Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [42]
Before he could answer, the footman returned with tea and the requested small savories. Eleanor thanked him absently and he withdrew. She invited Drummond to partake of the food, and poured tea for him and herself.
The savories were delicious, tiny delicate pastries, merely a mouthful, and small crisp fingers of toast spread with pâté or cheeses. The tea was hot and clean in the mouth. He sat opposite her, trying to balance himself and eat at the same time, feeling clumsy compared with her grace.
“It is difficult,” he said, taking up the conversation as if there had been no interruption. “And of course from time to time we make mistakes, and have to begin again. But Inspector Pitt is an excellent man and not easily confused.”
She smiled fully for the first time. “Such a curious man,” she said, looking down at the roses in their exquisite bowl. “At first I wondered who in heaven’s name you had brought.” She smiled apologetically. “His pockets must have been stuffed with papers, his jacket hung at such an odd angle, and I cannot believe he has seen a good barber in months. Then I looked at his face more closely. He has the clearest eyes I have ever seen. Have you noticed?”
Drummond was taken aback, unsure how to answer.
She smiled at herself.
“No, of course you haven’t,” she answered her own question. “It is not a thing a man would remark. I should feel ashamed if your Mr. Pitt caught me in an untruth. And I don’t find it hard to believe he would know. I hope he has a similar effect on other people he questions—” She stopped as she saw the doubt in his face. “You think I am fanciful? Perhaps. Or maybe I hope too much—”
“Oh no!” he said quickly, leaning forward without realizing it until he found he had nowhere to place the cup still in his hand. He put it down on the table self-consciously. “Pitt is extremely good at his job, I assure you. I would not have assigned him to this case did I not have fall confidence in him. He has solved some remarkably difficult murders in the past. And he is a man of both compassion and discretion. He will not seek his own fame, or to cause hurt by scandal.”
“He sounds a paragon,” she said quietly, looking not at Drummond but at her plate.
He was aware of having overpainted it.
“Not at all. He is perfectly human,” he said rather too quickly. “Frequently insubordinate, he detests being patronized and is the scruffiest man I know. But he is a man of both integrity and imagination, and he will find out who murdered Weems if anyone can.”
For the first time she looked directly at him with a candid smile full of warmth. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Yes I do,” he confessed. And it was a confession. A woman of Lady Byam’s social position would not expect a gentleman like Drummond to have personal feelings for a subordinate such as Pitt.
She said nothing in reply to that, but he had a sharp awareness that she was pleased, although he was uncertain as to why: whether it was simply that if Pitt was liked it made the whole unpleasantness a little more bearable, and she might also trust him not to be clumsy; or whether it had anything to do with her approval of him.
That was a rather ridiculous thought, and he dismissed it hastily. He drew in his breath to speak, but at the same moment she pushed the serving plate a fraction forward.
“Please take another savory, Mr. Drummond?” she offered. She seemed to search for something to say, and found it in a triviality, her voice losing the low-pitched melody it had had before. “I was at a ball the evening before last, given by Mr. and Mrs. Radley. She used to be Lady Ashworth, and has recently remarried. Her husband wishes to stand for Parliament and this was in the nature of introducing his campaign. But Mrs. Radley herself was unwell, and her sister, a Mrs. Pitt, was