fact, she was lacking as a wife in every respect. She wasn't a real woman. She would never be a real woman again.
* * *
As a consequence of the emotional upheaval the subject of the ball had been temporarily forgotten. It was resurrected the following afternoon when the gown was delivered. Elena eyed the box dispassionately.
'I wish to goodness there were some way of getting out of the engagement.'
Concha shook her head. 'I think you cannot, not without angering your husband further.'
'You're right. The only thing now is to put a brave face on the matter, but I never felt less like socialising in my life.'
'It's only for one night. Besides, it will provide a distraction.' Concha eyed the box on the table. 'Shall we have a look inside?'
'Why not?'
The maid removed the lid and then carefully pulled aside a layer of tissue paper. Then her eyes widened. 'Oh, my! This must have cost the earth.'
Almost reverently she lifted the dress from the box and unfolded it before holding it up for inspection. In spite of herself Elena could not refrain from uttering a gasp of delight.
'It's exquisite.'
Made of white silk jacquard it had puff sleeves and a low square neckline, with a fan of pleats below the bust. Below it the skirt fell away in smooth straight lines. Fine gold braid added the finishing touch to the bodice, caught in under the bosom and edging the neck and sleeves. It was a simple but elegant creation. Long gloves and a lace fan completed the ensemble along with a silken wrap.
'Try it on,' said Concha.
'All right.'
Elena took off her muslin dress and allowed Concha to help her into the ball gown. Then she crossed to the cheval glass, surveying her reflection critically. The woman who stared back was almost a stranger.
'I've had some pretty dresses in the past,' she said, 'but never anything as fine as this.'
'You look like a princess.'
'Thank you.' Elena turned, examining the gown from different angles. 'It does look well, doesn't it?'
'I think you will draw all eyes.'
There was only one pair of eyes that Elena wished to draw. Having made her a most generous gift, would Harry approve the result? There was only one way to find out. Her gaze met Concha's in the glass.
'I think I should start getting ready.'
The maid nodded. 'I've already requested hot water for your bath.'
When Elena had bathed she sat at the dressing table while her hair was arranged in a stylish knot. Soft curls framed her face. Two judiciously placed silver combs completed the effect. Then she applied a light touch of colour to her cheeks and lips before donning the gown. It fitted to perfection and, as she had envisaged, flattered the line of her figure and enhanced its curves. She turned this way and that before the mirror, studying the effect with a critical eye. Then she nodded.
'It looks well.'
Concha smiled. 'You look beautiful. You'll break a few hearts tonight, Dona Elena.'
Elena reflected sadly that there was only one heart that interested her now. Whether it was in her power to capture it was another matter. She slid her feet into white satin slippers and dabbed on some perfume before looping the fan over her wrist. Then she glanced at the clock.
'It's time to go.' She gave Concha's shoulder a gentle squeeze. 'I imagine we'll be late back so don't wait up.'
'Have a wonderful evening.'
'I'll do my best.'
With that Elena summoned up the remains of courage and went to the parlour to look for Harry.
Having a shrewd idea of the length and complexity of the female toilette on such occasions, Harry had tactfully organised a separate room in which to get ready for the ball. He had bathed and then shaved. In the meantime, Jack had performed wonders with creased clothing so that no wrinkle now marred the elegant costume. A critical look in the mirror confirmed that it would pass muster. Then, having readied himself, Harry retreated to the parlour to wait.
In a part of his mind he wondered whether he hadn't made a grave mistake in committing himself and Elena to this event. Yet, in spite of everything, he found himself looking forward to dancing with her. Whether she would feel the same was another matter. Since that fateful conversation they had been almost like strangers, behaving towards each other with cool civility. He didn't intend to let it become a habit.
Hearing the door open, he turned round, anticipating Elena's arrival. What he hadn't