The Heart That Lies by April Munday Read Free Book Online

Meldon stood alone. When had he started to think of himself as old? He was not yet thirty, not much older than most of his guests and younger than some of them.
    He had kept himself apart for too long, but, even as he watched the dancers, he had no desire to join them. He had not invited silly women, feeling that Smith would feel about them the same way as he did himself, but none of his female guests made his heart beat faster. He had no interest in being alone with any of them. He did not wonder what it would be like to kiss them. He did not wish to dance with any of his guests.
    He turned his attention back to Smith. He danced well and smiled at his partner as he should, but every now and again he glanced at Meldon. At the end of the set he excused himself from his partner and came to stand next to the earl.
    “You look lonely, my lord. Do you desire company?”
    “Would you leave me alone if I said I did not?”
    “Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude.” The boy looked crushed.
    “No, forgive me, I was rude. Stay if you wish.”
    They stood in awkward silence for a while.
    “Is she here, the woman you love?” It was impertinent, but he had to know.
    “Yes.”
    “I have not noticed you particularly seek out the company of any woman.”
    “I do not wish to cause any embarrassment by making my feelings obvious.”
    “But you could dance with her.”
    Smith’s face became sad, “No, that will not be possible. Please, ask no more.”
    “You don’t wish to dance with her.”
    “I desire nothing more.”
    The boy looked away quickly, but not before Meldon had seen the wetness of a tear in his eye. Here was a man who could not hide his feelings.
    “You must become harder, Mr Smith,” said Meldon gently. “Other men will ask more intrusive questions than I.”
    “Perhaps I should lie to them.”
    “That is certainly a solution.”
    “But you do not think I can carry it off?”
    “On the contrary , I believe it is the nature of this age to lie. We are none of us what we appear.”
    Smith seemed to pale. “Not even you, my lord?”
    “Especially not me,” said Meldon, for now it seemed to him that he felt a real affection for the young man standing next to him. He was beginning to cast aside his suspicion that the boy had been sent by the French to embroil him in some scandal or to enable them to blackmail him. He had never been interested in boys and doubted that anyone would think of it as a way to bring pressure to bear on him.
    “And what is the nature of my dissembling ?” asked Smith, his face sceptical.
    “You are a gambler disguised as a poet.”
    Smith laughed uneasily.
    “ That is easy for you to discern, since it is what I told you myself. And your own deception?”
    Which of the many could he reveal? “That I am a man without passion.”
    Smith laughed again. “That is not a disguise you wear very well.”
    “Really? I thought I was rather good at it.”
    “Each time we have met you have talked passionately about your estate and your plans for it. Everyone knows that you would rather be there than here. That is the object of your passion.”
    Meldon had always thought that this was part of his disguise and was shocked to find that he had revealed himself through it.
    “Is everyone else in this room as easy for you to see through?”
    Smith shook his head. “I have not spent enough time with anyone else except Mr Finch and he, well, he is not as stupid as he chooses to appear.”
    Meldon tried to keep his face blank. He had always considered Finch’s stupidity well done. It was not exaggerated and he did not make himself seem so stupid that he could not be expected to be the friend of an astute man like Meldon.
    Meldon looked at Smith appraisingly. Could this man be a replacement for Vincent? His ability to see through people would be useful, but Meldon found he did not like the idea of introducing Smith to his more dangerous world, even for the sake of his country. Vincent would still