Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [144]
“No thank you.” Drummond felt awkward about accepting the hospitality of a man from whom he had come determined to demand some further explanation of his deepest trouble and the tragedy and fears arising from it.
“Very good, sir.” The footman withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Drummond was too tense to sit. Over and over he had prepared in his mind what he would say, but still it was unsatisfactory. One moment it seemed too deferential, not direct enough, the next too shrill, as if he himself were frightened and unsure.
He was still wrestling with it and growing more and more torn with doubts, when five minutes later the door opened almost silently and Eleanor came in. She was dressed in soft blue-gray, the exact color of her eyes. The neckline plunged deeply and was filled with lace of a softer shade, and she wore two ropes of pearls almost to her waist. For the first instant he could only think how lovely she was. Standing in the doorway, her face a little flushed, one hand still on the knob, she was warm, elegant, graceful, everything that a man loved in a woman, everything that was gentle and strong, vulnerable and tender.
Then he realized it was a very formal gown, and he was terrified she was preparing to dine out, or to receive guests. This would mean when Byam arrived he would be in a hurry, and have no time for an extended interview, however pressing Drummond felt the matter. Eleanor must have come to explain this to him, and suggest he call another day.
“Mr. Drummond,” she said urgently, closing the door behind her. “Sholto will not be here for at least half an hour. May I speak with you?” She was obviously agitated and in some distress. Her color was high and her eyes held his with an intensity that disturbed him profoundly.
“Of course.”
She came towards him until they were both standing in the center of the floor, but she too seemed unable to sit.
“Has something—” she began, then stopped. She looked at him very directly. “Has something new happened in the case? Is that why you have come?”
For a wild moment he thought she was going to ask if he had come to arrest Byam. Had the thought entered her mind that Byam might be guilty? Or was it simply fear, and no confidence in justice?
“Nothing decisive,” he answered. “And—nothing to implicate Lord Byam.”
“Mr. Drummond—” She breathed in deeply. He could see the light on her pearls as her breast rose and fell. “Mr. Drummond, are you telling me the truth, or trying to shield me from a pain which I will eventually have to know?”
“I am telling you the truth,” he said steadily. “I have come because I need to know more, not because I already know it.”
She made as if to press him further, then changed her mind and moved away towards the mantelpiece, her back to him. There was no fire in the grate, the evening was too warm, but she stood next to it as if there were.
“You have come very opportunely,” she said in a small voice, looking down at the brass fire tongs with their finely wrought handles. “There are things I—I need to tell you.”
He waited. He longed to be able to help her, but there was nothing he could have done, even had propriety allowed.
She stayed motionless, still staring at the tongs.
“I have learned what the quarrel was which I overheard,” she went on. Her face was sad and frightened. “I discovered by accident—at the dinner table—from a young man named Valerius. In the office he holds in the Treasury Sholto has to do with foreign loans to certain countries in the empire. He has the authority to permit them or refuse. He has always been very committed to giving whatever assistance is possible. In one instance he has quite suddenly and unaccountably reversed years of policy—” She stopped and at last looked up at him, her eyes darkly troubled.
Emotions raged through him, fury at his impotence to help her. He was bound by inability, convention, his own shyness and uncertainty. He loved her, that should be admitted; it was ridiculous to go on calling it by any