Death in the Devil's Acre - Anne Perry [52]
She met his gaze and suddenly felt a great deal less sure of herself. “Oh, yes, of course,” she said. After all, she was not really investigating! It was only a matter of keeping her ears open for any odd piece of information that might prove relevant. “But it is only natural I should be interested, isn’t it?” she said reasonably.
Charlotte was something less than honest over the dinner invitation to the Rosses’ on Tuesday. Pitt was working, as she had trusted he would be. She mentioned that they had been invited to dine with Emily and George, and would he mind very much if she went, even though he was unable to? She knew he would not refuse her. After all, he had not been able to take her anywhere himself, or even to offer her much companionship, since the case began. And so far as it went, what she said was true; she would be with Emily and George! Even if it was not in their home, as she allowed Pitt to presume.
Emily lent her a gown, as usual, and Charlotte dressed for the occasion at Paragon Walk, with Emily’s maid to dress her hair. She felt not the least qualm about that, for the whole idea had been engineered by Emily’s connivance, with Alan Ross!
The gown was of apricot silk, with the most delicate lace a shade or two deeper, and appeared to be quite new. In fact, it crossed her mind to wonder if Emily had obtained it for the purpose. It was a color Emily herself should never have worn, with her fair hair and clear blue eyes. The shade was ideal for a warmer complexion and darker, heavier hair with gleams of red in it.
She felt a sudden gratitude for Emily’s generosity, both in providing the gown, which flattered her so much, and for doing it in such a discreet manner. She decided to say nothing, and thus let the gift reach the fullest measure. Instead she swept down the stairs from the spare dressing room like a duchess entering her own ballroom, and swirled to a grand curtsy in the hallway at Emily’s feet. The sense of excitement inside her was as vivid as the light on the chandeliers.
“Your dress is perfect,” she said, rising with a little less grace than she had intended. “I feel fit to dazzle everyone and make Christina quite sickly with envy! Thank you very much.”
Emily was in the palest aquamarine, with diamonds at her ears and throat sparkling like sunlight upon clear water. They were as different as could be, which of course had been the intention—although possibly Emily had not expected Charlotte to look quite so splendid. But if she hadn’t, she rapidly adjusted her thought, and smiled back with unclouded approval.
“Now, just remember not to say anything too candid,” she warned. “Society adores mirrors to its face and its attire, but has no love whatsoever for a reflection of its morals or its soul. I shall be obliged if you bear that in mind before you express your opinions!”
“Yes, Emily.” She did owe her something for the dress.
Emily had obviously taken some care in forewarning George of the purpose of their visit. He had agreed to accompany them, and to refrain from enlightening their hosts about Charlotte’s marriage and thus her current social status, although Charlotte did not know if Emily had also told him the reason for this!
Christina Ross received them distinctly coolly. Obviously the invitation had come from her husband, and she had been obliged to go along with it, since it could hardly be withdrawn. “How kind of you to come, Lord Ashworth, Lady Ashworth,” she said, with a very small smile.
George bowed and passed some civil remark, vaguely complimentary.
“And Miss Ellison.” Christina’s eyes swept over Charlotte