Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [3]
The door was opened by the usual supercilious kind of footman in such an area. He saw Drummond and made an instant judgment, as was part of his trade. Then he saw Pitt behind him and changed his mind. His deferential half bow vanished.
“Yes sir?” he inquired dubiously.
“Micah Drummond,” Drummond said with dignity. “Lord Byam is expecting me.”
“And the other … gentleman?” The footman barely raised his eyebrows but his expression was an exquisite mixture of pained civility and distaste.
“You have it precisely,” Drummond said with a chill. “He is a gentleman who is with me. That will satisfy Lord Byam, I assure you. Please inform him of our presence.”
The footman was put in his place. “Yes sir.” He retreated before further discomfort and invited them in. The entrance hall was large and surprisingly old-fashioned in its decoration, harking back to the simplicity of the late Georgian period, quite unlike the cluttered and rather ponderous fashion of the present time. The walls were dark but very simple and the woodwork was all white. The mahogany table was of Adam design, clean legged and finely polished, and a large bowl of summer roses shone with a blaze of color, reflected in the rich wood in reds and golds. Pitt’s opinion of Lord Byam rose immediately—or perhaps of Lady Byam?
They were shown into the morning room and left there while the footman informed his master of their arrival. He returned within moments to conduct them to the library, where Lord and Lady Byam were standing in the bright sun streaming through the window. He was in the center of the room; slender, a little more than average height, dark hair graying at the temples and a sensitive, almost dreaming face lit by the most magnificent dark eyes. Only on second glance did one see an underlying determination, a weight in the jaw and a thickening of the flesh. Now he was obviously troubled, his fine hands moved nervously and the muscles of his neck were tight.
Lady Byam, standing to his right, was equally dark, and almost as tall, but the balance of her features was entirely different, less mercurial, reflective; untried as to strength or passion, or perhaps merely concealed.
“Ah, Drummond!” Byam’s face relaxed and some of the tension slipped out of him as if the mere sight of Micah Drummond had brought him relief. Then his eyes moved to Pitt and the question was implicit.
“Good afternoon, my lord, Lady Byam.” Drummond insisted on the courtesies first. It was probably a habit so deeply ingrained he did it without thinking. “I have brought Inspector Pitt with me to save having to explain the situation twice, and it is better he should hear it from you, and ask what he needs, than have to do it indirectly later on. He is the best man I know for a delicate investigation.”
Byam regarded Pitt dubiously. Pitt looked back at him with interest. Perhaps the situation and Drummond’s nervousness inclined him to prejudice, but the man in front of him was not what he had expected. There was acute intelligence in his face, and imagination and subtlety, and he thought perhaps considerable capacity for humor.
And on the other hand, Drummond refused to explain Pitt, or recommend him further, as if he were a commodity he was selling. He had said enough, and Byam could accept him on that, or look elsewhere for help.
Byam appreciated it without further words. “Then I am obliged to you for coming.” He turned to Lady Byam. “Eleanor, my dear, there is no need for you to be harrowed by having to listen yet again. But I am sensible of your kindness in remaining with me until Drummond should arrive.”
Eleanor smiled graciously and accepted her dismissal. Perhaps indeed she had already heard the story and would find it distressing to hear it again.
Drummond bowed very slightly and she inclined her head in