Belgrave Square - Anne Perry [44]
She looked down at the carpet and the patterns of sunlight creeping slowly across the floor.
“I have always admired Lord Anstiss for holding no grudge against Sholto.” Her voice was very quiet and low. “It would have been so easy to descend into bitterness and blame, and no one could have held him unjust for it or failed to understand. And yet after the first shock and bewilderment, it seems he never did. He allowed his grief to be untainted by hatred. I suppose he knew how dreadfully Sholto felt, and that he would have gone to any lengths to have undone his thoughtlessness.” She sighed. “But of course it was too late when he realized how violently she felt.” She bit her lip and looked up at him. “It seems Laura had never been refused anything before. No man had failed to fall under her spell, and it seemed to her as if all her power was stripped from her. She was confused and terribly hurt. Suddenly she doubted everything.”
She stopped for a moment, but he said nothing.
“It must be strange to be so lovely no one can help gazing at you,” she went on, as much to herself as to him. “I had never thought before what a doubtful blessing it is. Perhaps everyone is so spellbound by your face they fail to see the person behind it, and realize you have dreams and fears just like everyone, and that you can be every bit as lonely, as unsure of yourself, of your worth or of anyone else’s love for you.” Her voice sank even lower. “Poor Laura.”
“And poor Lord Anstiss.” Drummond meant it profoundly. “He must be a man of very great spirit to have overcome anger and bitterness and kept his friendship for Lord Byam intact. It is a quality I admire above almost any other, such a generosity of spirit, and an ability to forgive.”
“I too,” she agreed quickly, lifting her eyes again and staring at him with intense emotion. “It is beauty far greater than that of face or form, don’t you think? It is one of the qualities that brings a sweetness to everything it touches, in men or women. As long as there are such people, we can bear the men like Weems, and whichever poor soul was driven to shoot him.”
He was about to answer when he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall and low voices, then the door opened and Byam came in. At first he looked vigorous and in good heart, but when he crossed the bar of sunlight from the window Drummond could see the faint lines of tiredness around his eyes, and there was a tension in him, almost disguised but not quite. He showed no surprise at seeing Drummond; obviously the footman had forewarned him in the hallway.
Drummond rose to his feet.
“Good morning, my lord. I came to acquaint you with the progress we have made so far, and what we intend doing next.”
He nodded. “Morning, Drummond. Good of you. I appreciate it. Good morning, Eleanor, my dear.” He touched her shoulder lightly, a mere brush of the fingertips. The delicacy of the gesture, and the fact that he removed his hand, she took as a dismissal, subtle and gentle, but allowing her to know he wished to speak to Drummond alone. Possibly he believed the detail of the matter offensive to her, and unnecessary for her to hear.
She rose to her feet and with her back to her husband, but close to him, she faced Drummond.
“If you will excuse me, Mr. Drummond, I have domestic responsibilities to attend. We have guests to dine this evening, and I must go over the menu with Cook.”
“Of course.” He bowed very slightly. “I appreciate your generosity in remaining with me and giving me so much of your time.”
She smiled at him politely. It was a formal speech he had made, precisely what he would have said to anyone in the circumstances; she could not know how honestly he meant it.
“Good day, Mr. Drummond.”
“Good day, Lady Byam.”
And she turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Byam glanced at the empty tray, and refrained from offering any further refreshment. Drummond could see the anxiety in the tightness of his movements, the lack of ease and the way