Death in the Devil's Acre - Anne Perry [53]
Christina abandoned the inquiry without waiting for an answer, and indicated where they were welcome to seat themselves.
George did not believe that they should interfere in the solving of the crimes, and he had in fact barely known Bertie Astley. But he was generally good-natured, as long as he was not unduly criticized or robbed of his habitual pleasures. Emily had proved an excellent wife. She was neither extravagant nor indiscreet, she rarely lost her temper, she never sulked or rebuffed him, and she was far too subtle in her dealings with him to need to nag.
He was aware, in afterthought, of having changed one or two of his amusements—maybe even three or four—in order to please her. But it had proved less painful than he had anticipated, and one had to be prepared to make some adjustments. He therefore did not really object to humoring her with regard to cultivating Christina Ross, if she felt it was useful. Of course he knew quite well it was absolutely pointless, but if it entertained her, what matter? And he could see no reason why it should not be pleasant.
Charlotte he had never understood, nor had he tried to. He liked her well enough; in fact, to be honest, he even liked Pitt!
Accordingly, he put himself out to be charming to Christina and, without any great effort, was devastatingly effective. His face was handsome, especially his eyes, and generations of privilege and money had given him an assurance so easy it required no attention at all. He could sit and stare at Christina with appreciation, and flatter her merely by giving her his undivided concern.
There was little enough time, and Emily wasted none of it, but began immediately on the subject that had brought her. “It is so pleasant to see you again,” she said to Alan Ross, with a smile. “George was delighted when I gave him your invitation. We spend so much time with those in society who are not of the most attractive. I confess, I am not as clever at judging people as I had imagined I was. I have been somewhat naive, and have found myself in the company of persons I would not have chosen had I been wiser. But one so often learns these things too late. Even now I do not fully understand.” She dropped her voice as if imparting a confidence. “But I have heard whispers that some ladies of what one would have thought to be impeccable family have been behaving in ways too appalling to speak of!”
“Indeed?” A shadow crossed Alan Ross’s face, so brief Charlotte was not sure if she had imagined it, but it left her with an impression of pain. Had the unintended clumsiness of Emily’s remark disturbed some memory of the past? The murder in Callander Square?
“Emily,” she said quickly. “Perhaps it is a subject indelicate to discuss!”
Emily gave her a blue stare of amazement, then turned back quickly to Alan Ross. “I do hope I have not offended you by speaking my feelings too candidly?” She looked wounded, anxious, but underneath the wide swirls of her skirt she gave Charlotte a sharp kick. Charlotte winced, but was obliged to keep her face expressionless.
“Of course not!” Ross said with a slight movement of his hand, the smallest gesture of dismissal—it was too trivial to require more. “I quite agree with you. There is only one thing more boring and more unpleasant than debauchery, and that is to hear of it interminably and at second hand.” He smiled very slightly, and Charlotte could only guess at the thoughts that had prompted the remark.
“How I agree with you!” Emily’s foot gave Charlotte a warning tap—painful, since it caught exactly the spot where she had landed the first kick. “I find it most embarrassing when women speak of such things. I hardly know what to say.”
Charlotte moved her