Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [138]
“Crystals,” Regina said with a slight giggle. “They are not diamonds, you know.”
“Of course,” Charlotte amended. “Crystals. Some muted color, a little darker, would have been best—” She was about to continue when out of the corner of her eye she noticed another woman looking at Regina with a softness that verged on pity, and as soon as she met Charlotte’s glance, she looked away quickly, her face pink, as though she had been caught staring at someone improperly dressed, an intrusive and embarrassing thing to do.
Charlotte lost her place in what she had been going to say.
“What is it?” Regina asked, quick to sense her discomfort, however momentary.
“Nothing,” Charlotte lied instantly, then, knowing the lie pointless, said, “I saw someone with whom I had a mildly unpleasant altercation. But I had forgotten.” She dismissed the second lie as of no matter. And then she rushed on with some other topic of total triviality, a piece of gossip she had picked up from Emily.
She returned to her seat again for the second long piece upon the piano, and enjoyed it rather less. It was a composer she was unfamiliar with, and the work seemed to lack emotion, or perhaps she was simply unable to concentrate. In the interval that followed she made her way to Emily, who had been talking to Fitz.
“You look concerned,” Emily said hastily. “Have you found something?”
“I don’t think so. What do you know of Horatio Osmar? Is he politically important?” Charlotte whispered back.
Emily’s face puckered. “I don’t think he matters in the slightest. Why?”
“People seem to be speaking of him.”
“What on earth do you mean, ‘seem to be’? Are they or not?”
“I don’t know. I have seen people giving Mrs. Carswell the oddest looks, and I wondered if it were to do with Horatio Osmar.”
“You are talking nonsense,” Emily said sharply. “What has Regina Carswell to do with Horatio Osmar?”
“It was Addison Carswell who threw out the case,” Charlotte said impatiently. “Thomas seems to think it was quite a corrupt thing to do. It was a perfectly good case.”
Emily frowned. “Who was looking at Regina Carswell oddly?”
“I don’t know—a fat woman with crystals all over her bosom.”
“Lady Arnforth—that’s absurd. She doesn’t know anything about justice, and cares still less. It must be gossip, probably about love or immorality—or both.”
“And Regina Carswell?” Charlotte said dubiously.
“I don’t know. Maybe you misunderstood?”
At that point they were rejoined by Fitz, who had stepped aside for a moment to pursue some courtesy with a man known to have considerable political influence. A few moments before the man had been deep in conversation with Jack. Fitz had been attempting to catch up. Now he looked rueful, as if aware he had not succeeded. Only half his attention was on Emily, the rest still dwelt with far more emotion on Fanny Hilliard a few yards away, her face flushed, her eyes bright, her lovely hair piled high and wound with a spray of silk flowers.
A tall young man with bright blue eyes and a receding chin came by gracefully, bowed to Emily and Charlotte with rather more flair than was called for by the occasion, and put his hand on Fitz’s shoulder.
“How are you, old fellow?” he said cheerfully. “Going to be our next member of Parliament, are you? Have to be civil to you, what?” He followed the line Fitz had been looking at the moment before, and saw Fanny Hilliard. “Pretty, eh?” he said with admiration. “None of that sort of thing for you, my lad. Not if you are to become a member of Her Majesty’s government, in time. Have to be very careful, don’t you know. Above suspicion, and all that, what.”
Fitz stiffened and a flicker of anger crossed his normally good-natured, almost indolent face.
“Be careful of your tongue, Ferdy. Miss Hilliard’s reputation is above question.”
Ferdy’s face reflected comic disbelief.
“Oh come on, old fellow! She looks quite the lady, I’ll grant you. Anyone would be taken in—but she’s old Carswell’s mistress,