The Silent Cry - Anne Perry [96]
Arthur turned around. “Oh, Duke, this is Miss Latterly, who is looking after Rhys.”
“Good,” Duke said abruptly. “We’ll carry the book up for you.” He held out his hand for it. It was rather more a demand than an offer.
Hester felt an instant dislike for him. If these were indeed the young men Monk was looking for, then he was responsible not only for the brutal attacks on the women but for the ruin of his brother and of Rhys.
“Thank you, Mr. Kynaston,” she replied coldly, making an immediate change of mind. “It is not for Rhys; I intend reading it myself.”
He looked at it. “It is a history of the Ottoman Empire,” he said with a slight smile.
“A most interesting people,” she observed. “Last time I was in Istanbul I found much of great beauty. I should like to know more about it. They were a generous people in many respects, with a culture of great subtlety and complexity.” It was also cruel beyond her understanding, but that was irrelevant just now.
Duke looked taken aback. It was not the reply he had expected, but he regained his composure rapidly.
“Is there much call for domestic servants in Istanbul? I would have thought most people would have employed natives, especially for fetching and carrying.”
“I imagine they do.” She answered him without looking at Arthur. “I was too busy to think of such things. I left my own lady’s maid in London. I did not think it was any place for her, and it was quite unfair to ask her to go.” She smiled back at him. “I have always believed consideration for one’s servants is the mark of the gentleman … or lady, as the case may be. Don’t you agree?”
“You had a lady’s maid?” he said incredulously. “Whatever for?”
“If you ask your mother, Mr. Kynaston, I am sure she will acquaint you with the duties of a lady’s maid,” she answered, tucking the book under her arm. “They are many and varied, and I am sure you do not wish to keep Mr. Duff waiting.” And before he could find a reply to that, she smiled charmingly at Arthur and went up the stairs ahead of them, her temper still seething.
An hour later there was a knock on her door, and when she opened it, Arthur Kynaston was standing on the threshold.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “He can be awfully rude. There’s no excuse for him. May I come in and speak with you?”
“Of course.” She could not have refused him anyway, and Monk was right, she would search for the truth, however much against her will, hoping with every step that it would prove Rhys innocent, but compelled to know it anyway. “Please come in.”
“Thank you.” He glanced around in curiosity, then blushed. “I wanted to ask you if Rhys really is getting better, and if …” His brows furrowed and his eyes darkened. “If he’s going to speak again. Is he, Miss Latterly?”
Instantly she wondered if it was fear she saw in him. What was it Rhys would say if he could speak? Was that why Duke Kynaston was there, to see if Rhys was any danger to him … and perhaps to ensure that he was not? Should she leave them alone with him? He could not even cry out. He was utterly at their mercy.
No, that was a hideous thought. And nonsense. If anything happened to him while they were there, they would certainly be blamed for it. There was no way they could explain or escape. They must know that as surely as she did. Was Duke alone with him now? Instinctively she turned towards the connecting door.
“What is it?” Arthur asked quickly.
“Oh.” She turned back to him, forcing herself to smile. Was she virtually alone with a young man who had raped and beaten a dozen or more women, and were there two more only the thickness of the door away? She should be frightened, not for them but of them … for herself. She collected her wits. “I wish I could give you more hope, Mr. Kynaston …” She must protect Rhys. “But there is no sign at all. I am so sorry.”
He looked stricken, as if she had destroyed a hope in him.
“What happened to him?” he said,