Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 0,2

by a stone wall.'

Don Manuel eyed him shrewdly. 'I think you have some doubts about this matter, no?'

Harry nodded. 'There are questions in my mind, although they may just be the result of wishful thinking.' He paused. 'In the first place, my brother was an excellent swimmer. In the second, he worked for the Intelligence Service.'

'Interesting.'

'As time went on and we had no word, the family lost hope and assumed the worst. However, not long ago we received a letter from a solicitor, acting on behalf of a lady who claims to be Jamie's wife. This lady has a young child, a son....'

Understanding dawned on Don Manuel's face. 'And this son stands to inherit the title if his claim proves to be legitimate.'

'Exactly so.'

'Have you reason to doubt this lady's story?'

'She may be what she claims.'

'But you have reservations.'

'I'm trying to keep an open mind. In view of the circumstances though, it is essential that I discover the truth.'

'That is quite understandable.' Don Manuel set down his glass. 'I have contacts in the Intelligence Service here. They may be able to help. I will see what I can find out.'

'I would be most grateful.'

'In the meantime let me offer you the hospitality of my house.'

'You are most generous, but I couldn't possibly impose on you in that way.'

'Nonsense. It will be my pleasure. Mi casa es su casa.'

'Then I accept.'

'Good. That's settled, then.' The don rose. 'A room will be readied on the instant. Then, after you have rested from your journey, we will dine.'

* * *

The chamber to which Harry was later conducted proved to be large and comfortable. It was a courtesy he had not expected and, he admitted, far better than anything he would have met with at an inn. After the rigours of travel it would be a luxury to sleep in a decent bed again. He shrugged off his coat and then sat down to remove his boots, glancing across the room to where his manservant was unpacking a trunk.

'I'd like to bathe if that can be arranged, Jack.'

Jack Hawkes looked up and nodded. 'I thought you might, so I took t'liberty of bespeaking 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,