Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 0,50

of that, but he couldn't bring himself to go beyond the occasional kiss. What astonished her most of all was that she did want him to, that she wanted to trust him.

'Elena, there's something I need to tell you.'

His voice drew her out of her reverie. 'Oh?'

Her bright, expectant gaze made him feel worse. Most of all he dreaded the altered expression in her eyes that he knew must follow this conversation.

'You might want to sit down.'

Somewhat bemused now she settled herself in a chair nearby. 'Harry, what is it? Something you learned from Senor Garrido?'

'No.' He only wished it were that simple. 'It's nothing to do with that.'

'What, then?'

Before he could reply there was a knock at the door. Mentally stifling a curse he bade the caller enter. It was the patron and he was bearing a bouquet of hothouse flowers.

'These were delivered a few minutes ago,' he explained.

'By whom?' demanded Harry.

'A servant brought them, senor. He said to tell you that they come with the compliments of the Conde and Condesa de Villanueva.'

'Indeed.'

'Si, senor.' The patron beamed. 'Where do you wish me to put them?'

Harry bit back the response that came first to mind. 'On the table.'

When the man had complied Harry dismissed him. Elena rose and went to examine the flowers.

'They're beautiful. What a very kind attention.'

'Yes, isn't it?'

Something in his voice jarred a little. 'Harry? Is something the matter?'

He summoned a smile. 'Of course not. And you're right. It is kind.'

Elena relaxed again. 'Do you know, I can't recall the last time I saw flowers like these. Is not the scent delicious?'

'It certainly is.'

He moved closer and surveyed the bouquet, privately wondering if the condesa even knew of its existence. All he could see in his mind's eye was the handsome face of his erstwhile colleague and the way in which he had looked at Elena before. The image caused an unexpected and unwonted emotion. That the man should take the further liberty of expressing his admiration in this way was breathtaking arrogance. He took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. Then he felt ashamed of his response. It didn't matter. Why on earth was he overreacting to something so trivial? Let Elena enjoy the flowers.

She looked up. 'What was it you were going to tell me, before we were interrupted?'

'Nothing that won't keep,' he replied.

As soon as he'd said it he wished he hadn't. He needed to tell her the truth. Yet the moment had been lost and he felt rattled besides.

Elena regarded him quizzically. 'Are you sure?'

'Indeed.' He paused. 'Perhaps we should ask Concha to find a container for those flowers. Otherwise they'll wither.'

'Now you're changing the subject.'

For a few moments he was silent but under the weight of that steady gaze it was impossible to pretend. Elena was too perceptive to be easily deceived and he didn't want to deceive her in any case.

'It's something I've wanted to say but didn't know how.'

'I don't understand.'

'It concerns Belen, or rather the circumstances surrounding that tale.' He hesitated. 'What I've told you thus far is all true, but one detail is missing.'

'What detail?'

Harry steeled himself. 'The place where these events occurred was Badajoz.'

Elena was completely still, staring at him in appalled disbelief. 'Badajoz?' Then the implications began to dawn. 'Then you must have been among the British troops who...'

'I was among the British troops who besieged the town, and afterwards I was among the officers who tried to stop the looting.'

Disbelief vied with slow-burning anger. 'Why did you not tell me this before?'

'I wanted to but somehow the right moment never came along.'

'The right moment?'

He sighed. 'I know. There never could be a right moment for such a disclosure.'

'Yet we have discussed this subject before. There were opportunities to tell me.'

'In truth I did not know how.'

'But now you do?' Her heart thumped unpleasantly hard. This man was her husband, the man she most wanted to trust. How could he have waited so long to tell her?

'If you are prepared to hear it,' he replied.

A part of her wanted to fling the suggestion back in his teeth, but, in a more rational area of her mind, she knew that she needed to hear him. All the same this dilatoriness hurt beyond measure.

'Very well.'

The icy tone was at distinct variance with the burning anger and hurt he saw in her eyes and he cursed his tardiness. He should have said something long ago. Perhaps if he had got it out into the open earlier