Betrayal at Lisson Grove - Anne Perry [84]
‘It sounds marvellous,’ she said with as much enthusiasm as she could manage, taking his arm and walking towards the front door. She did not look back to see if Narraway were watching her. ‘Are they far from the city?’
‘A little distance, but it’s well worth it,’ McDaid replied. ‘There’s far more to Ireland than Dublin, you know.’
‘Of course. I appreciate your generosity in sharing it. Do tell me more about these places.’
He accepted, and on the short journey to the hall where the recital was to take place, she listened with an air of complete attention. Indeed, at any other time she would have been as interested as she now pretended to be. The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and the love for his people and their history. He had a remarkable compassion for the poor and the dispossessed that she could not help but admire.
When they arrived, the crowds were already beginning to gather and they were obliged to take their seats if they wished to be well placed towards the front. Charlotte was pleased to do so, in order to be as far from Narraway as possible, so no one might think they were with each other – except McDaid, of course, and she had to trust in his discretion.
The other ladies were dressed very fashionably, but in the bronze and black striped blouse Charlotte felt the equal of any of them. It still gave her a twinge of guilt that Narraway had paid for it, and she had no idea what words she would use to explain it to Pitt. But for the moment she indulged the pleasure of seeing both men and women glance at her, then look a second time with appreciation, or envy. She smiled a little, not too much, in case it looked like selfsatisfaction, just enough to lift the corners of her mouth into a pleasant expression, and return the nods of greeting from those she had met before.
She chose a chair, then sat as straight-backed as she could and affected an interest in the arrangements of the seats where the musicians were to play.
She noticed Dolina Pearse and only just avoided meeting her eyes. Next to her, Talulla Lawless was very discreetly gazing around the room, apparently looking for someone. Charlotte tried to follow her direction, and felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw Narraway arrive. The light was bright for a moment on the silver at his temples as he leaned forward to listen to someone. Talulla stiffened, her face set rigid. Then she smiled and turned back to the man beside her. It was a moment before Charlotte recognised him as Phelim O’Conor. Then he moved away and took his seat, and Talulla went to hers.
The master of ceremonies appeared, and the babble of talk died away. The performance had begun.
For just over an hour the audience sat absorbed in the sound and the emotion of the music. It had a sweetness and a lilt that made Charlotte smile, and it was no effort at all to appear as if she were totally happy.
However, the moment it ceased and the applause was finished, her mind returned to the reason she was here – and, more urgently, why Narraway was. She remembered the look in Talulla’s face. Perhaps the greatest purpose Charlotte would serve would not be anything to do with Cormac O’Neil, but to support Narraway if Talulla should begin to create a scene.
Giving McDaid no more than a quick smile, she rose to her feet and headed for Talulla, trying to think of something reasonable to say, true or not. She reached her just as Talulla turned to walk away, and only just managed to save her balance. She looked instantly amazed.
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ Charlotte apologised, although