Breaths of Suspicion by Roy Lewis Read Free Book Online

was just about to get marriedanyway, and though the scandal was hushed up, the Queen had sternly demanded the dismissal from Government of the corridor-wandering Viscount. The Government of the day resisted it and the incident didn’t seem to have damaged his political career much. Or his inclinations towards late-night peregrinations.
    However, here they were some years later, Lady Dacre and old Pam, seated side by side and largely ignoring each other. Their studied indifference to each other could have been due to that unfortunate incident at Windsor, but I began to consider a different theory in my head. I was interested in watching them. The coolness they demonstrated to each other seemed odd, and somewhat suspicious to my trained eye. But my attention was distracted for a while, when Marianne broke away from a conversation with her other neighbour, Lord Esher, and lightly touched my arm to attract my attention.
    ‘Mr James, have you heard the news about Lester Grenwood?’
    I had not. Since my former friend had fled to the continent after the
Running Rein
affair, to avoid creditors and perhaps a charge of murder I had lost interest in his affairs. He still owed me money, of course, but the days were long since past when I would have hoped that he would honour his debts. I had removed him from my mind, not least because unpleasant memories clung to that whole business: a drowned woman, a disinterred horse, and a man crushed to death on the dockside.…
    Marianne frowned prettily. She had mastered certain feminine skills since last I had seen her. Now she teased at the lace on her bosom, showed me a little more of the valley between her breasts, turned her large violet eyes on me, held my glance. ‘You are aware that I never held Grenwood in high regard. And much disapproved of his friendship with my husband Crosier.’
    She had once made her feelings clear to me, before she and Crosier Hilliard had married. I nodded, covertly eyeing the shadowed valley. ‘Grenwood, last I heard of him, was in Belgium.’
    ‘Alas,’ she sighed theatrically, and unfeelingly, ‘he is no longer of this world.’
    I grimaced, forgetting the heaving bosom. Grenwood’s death meant any tiny hope I had retained of getting my money back had evaporated.
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘It was in Bruges. He fell in the canal. Drowned.’
    I was silent for a little while. The irony of his death did not escape me: I still remembered the image of his pregnant mistress being dragged from the Thames by Inspector Redwood. She had committed suicide. Drowned. And now Grenwood had suffered the same fate. I wondered which would have been the dirtier end: the choking black sludge of the Thames, or the clogging muck of a dark canal in Bruges.
    ‘He would have been inebriated, of course,’ she said in a muttered tone. ‘Why is it that men will so degrade themselves?’
    I stared at her. Her eyes met mine. There was a strange glitter in their depths. I had the sudden feeling that she was not speaking of the deceased Lester Grenwood.
    We said little more as Lord Esher once again claimed her attention . Across the table, Viscount Palmerston continued to ignore Lady Dacre. She did not seem concerned, though during the course of the dinner there were occasions when her eyes flickered in consternation about the table, and her colour seemed to heighten. There was also the occasional inadvertent twitch of her mouth, a parting of the lips, and from time to time she gave a little jump as though she had been pinched. I noted that these tended to coincide with the occasions when I was unable to see Palmerston’s left hand, which from time to time dropped beneath the table while he conversed with the lady on his right.
    ‘So your husband is not able to attend this evening?’ I inquired of Marianne, eventually, dragging my attention from the curious events at the other side of the table.
    ‘We were to meet here,’ she replied, a little tartly. ‘Then I received a note