Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 0,56

anticipated was the effect it might have. In spite of the weeks they had been together it was like seeing her for the first time. For a moment or two he could only stare, and his tongue seemed to have lost contact with his brain. With an effort he recovered himself.

'You look stunning.' Immediately he thought the words sounded lame. She was gorgeous and he knew that every other man present tonight was going to think so too. For an instant Villanueva's image impinged on his thoughts. He pushed it aside. Others could look their fill, but she belonged to him. The realisation made him feel both proud and protective.

There could be no doubting the sincerity of his initial response to her entrance. Feeling a little more encouraged, Elena turned slowly to let him see the new gown to full advantage.

'The seamstress has done a fine job, no?'

'She certainly has.' He decided that every last penny of the cost had been worth it. 'Although I can't help feeling that you show off the gown to advantage rather than the other way around.'

'It's an improvement on breeches and boots, I think.'

'A vast improvement,' he agreed.

The admiration in his eyes created a glow of pleasure deep inside. Moreover, she was supremely conscious of how well formal evening dress became him, enhancing every line of that lithe and virile form. He looked every inch the nobleman he was. His attention was also deeply disconcerting.

To conceal her inner trepidation, Elena made to adjust her shawl. He stepped forward at once.

'Allow me.'

He draped the fabric carefully across her shoulders. As he did so his fingers brushed the bare skin at the back of her neck, a light and possibly unintended gesture that sent a frisson down her spine. Then he stepped back and offered her his arm.

'Shall we go?'

A hired carriage took them the short distance to the mansion of the Conde de Villanueva. Lights blazed in every window and the queue of vehicles outside proclaimed an event of some importance. Harry and Elena joined the line of guests waiting to greet their hosts. The conde greeted them warmly, his gaze lingering on Elena with undisguised admiration. He bestowed on her a dazzling smile.

'Welcome to my house. May I present my wife, the Condesa Maria?'

The condesa was a pretty, dark-haired lady with an elfin figure. She smiled at her guests and bade them welcome. Elena returned the smile.

'Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers. They were a delightful surprise.'

The condesa inclined her head graciously. 'You're most welcome.'

Harry registered this with wry amusement. Either his suspicions had been entirely without foundation or else Villanueva was a lot smarter than he'd given the man credit for.

The condesa introduced them to some of the other new arrivals. When the necessary courtesies had been observed, they made their way through the antechamber that adjoined the ballroom. Curious eyes followed their entrance.

'You seem to have created a stir, my sweet,' murmured Harry, 'but don't let it go to your head. The first two dances are mine.'

'If you say so, my lord.'

'I do say so. Furthermore, I'm prepared to back my claim against all comers.'

Elena raised an eyebrow. 'Well, I wouldn't wish to cause a scene.'

'Wars have been fought for less.'

The tone was light but the expression in his eyes implied rather more. The effect was to make her flesh tingle. She had no desire to dance with anyone else even though good manners would likely make that inescapable. As she looked around all the other men in the room seemed decidedly lacking in comparison. She had not missed the curious and covert looks that came their way. Already the women were whispering behind their fans. Of course, Harry was hard to miss, being a head taller than most of the Spaniards present. Only the conde came near to him in height and good looks. Unable to help herself, Elena found herself making comparisons. Villanueva knew he was attractive to women but, in spite of his polished manner, there was about him the innate arrogance and hauteur of the hidalgo class. Harry's birth was arguably better but he made no parade of it, nor did he trade on his good looks. He was also possessed of natural kindness and patience. Of the two men she knew with absolute certainty which one she preferred.

When the orchestra struck up, Harry claimed her hand for the first dance. It was a pavanne. The dance was slow and graceful, a measure from a bygone