Cain His Brother - Anne Perry [54]
“No, I am not a client,” Hester said more sharply than she would have wished the moment she heard her own voice. “I called to give Mr. Monk some information I thought might be of assistance.”
“How kind of you, Miss …?”
“Latterly,” Hester supplied.
“Drusilla Wyndham.” The woman introduced herself before Monk had the opportunity. “How do you do.”
Hester stared at her. She seemed very composed and her attitude made it apparent that in spite of the fact that this was Monk’s office, her call was social. Monk had never mentioned her before, but there was no question that he knew her, and every evidence he also liked her. It was there in his expression. The way he stood with his shoulders straight, the very slight smile on his lips, unlike the hard-eyed look of the moment before she came.
Perhaps he had known her in the past? She seemed extraordinarily comfortable with him. Hester felt a sudden, awful sinking in her stomach, as if there were nothing inside her. Of course, he must have known women in the past, probably loved them. For heaven’s sake. It was not impossible he had been married! Could a man forget such a thing? If he had really loved …?
But would Monk really love anybody? Had he that capacity in him to love utterly and totally, sharing all of himself?
Yes. For a few moments in that closed room in Edinburgh he had. It was precious, like a brilliant star inside her memory. And yet it hurt, because she could not forget or dismiss it. She could never think of him as she had before that, never completely believe the anger or the coldness, and never tell herself with any honesty that there was nothing in him she really wanted.
Drusilla Wyndham stopped talking to Monk, and had swung around to look at Hester again, her lovely eyes wide and inquiring.
“Would you care for me to wait somewhere else while you conclude your business, Miss Latterly?” she asked politely. “I do not wish to intrude, or to hold you from what else you plan for this evening. I am sure you must have friends to call upon, or family awaiting you.” It was a remark, not a question. It was also a very plain dismissal.
Hester felt her neck and shoulders tighten in anger and a bitter resentment. How dare this woman take charge like this, as if in some way she owned Monk? Hester knew him far better than she ever could. She had shared desperate battles with him, hope and courage, pity and fear, victory and defeat. They had stood beside each other when both honor and life were threatened. Drusilla Wyndham knew nothing of that!
But she might know all manner of other things. Perhaps she could even tell Monk his lost past? And if Hester loved him—no, that was absurd! If she was a true friend, an honorable person, she could not wish to deny him that.
“Of course,” she said coldly. “But there is no need to retire, Miss Wyndham. All that is confidential has already been said.” She must let her know that there were confidential things. “I wish you a pleasant evening.” She turned to Monk and saw amusement in his face, which infuriated her and sent the color burning up her cheeks.
Drusilla smiled. Perhaps she too had read Hester more accurately than she wished. She felt horribly naked.
“Good night, Mr. Monk,” she said with a forced smile in return. “I hope you have more success in the future than you have found so far.” And she went to the door and opened it before he could get there and do it for her. She stepped out into the cold street, and left him to close the door after her.
As soon as Hester had gone, Drusilla turned to Monk.
“I do hope my calling was not inopportune? I did not mean to embarrass her. The poor creature looked quite disconcerted. She said it was not a personal matter, but was she simply being polite?” Her words were concerned, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that looked close to laughter, and a glow in her face.
“Not at all,” Monk said firmly, although he knew Hester had been upset. It was quite extraordinary. He would never have suspected her of being vulnerable