“Good morning, Lady Augusta,” he said cheerfully. “I would be obliged if I could ask you a few questions.”
“Me?” She had intended to freeze him, but she was overtaken by surprise. “I know nothing about it, I assure you!”
He moved away from the fire to make room for her, and unreasonably the courtesy irritated her, perhaps because she would have preferred to find fault with him.
“I’m sure you are not aware of knowing anything,” he replied, “or you would have told me; but there may be things you have noticed, without at the time realizing their import.”
“I doubt it, but still I suppose, if you must-”
“Thank you. It is proving extremely difficult to trace the woman in the affair-”
“I’m hardly surprised!”
“No,” his mobile face fell into a wry expression, “nor I. We might have better success approaching it from another direction-to find the man.”
The thought flashed through her mind that there might be an opportunity to get rid of Max-
She looked up to find his brilliant gray eyes on her face, disconcertingly. She was conscious above all things of his intelligence; it was an unpleasant feeling to her, and quite new. She could not dominate him.
“You have thought of something?” There was a small smile on the corners of his lips.
“No,” she denied immediately. Then she decided to qualify it, in case an idea about Max came to her later. “I don’t believe so.”
“But you are a discerning woman-”
For a moment she was afraid he was going to flatter her.
“-and you have a young and attractive daughter.” There was no intent to deceive in his face, which in itself was unusual. Society was conducted on mutually agreed deceits. “You must have formed opinions as to the habits, the inclinations of the men in your circle,” he continued, “those who would be suitable for your daughter to associate with, and those who would not; above all, those whose morals were not acceptable to you.”
It was a statement she could not reasonably contradict. His conclusion was inescapable.
“Of course,” she agreed. “But I would hesitate to pass to the police as suspicions such personal dislikes or misgivings as I may entertain myself. They may be groundless, and I might thus unwittingly cause an injustice,” she raised her eyebrows slightly, questioning him in turn, giving him back the onus.
The smile on his mouth flickered upward. She wished he would not look at her so frankly. If Christina had become enamored of this man, she could have understood it a great deal more easily. But then he would very likely have sent her packing! She pulled herself together. The thought was ridiculous-and offensive.
“I will take your advice as merely that, my lady,” he said gently. “Sound advice as to where I might begin. You will agree that I have so far been extremely discreet?”
“I have no idea that you know anything about which to be indiscreet,” she said levelly, with a touch of chill.
His smile broadened into a grin.
“Which makes my point perfectly.”
“On the contrary,” she was terse. “It begs it.”
He retreated gracefully, again annoying her.
“I think you are right. Still, the sooner I can finish my investigations, the sooner the matter can either be resolved, or buried as insoluble.”
“I take your line of reasoning, Mr. Pitt. What is it that you wish to know from me?”
Before he could reply, the door opened and Brandy came in. Pitt had not seen him before, and she saw a momentary flash of interest cross his face.
“My son, Brandon Balantyne,” she said briefly.
Brandy seemed equally curious, to judge from his expression.
“Surely you don’t suspect Mother?” he said flippantly. “Or are you consulting her for gossip?”
“You think that would be a good idea?”
“Oh, excellent. She affects to be above it, but in truth she knows everything.”
“Brandon, this is not an occasion for levity,” she said tartly. “Two children are dead, and someone is responsible.”
His humor vanished instantly. He looked at Pitt with an unspoken apology.
“Gossip is most useful,” Pitt covered the moment and raised a hand to dismiss it. “You would be surprised how often the solution to a crime lies in some small thing that has been known to the neighborhood from the beginning, they have merely not mentioned it to us because they believed it such common knowledge that we must also have known it.”
Brandy relaxed. He made some small remark in reply, and before Pitt could return the conversation to his interrupted questions, Christina came in.
Augusta was annoyed; she knew it was only curiosity that brought her, and the fear that something was happening that she was missing. Being in bed had made her feel that the whole of society was passing her by. Now she was dressed meticulously, her eyes shining, she even had color on her cheeks, as if she were expecting a suitor! She was smiling at Pitt-practicing her technique! Really, had the girl no sense?
“Good morning, Inspector-Pitt?” she hesitated, affecting to be unsure of his name; then came forward, almost as though she were going to offer him her hand. Then she remembered he was a policeman, on a social equal with tradesmen or artisans, and let it fall. It was petty, a little arrogant; without the smile it would merely have been rude.
“Good morning, Miss Balantyne,” Pitt bowed very slightly. “I’m happy to see you so obviously recovered. You appear in most perfect health.”
“Thank you.”
“Perhaps you also can help me. There must be men of your acquaintance whose reputation is less than upright. I imagine you know very well whom you would trust, and whom you could not. Young women discuss among themselves such things, for mutual protection.” He turned without warning to Brandy. “Or you, Mr. Balantyne. Have any of your friends become involved with a girl not suitable to marry?”
“Good heavens, dozens, I should think,” Brandy was surprised into complete honesty. “But usually one has sense enough not to do it on one’s own doorstep!”
Pitt was obliged to smile.
“Quite,” he agreed. “What about your servants? That footman of yours looks a lusty fellow.” He swiveled till his probing eyes were on Christina.
Augusta could feel the blood drain from her own face, at the same time the rich color heightened in Christina’s. The stroke had come out of nowhere, and she had had no defenses ready. Augusta opened her mouth to intercept, and saw Pitt’s quick glance at her, wide, waiting; and she bit her tongue. Her very act of speech would betray her, its eagerness, where she should have been indifferent.
“He’s merely a footman,” Christina said coldly, but there was a small catch in her voice, as if it stuck in her throat. “I have never considered his private life. Perhaps you do not understand, if you have no resident servants of your own, but people of our station do not discuss things with servants. They are here to work, to run the house, that is all that one ever speaks to them about; and even so, usually through the butler. That is what butlers are for. You had better speak to the servants themselves. Those sorts of girls would be a little more in his line, don’t you think?”
“Oh, without doubt,” Pitt was unaffected by her arrogance. His face was perfectly smooth, his tone warm. “But perhaps not to his taste.”
“I have no idea what his tastes might be!” Christina snapped. “It is hardly a matter that interests me.”
Pitt grunted, apparently turning the consideration over in his mind. He was still looking at her, and she avoided his eyes.
“How long has he been in Callander Square?” he asked.