Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [71]
“I think I should return,” she said. “I have been gone rather a long time. I would rather do it before I need to give explanations.”
“Of course. I’ll follow in a few minutes. I’d like to look at this portrait a little longer.”
She moved away without looking at him again. He had not touched her again, and she felt alone, somehow incomplete because of it.
CAHOON FOLLOWED HER to her bedroom and closed the door hard behind him. He dismissed Bartle, who was waiting. “Your mistress will pull the bell if you’re wanted,” he said brusquely.
Bartle went out, head high, shoulders stiff.
Elsa stood facing him.
“You didn’t know about that, did you?” he demanded, a slight curl of amusement on his lip. “You thought this was the first time he’d done it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She played for time. She was afraid of his temper. He had struck her before, although never where anyone would see the marks. Always it had been because of her coldness, as he saw it, her lack of fire or passion, the ways in which she fell short of his wishes and her duty as his wife. Was it Minnie he was comparing her with, or Amelia Parr?
“Whoever killed the damn woman in the cupboard, Elsa!” he shouted. “For God’s sake, stop pretending! Haven’t you the courage to face the truth about anything at all?” His disgust was palpable. “You live in a world of insipid dreams, all the edges of passion or pain blunted. Well, you’re going to have to face reality now.” He moved closer to her, six inches taller than she, and massively more powerful. She could smell the cigar smoke and the brandy on his breath.
“I don’t know the truth,” she said with as much composure as she could muster, refusing to step backwards. “If you do, then you should tell the police.”
“I will, when I can prove it. Although I don’t know what that local clod of a policeman will do about it, unless the Prince tells him. Incompetent ass!”
“The Prince or the policeman?” she asked with an edge of sarcasm. She was tired of being complacent, whatever the cost. She despised herself for it, although she would have to pay later.
His eyes widened. “You think perhaps the Prince of Wales is an incompetent ass?” he said quietly.
“How on earth would I know?” she retorted. “He drinks too much and he seems to do whatever you advise him to. Do you admire that?” It was a challenge.
“He’s probably bored sick with his tedious wife,” he snapped back. “Only the poor devil can’t escape—ever. Unless she dies.”
She felt cold, as if suddenly she had walked into icy rain and been wet to the skin by it. He was staring at her, amused, enjoying it.
“So he has parties, and hires women from the street to come and entertain him,” she said without the force she had wanted because she was shivering. “Poor man. No wonder you are sorry for him. I am sorry for her. She must be so ashamed for him.”
He knew exactly what she meant, and the rage flared in his eyes. He swung his arm back, and then changed his mind. “I suppose you’d just run to Julius, and tell him I beat you! I wasn’t in Africa when that other woman was killed, Elsa. He was! Have you considered what he might do to women when he can get away with it? Not quite the dream you had, is it?”
“You have no idea what my dreams are, Cahoon. That’s one place you can’t reach. You never will.”
“Do you really imagine I want to?” His black eyebrows rose incredulously. “Insipid is a word that hardly does them justice. Like a blancmange, pale and tasteless. You bore me to death, Elsa.” He turned away, then, when he reached the door, swung around to face her again. “Julius may never win anything but toleration from Minnie, because the law doesn’t allow a woman to leave a man for adultery, if he ever raises the courage or the manhood to commit it—a fact you would do well to remember. You owe me everything you have: the food in your mouth, the clothes you stand up in, and your loyalty—at least in public. If you forget that, I will destroy you. Julius can’t save you, and