Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [132]
Love. That was the word he had avoided saying even to himself.
He turned away from the room and walked past the great swathed curtain and out onto the balcony. He needed not only to be alone, but to be unseen by others. His face might too easily reveal him, and he could not force himself into communication now.
He did not know how long he stood staring into the soft radiance of the night, glimmering from the reflected lamps like a row of suspended moons along the street, tree branches gleaming where the rays caught them, leaves dancing and turning in the breeze.
At last he was interrupted by a voice, tentative and apologetic, but carrying an urgency that even embarrassment and the knowledge of intrusion would not curb.
“Mr. Drummond—”
He knew it instantly. It was Eleanor Byam. It was as if his thoughts had conjured her there, and he felt guilty for her presence, as if somehow she knew what was in his mind, and worse, his heart. He turned slowly to face her, trying to compose himself and his racing pulse.
“Yes—Lady Byam?”
“I’m—I’m sorry for disturbing you, when you seem to wish to be alone …” she began. It appeared she was finding it every bit as difficult as he.
“I merely wished for a little air,” he lied, trying to ease her embarrassment.
“You are very generous.” Her voice was lower and there was a touch of warmth in it now which caught his emotions like touching a fine cut on the skin. “Please do not be polite with me,” she went on urgently. “It is a time when I must be honest with you, regardless of how painful it might be.”
He was about to interrupt, but she did not allow him time.
“Something further has happened which disturbs me more than I know how to describe …” He longed to say something, even more to do something to comfort her. His instinct was to touch her, and it would have been unforgivable.
She plunged on through his desperate silence.
“Sir John Seaforth, a long-standing friend and colleague of Sholto’s, came to visit yesterday evening. I merely saw him arrive and he looked angry but well in command of himself, and hopeful, as if he believed Sholto could make right whatever it was that so upset him.” She seemed uncertain how to express herself. Drummond was acutely aware of her so close to him he could smell the faint perfume of geraniums and hear the whisper of taffeta as she breathed in and out.
“You saw him arrive?” he asked pointlessly.
She took it as a request for some explanation.
“Yes—Sholto was upstairs at the time, and I have known Sir John for many years myself. He was shown to the withdrawing room while the footman was sent to inform Sholto of his arrival. He spoke only a few words to me. He was quite clearly not in a mood to exchange small talk, and I was sensible of that. As soon as the footman returned to say Sholto would receive him in the library, he went to that room.”
“Did Lord Byam tell you why he called?”
“No—he would not discuss it. I know it was very heated, because I crossed the hall some twenty minutes later to go upstairs, and I heard their voices from the library. I could catch only the occasional word, and the tone was so unpleasant I was embarrassed that one of them might open the door and see me. I did not wish either of them to know I had overheard what was obviously a most violent quarrel. I caught the words deceit and betrayal used by Sir John …” Her voice shook a little and she swallowed several times before she continued. “I did not hear Sholto reply, but from the raised voices immediately afterwards, Sir John was not in any way appeased.”
“You said he was a colleague.” Drummond sought for something to say that might allay her fears, and found nothing. Now only the truth would be any use, and the more he heard, the less did that promise any comfort. “In the Treasury?”
“No—no, he is a member