Breaths of Suspicion by Roy Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

this evening. It seems he is forced to attend to certain military matters in his regiment.’
    If I knew Hilliard, they would be taking place in a
bordello
in Panton Street. I did not advise Marianne of my suspicions. She probably held similar suspicions of her own.
    The evening proceeded well enough. After dinner we moved into the ballroom, where there was some playing of cards and a little discreet music. Viscount Palmerston sat well apart from Lady Dacre, paying close attention to a much younger woman whose name I have now forgotten. And Lady Dacre seemed not in the slightest interested in conversing with him.
    Now, I’d always been of the view that if you wished to maintain secrecy in a liaison, it’s a mistake to completely ignore the lady in question even if you think you are being clever in doing so, to avoid suspicion. Particularly if the liaison is the subject of common gossip. I could see that Charles Greville was of the same opinion as me as he cast a worldly eye over the couple. But even Cupids as experienced as old Pam can get things wrong from time to time. The Viscount and the Lady were fooling no one. They would have been wiser to hold occasional conversations: turning their backs on each other only heightened my curiosity, and sharpened my amused suspicions, as well as those of Greville. Particularly after recalling the quickened breathing and the little jumps that had earlier occurred when the Viscount’s hand had wandered under the damasked table.
    As for myself I took the opportunity to move around the assembly and made sure that I engaged myself in conversation with those whose acquaintance with me was of a narrow nature, but who might be of assistance to me at some time in the future. But rather late in the evening I became aware that there was one person missing from the gathering.
    Marianne Hilliard.
    I found her on the terrace, beyond the open French windows. She was alone in the cool night air, staring out over the lawns that extended into the darkness. The light from the room fell on her bare shoulders, and the necklace at her throat glittered as I walked towards her.
    ‘Madam, are you well?’
    She turned her head slightly, and one hand rose to her throat, as though to caress the necklace, or perhaps to draw attention to the rise of her bosom. The scrap of lace seemed to have disappeared. ‘Mr James. I am quite well, thank you. But the heat in that room … I thought I would like a little air.’
    ‘Not without a gentleman in attendance,’ I replied gallantly.
    ‘I had a desire to be alone.’
    ‘Then I shall withdraw, if you wish.’
    She looked directly at me. Her gaze was fixed on mine. There was a certain deliberation in her eyes, which gave me pause. Her slim fingers teased at the necklace. ‘No, that would not be my desire, now that you are here.’
    I moved towards her, stood at her side, placed one hand on the stone balustrade in front of us. The silence extended; the moon was bright above us, the shadows ahead dark and deep. I felt that there was something in the air, a palpable tension, an uncertainty. And a thought came stealing to me: had Marianne Hilliard stepped out onto the terrace knowing that I would follow her?
    ‘You know my husband well, I believe, Mr James?’ she asked quietly after a little while.
    The question was unexpected. I was somewhat breathless with anticipation. ‘I have known him for some years … though not intimately ,’ I stammered.
    ‘And you knew his boon companion, the unfortunate Lester Grenwood.’ There was a bitterness in her tone. After a few moments she added, ‘Would it shock you if I were to tell you I do not grieve at Grenwood’s demise?’
    I was certainly surprised at her expressing the feeling, but I remained silent. The only personal regret I felt over Grenwood’s drowning in Bruges was that he had died still owing me money.
    ‘I put it to Grenwood’s account that my husband has turned into a dissipated drunkard,’ she said