Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [128]
His smile was full of sharp-edged humor. “The whole issue will be not whether Horatio Osmar was being vulgar on a park bench with a woman no one had ever heard of, or cares about except in principle, but whether our police and our judiciary are honest and efficient or not. And that, I think, is a question it were better not to raise.”
“Sir!” Carswell exploded, his face bright pink. “You go too far!”
Peter Valerius’s face barely changed expression. Only his eyebrows rose a little, and his voice remained perfectly level.
“Because it will cause a number of fears which are quite unfounded,” he continued, “but for which we have no effective proof that will calm those doubts once they have been disturbed.” A shadow of a smile crossed his face again and his eyes met Carswell’s.
Carswell could not justifiably sustain his anger. He had leaped to a hasty and mistaken conclusion, but the offense was still hot and hard inside him. Charlotte wondered briefly and with a mixture of pity and resentment whether it was some guilt of his own that made him defend where there had been no attack.
She glanced at Peter Valerius again, found his clever eyes watching her, and knew he had seen the reflection of a new thought across her mind.
She turned to Carswell.
“Do you think Mr. Osmar will succeed in his suit against the police?” she asked with interest.
Carswell composed himself with an effort and turned to her with all the politeness he could manage.
“I have no idea, Mrs. Pitt. It is something at which I could make no guess of value.”
“He has powerful friends.” Vespasia regained the conversation with a stiff face reflecting her disapproval. “They may exert influence on his behalf.”
Byam turned to her with slight surprise. “Surely that is natural, Lady Cumming-Gould? Would not anyone in such a position seek all the assistance available?”
“I do not know.” The ghost of a smile crossed her silvergray eyes. “I have never known anyone else in such a position. It seems both indiscreet to ask one’s friends to defend one in such a matter, and unjust to attempt to malign the integrity of those who enforce the law, and have more than enough difficulty as it is.”
“A novel view,” Byam said thoughtfully, not exactly in criticism, but certainly not in agreement.
Valerius looked at her with new and sharpened regard. It was obvious in his face that quite suddenly she had assumed a different role; one to be taken seriously, even admired.
Carswell was still uncertain. He glanced at Byam, then at Vespasia, and ended by saying nothing.
“I hope, for the sake of the rest of us, that your view prevails,” Charlotte said clearly, looking at Vespasia. “If the police are blackened in public esteem any further, it will destroy confidence in them to a degree where their efficiency, perhaps even their existence, will be jeopardized.”
“I am sure your fears are unfounded, Mrs. Pitt,” Carswell said stiffly. “I beg you, do not disturb yourself.”
And from there the conversation became more general. The sweet course was served, and then the ices.
Finally after the fruit—pineapples, cherries, apricots and melons—the ladies excused themselves and retired to the withdrawing room to sit and discuss polite trivialities and exchange purely frivolous gossip. The men remained around the table to pass the port and smoke, and speak of the subjects that were too contentious or intellectual to be aired while the ladies were present.
When the gentlemen rejoined them again Charlotte found herself listening to Peter Valerius. They had begun to speak of usury, with Carswell still in their company. Charlotte had hoped it might produce some emotional response which she could judge, but Carswell