‘True enough.’ He tugged off a boot and then set to work on the other. ‘All the same, we’re not on campaign now and I’m not sitting down to dine in polite company until I’ve washed off all the dust.’
‘Aye, t’roads haven’t improved much since we left, have they?’
‘Unfortunately not.’ The other boot came off and Harry began to loosen his neck cloth. ‘Still, we’re here now and if there is any evidence of what happened to my brother this is where it’ll be.’
‘Let’s hope summat comes to light soon, then, my lord.’
Relaxing in the tub soon afterwards, Harry wholeheartedly endorsed that sentiment. Coming here was a long shot but it had to be done. One way or another, the doubt must be resolved. He hadn’t realised until then just how far he had been keeping hope alive. If anyone could find the information he needed it would be Don Manuel and, indeed, the man had shown himself to be a model of courtesy thus far. With his help Harry would find the answers he sought.
On the practical side there was Jack Hawkes. Ordinarily no manservant would have dreamed of or been permitted to address his master with such easy familiarity. But then, Harry reflected, there was nothing remotely ordinary about him. War formed a bond between men and, as a former member of Harry’s company during the Peninsular War, Hawkes had proved his worth a hundred times over. When the war ended and the force was demobilised he’d stayed on in the capacity of personal valet. Harry was glad of it; there were few men who were as discreet and none he trusted more.
As he dried himself and dressed he wondered whether there would be other company at dinner that evening. He had assumed that Don Manuel was married but had no idea if the wife was still living, or whether there were other relatives in the household. On arrival earlier he thought he had detected someone at an upstairs window, but the angle of view and the reflection on the glass made it hard to be sure. It would be interesting to find out.
Concha finished fastening her mistress’s gown and then stepped back, eyeing it critically. ‘It looks well, but … is red the best choice, under the circumstances?’
‘Under the circumstances it’s the only choice.’
‘I thought you would say that.’ The maid smiled wryly. ‘Your aunts won’t like it.’
‘They disapprove of me anyway. Besides, virginal white would be inappropriate now.’ Elena glanced at the clock and sighed. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go down there. The thought of another meal in that company has no appeal whatever.’
‘I know. All the same, it will be better if you do.’
‘Lull them into a sense of false security, you mean?’
‘If you appear to be following domestic protocols they are less likely to suspect anything. Then, when you have conceived your plan, they will be taken by surprise.’
Elena thought she could probably manage the protocols part, but the plan was another matter. In spite of racking her brains for a solution she had still not come up with anything feasible.
‘I’d better go. Wish me luck.’
‘Always,’ said Concha.
Elena squeezed her arm gently and smiled. Then, taking a deep breath, she headed for the door.
Chapter Two
When Harry arrived in the salón just before the appointed hour, it was to find Don Manuel already present. With him were four others. The two gentlemen, both with greying hair, appeared to be in their late forties. Both were of short stature and tending to corpulence. The two ladies looked older and both were expensively if severely gowned in black. If either ever had pretensions to beauty it was no longer evident. Nor was this deficiency ameliorated by their haughty and unsmiling demeanour. Don Manuel introduced them as his sisters, Doña Inéz and Doña Urraca. The gentlemen, Don Fernando and Don Esteban, were cousins.
As the introductions were performed Harry made a formal bow. Doña Inéz inclined her head in acknowledgement and offered a faint condescending smile that stopped well short of her dark eyes.
‘You honour us with your presence, Lord Henry. I trust that your journey here was satisfactory.’
‘Thank you, yes.’
‘I do not care to travel myself,’ she replied. ‘It is too fatiguing and the state of the roads leaves much to be desired.’
He agreed that they did. Thus encouraged, Doña Inéz went on to cover the hazards of ruts, dust, brigands and heatstroke. She was just embarking on a comprehensive condemnation of all the inns she had ever stayed in, when the salón door opened again. Harry glanced round and then, as he set eyes on the newcomer, all other thoughts went out of his head.
Elena paused on the threshold, hoping that her composure wouldn’t desert her now. Concha was right; it was important to play along for a while. Her gaze swept the room in distaste. With their dark clothing her relatives reminded her of nothing so much as a gathering of crows around their prey. They had shown about the same amount of compassion too. Then she noticed the tall figure standing beside Aunt Inéz. The man had his back to her but, as the conversation died down around him, he glanced round to find the reason.
Elena caught her breath, recognising him at once. However, that former fleeting glance through the window hadn’t done him justice; to begin with he made all the other men in the room look short, even her uncle. The lean, broad-shouldered frame suggested both strength and energy and was shown off to advantage by formal evening dress. It was severe, almost austere, and a perfect complement for his dark hair. The face, which she had formerly thought arresting, was rather more than that, like the cool grey eyes that were now surveying her steadily. The effect was to create an odd fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach.
The silence intensified. Then her uncle stepped forward. ‘Lord Henry, may I present my niece Elena?’
Harry stared, taking in the slender and willowy figure in the deep red gown. Ebony hair framed a face whose sculptural beauty was accentuated by a complexion that reminded him of ivory and roses. Her brown eyes were flecked with purest amber and, just then, expressive of some strong emotion that resisted precise identification. Curiosity stirred. Then, recollecting his manners, he made his bow.
She returned a graceful curtsey. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, my lord.’
‘The pleasure is mine,’ he replied, with perfect sincerity.
‘May I ask what brings you to Madrid?’
He summarised his mission briefly. ‘Your uncle has kindly offered his assistance.’
‘Then I hope his enquiries will be successful.’
‘Thank you, although after all this time I dare not hold out great hope.’
‘Even a little hope is better than none,’ she replied.
‘You
