Rutland Place by Anne Perry Read Free Book Online Page B

a courtesy that she asked.
    “Thank you, but we would not wish to be of inconvenience,” Caroline said, declining in an accepted formula. It would be less than flattering to say that they had already taken tea elsewhere. She turned to the mantelshelf. “What a delightful picture! I don’t believe I have noticed it before.”
    Personally, Charlotte would not have given it houseroom, but tastes varied.
    “Do you like it?” Eloise looked up, a flicker of amusement in her face. “I always think it makes the house look rather dark, and it isn’t really like that at all. But Tormod is fond of it, so I let it hang there.”
    “That is your country house?” Charlotte asked the obvious question because there was nothing else she could think of to say, and she knew that the reply would provide material for several minutes’ polite discussion. They were still on the subject of town and country differences when the door opened and a young man came in who Charlotte knew immediately must be Eloise’s brother. He had the same mass of dark hair and the same wide eyes and pale skin. The resemblance in features was not so great, however; he had a higher brow, with the hair sweeping away from it in a broad wave, and his nose was rather aquiline. His mouth was wide, quick to laugh, and, Charlotte judged, quick to sulk. Now he came forward with easy, quite natural grace.
    “Mrs. Ellison, what a pleasure to see you.” He slipped his arm around Eloise. “I don’t believe I have met your companion?”
    “My daughter Mrs. Pitt.” Caroline smiled back. “Mr. Tormod Lagarde.”
    He bowed very slightly.
    “Welcome to Rutland Place, Mrs. Pitt. I hope we shall see you often.”
    “That is most kind of you,” Charlotte replied.
    Tormod sat next to Eloise on a broad sofa.
    “I expect I shall call upon my mother more often as the spring approaches,” Charlotte added.
    “I’m afraid the winter is very grim,” he answered. “One feels far more like remaining close to the fire than venturing out to go visiting. In fact, we quite often retreat altogether to our house in the country and simply close the doors all January and February.”
    Eloise’s face warmed as if at some sweet and lingering memory. She said nothing, but Charlotte imagined she could see reflected in her eyes the light of Christmases with trees and lanterns, pinecone fires and hot toast, and long, happy companionship too easy to need the communication of words.
    Tormod fished in his pocket and brought out a small package.
    “Here.” He held it out to Eloise. “To replace the one you lost.”
    She took it, looking up at him, then down at the little parcel in her hands.
    “Open it!” he commanded. “It’s not so very special.”
    Slowly she obeyed, anticipation and pleasure in her face.
    Inside the parcel was a small, silver-handled buttonhook.
    “Thank you, dear,” she said gently. “That really was most thoughtful of you. Especially since it might so easily have been my own fault. I shall feel dreadfully guilty now if the other one turns up and I had merely been careless all the time.” She looked over at Charlotte, apology and a touch of embarrassment in her face. “I lost my old one that I had for years. I think it went from my reticule, but I suppose I might have put it somewhere else and forgotten.”
    Charlotte’s desire to know was stronger than her good judgment to keep silent on the subject. “You mean you think it could have been stolen?” she asked, feigning surprise.
    Tormod dismissed it. “These things happen sometimes. It’s an unpleasant thought, but one must face reality—servants do steal from time to time. But since it appears to have happened in someone else’s house, it is far better to say nothing. It would be in very poor taste to embarrass a friend by letting it be known. Besides, as Eloise says, it may turn up—although I doubt it now.”
    Caroline cleared her throat nervously. “But should theft be condoned?” she said a