Callander Square - Anne Perry [63]
“I apologize for having kept you waiting,” he said hastily. “I hope you were not—anxious—?”
She smiled, hoping to put him at ease. “Not at all, thank you. I assumed you must have another call upon your attention, and I continued with the letters.”
“Police,” he sat down.
She felt a hypocrite, knowing that it would have been Pitt, and Balantyne had no knowledge that she was his wife. She was here precisely to observe those things they would not willingly have told the police, and yet she now dreaded it. She liked Balantyne, and would have chosen to retain his regard.
“I suppose they have to pursue it,” she said softly. “It cannot be ignored.”
“Better if it could,” he said, staring ahead of him. “Lot of grief to everyone. But of course you are quite correct, the truth must be uncovered, regardless of the consequences. Trouble is—one discovers so much else. Still,” he straightened his shoulders, “we must work. I would be obliged if you would put these in chronological order as well as you can. I’m afraid they are not all dated. Perhaps your history—?” he left it hanging, not wishing to be derogatory about her knowledge.
“Oh, there is an excellent book in that case about Marlborough’s campaigns,” she replied. “I asked you if I might borrow it two days ago, and you were kind enough to allow me to.”
“Oh,” he looked taken aback, and she realized that something had indeed upset him more deeply than she had at first understood. “Oh,” he repeated foolishly. “I forgot. Of course, you will know—”
She smiled at him.
“If you have other business to take care of, I can quite well work on these by myself,” she offered. “You do not need to supervise me, if it is inconvenient.”
“You are very considerate, but I have nothing else that I—at least not now. Thank you,” and with a faint color in his face he bent to his papers.
Once or twice he spoke to her again, but his remarks were inconsequential, and she let them pass without question, knowing his mind was preoccupied. Had he newly discovered something about Christina? That she feared she was with child? Or something deeper, worse? Compassion forbade her from making any attempt to discover. She would like to have said or done something to comfort him, indeed her instinct was strong to touch him, reduce some of the stiffness out of his body, suffer him to relax. He would be stronger for having given in to himself for a few moments. But of course it would be totally improper. It would produce not the comfort of one creature for another, but embarrassment, misunderstanding, even fear. There were years of icebound convention between them. Instead she affected not to have noticed anything unusual. She could afford him at least privacy, which was second best, but gentler than nothing, and no doubt what he believed he wished for.
It was not long before midday when Max came in to say that Garson Campbell was in the morning room and wished to see General Balantyne, and could he show him in.
“What?”
Max repeated the request. Looking at him, Charlotte found him one of the most offensive men she had seen. There was a curve to his mouth, a wetness that she found repellent, as if he were forever licking his lips, although in truth she had never seen him do so.
“Oh, yes,” Balantyne acquiesced. “Send him in. I won’t come out, or he’ll think I’ve all day to waste.”
Garson Campbell came in a moment later. It was the first time Charlotte had seen him, and she kept perfectly still in the corner, the book on Marlborough held up to her face, hoping that they might not notice her. She peered over the top of it cautiously to look.
Campbell had a clever face, long nose, hard, humorous mouth, and quick eyes. He stamped his feet slightly, perhaps from the cold.
“Morning, Balantyne.” He appeared not to have seen Charlotte, and she remained motionless, trusting that the general would have forgotten her also.
“Morning, Campbell.”
“Still resurrecting past victories? Well, I suppose they’re better than present apathy: so long as we