Death of a Stranger - Anne Perry [95]
“I do,” she agreed. “The matter does not allow for misunderstandings. I apologize if it offends you.” She knew it did not. “I am afraid nursing has blunted the edges of my good manners.” Suddenly she smiled at him fully. “That is a euphemism. I never had any.”
“Then I shall follow your example, Mrs. Monk,” he replied with a very slight bending of his head, almost like a bow, his eyes dancing. “Nolan Baltimore was a man with great ambitions who took extraordinary chances in order to achieve them. He had courage and imagination, both of which were admired.” He was watching her as he spoke, weighing what she made of his remarks.
“And . . .” she prompted him.
He acknowledged her understanding. “And some of his risks paid fairly well; others did not. He managed to survive rather better than some of his friends. He was not noted for his loyalty.”
“In general?” Hester asked. “Or in particular?”
“I had no dealings with him myself.”
She knew his tact was for Courtney, not for her. He expected her to understand his omissions as much as his words.
“From choice?” she said quickly.
“Yes.” He smiled at her.
“Could any of his . . . chances . . . have taken him to Leather Lane?” she asked.
“Dubious finance?” His eyes widened. “It is not impossible. If one needs money and the usual services are not available, one goes elsewhere. A short-term loan that was to be paid off when an investment produced a high profit could be found in such a place. There is plenty of money in vice of one sort or another. People who come by it that way are often keen to invest it in a legitimate business.”
“Really . . . Boyd!” Courtney growled. “I don’t think this is the sort of thing to discuss in front of ladies!”
“If Mrs. Monk has been an army nurse, and now works in the Coldbath area, James, I doubt I can tell her anything that she does not already know better than I,” Boyd pointed out with more humor than annoyance.
“I was thinking of my sister-in-law!” Courtney said a trifle waspishly, his eye flickering to Marielle and back again, as if in actuality responding to her rather than his own thoughts. “And my wife,” he added, perhaps unaware of the implied insult to Hester.
Boyd looked at him coldly for a moment, and noticed him color, then he turned to Margaret. “I apologize if I have distressed you, Miss Ballinger,” he said with a slight smile, but a question in his eye.
“I shall require an apology, Mr. Boyd, if you think me less able to face the truth than Mrs. Monk!” Margaret replied with heat. “You have answered us very frankly, and for that I am grateful. Please do not spoil your respect for our sincerity by equivocating now.”
Boyd ignored both Courtney and Marielle as if they had not been present.
“Then I must tell you, Miss Ballinger,” he replied, “that I think Nolan Baltimore was as likely to have gone to Leather Lane for the reasons generally supposed as for any business purpose, honorable or otherwise. The quality of his living, the cost of his clothes, his carriages, his food and wine, did not suggest a company with any need to seek finance.” He waved Courtney’s proposed interruption away impatiently, and without taking his eyes from Margaret’s, he continued. “Since I have seen him in the City he has never restricted himself. Rumor has it that his company is on the verge of a great achievement. Perhaps he has borrowed against his expectations, or else he had a backer with very deep pockets. But before you ask me who it might be, I have no idea whatever. Not even an educated guess. I am sorry.”
An extraordinary thought occurred to Hester, only a flutter of darkness to begin with, but less and less absurd as the seconds ticked by. “Please don’t apologize, Mr. Boyd,” she said with sincerity. “You have been most helpful.” She ignored Margaret’s look of surprise, and Marielle’s clear disapproval.
Boyd smiled at her, curiosity and