Redemption of a Fallen Woman by Joanna Fulford Read Free Book Online Page A

chance?’ he asked.
    ‘No, it would have been too risky. Concha purchased them from a livery stable. She made the owner an offer he couldn’t refuse.’
    ‘I’ll wager he was delighted.’
    She laughed. ‘They’re not exactly bloodstock, are they? But then good looks aren’t everything.’
    ‘True enough.’ The horse was no longer uppermost in his mind; rather it was the way that laughter lit her face. It suited her. He thought he’d like to see her laugh more often. He couldn’t help noticing either that her current attire suited her very well too, confirming all his earlier notions about her figure. Nor did he miss the pistol in her belt.
    ‘I assume that isn’t for decoration.’
    ‘You assume correctly.’
    ‘Where did you learn to shoot?’
    ‘My father taught me. He thought it an essential part of my education.’ Elena gave him a sideways glance. ‘How do you come to speak Spanish so well?’
    ‘I spent many years in your country during the war.’
    ‘In the diplomatic service?’
    ‘In the army.’
    She felt a sudden knot of tension in her stomach. ‘I see.’ Framing her next words carefully she went on, ‘You must have been involved in a lot of actions.’
    ‘Enough to last me a lifetime.’
    ‘War leaves a bitter legacy, does it not?’
    The words were an uncanny echo of a former conversation, one that Harry would have preferred to forget.
    ‘It’s something I choose not to dwell on,’ he said.
    She nodded. ‘Probably most of those who lived through it feel the same. Yet life can never be as it was before.’
    ‘We do the best we can.’
    ‘My sister has been lucky—Dolores, I mean. She has a good man and, now, three children.’
    ‘Her husband is English, I collect.’
    ‘Yes. He was a soldier too, a gentleman of means but not of high birth. They met at the start of the war. There was opposition to the match—Dolores was intended for a wealthy Spanish nobleman—but she wore our father down eventually. Our aunts never forgave either of them, of course.’
    ‘That doesn’t entirely surprise me.’
    ‘Are you married?’
    ‘No. I once hoped to be, but my fiancée died in the war.’
    It was out almost before he’d realised, but then her question had caught him unawares. The answer awakened a host of painful memories. His jaw tightened. Belén had died because he’d failed her. If he’d followed his instinct and married her at once he could have taken her away and she would have been safe. The consequences of that decision haunted him still.
    Elena surveyed him with quiet sympathy. ‘I’m so sorry.’
    ‘So am I.’
    She would have liked to know more but it was clearly dangerous ground and she had no wish to alienate him. He must have been very much in love. Indeed, it seemed he still grieved for the woman he had lost. She was aware of a sensation very like envy. Her betrothed had never cared like that, had not cared at all, in fact—only she hadn’t discovered it until she needed him most. The memory was bitter and she pushed it away. Harry Montague’s lady had been lucky in that respect at least.
    ‘My father died in the war.’
    ‘Your uncle mentioned the fact.’ As soon as the words were out he cursed mentally. He hadn’t meant to reveal any part of that private after-dinner conversation.
    Elena kept her voice level. ‘Did he relate the circumstances?’
    Harry hesitated, but decided it was pointless to lie. ‘Briefly, yes.’
    ‘I see.’ Although it was a difficult subject she was rather relieved that her uncle had been frank with him about her past. It would save further explanations. ‘Well, after what happened I could not stay in Badajoz.’
    His heart leapt towards his throat. ‘Badajoz?’
    ‘Yes. My family home was there. Did not my uncle tell you that?’
    ‘No, he said only that it was soldiers who performed the outrage. I assumed they were French.’
    ‘Atrocities were not confined to any one military group,’ she replied. ‘It was British