Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 0,57

age, but then, she acknowledged, Spain was behindhand in such matters. She guessed it hadn't been danced in England for many years and it surprised her that Harry should know it. Yet clearly he did, and well too. So much surprised her about this man and continued to sharpen her curiosity too. As they moved through the steps his gaze never left her and, although it was impossible to read his thoughts, her entire being resonated with awareness of it. All else ceased to exist for her except for the man and the music. This was quite unlike the first time they danced together; it was more intimate and more disturbing. Did he feel the same? Did he feel anything for her at all, or was this the triumph of hope over experience?

When, at length, the pavanne ended it was replaced by a cotillion. The mood and tempo were different but it was still exhilarating to dance with him. She caught his eye and saw him smile, an unaffected and natural smile that sent a pulse of warmth through her body's core. She could see other women watching them and once or twice registered envy in their eyes. When she looked at the majority of men in the room it was easy to understand why.

Without her being aware of it Elena was attracting attention too, and when Harry led her from the floor they were greeted by their host and two or three others who wished for an introduction. Those were followed up by invitations for future dances. Harry resigned himself to the inevitable. Much as he would have liked to keep her to himself all evening, it would have been the height of bad manners. He watched in silent chagrin as she walked away with another man.

Villanueva read him accurately. 'That is the penalty of having a beautiful wife, my friend.'

'Well, you should know.'

The Spaniard grinned. 'I content myself with the knowledge that Maria will always be with me at the end of the evening.'

Harry reflected that he would be the one to take Elena home, a notion that sent his mind in distinctly pleasurable directions. With an effort he brought it back. It was too easy to daydream about his wife, fantasies that had no foundation in anything except wishful thinking. He summoned a casual smile.

'Won't you introduce me to some of your friends, Villanueva? It'll prevent me from harbouring jealous thoughts.'

His companion laughed. 'Gladly.'

The conde's guests admitted Harry very readily into their company. Quite apart from his imposing presence he aroused curiosity too, since English lords were not a common feature of polite society in Seville. His fluency in the language did him no disservice either, and he was soon engaged in conversation with a group of gentlemen at the far end of the room. From time to time he glanced towards the dancers. Judging from her smile Elena seemed to be enjoying herself. She had probably put him out of her mind. His jaw tightened and he turned away, trying to concentrate on what his companions were saying.

Elena curtsied to her last partner and left the floor. The room was hot now, the air heavy with the scent of beeswax and flowers and perfume. A cooling drink would be more than welcome. The vague memory of a punch bowl in the anteroom directed her steps that way. In fact, memory served her correctly and with a sense of relief she ladled some of the liquid into a cup and took a sip. It was delicious.

Opposite, an open door led onto a terrace. Elena glanced round but everyone else seemed engaged in conversation so taking advantage of the fact she slipped outside for a few moments. Although it was still offically spring, the evening air was pleasant. Seville had a different climate from Madrid and the northerly provinces. The sky was clear, a sickle moon hanging amid myriad stars. Pools of light from the ballroom windows illuminated the flower beds and part of the lawn below. The rest of the garden was in deep velvet shadow where the soft chirring of cicadas mingled with the sound of music drifting from the ballroom. She sipped her drink and relaxed a little, enjoying the fresh air.

'Out here all alone, my lady?'

Elena started and turned quickly. At first glance the tall figure in the doorway might have been mistaken for Harry, but the voice belonged to the Conde de Villanueva. She was conscious of a stab of disappointment but recovered