Resurrection Row Read Online Free PDF Page B

alone who were too old, too ugly, or too honest to go on the streets. He looked at Vespasia’s lace and Hester’s minuscule pin tucks.
    “Yes,” he said harshly. “I am.”
    Vespasia’s eyes gleamed in instant recognition of his thoughts. “And you do not approve,” she said slowly. “Abominable places, especially where the children are concerned.”
    “Yes,” Pitt agreed.
    “Nevertheless, necessary, and all the poor law allows,” she continued.
    “Yes.” The word came hard.
    “Politics have their uses.” She barely moved her head to indicate the others. “That is how things are changed.”
    He reversed his opinion of her, mentally apologizing. “You are moving to change them?”
    “It is worth trying. But no doubt you have come about that disgusting business yesterday in the church. A piece of the most appalling distaste.”
    “If you please. I would appreciate speaking with you, if you will; certain investigations might be accomplished more—discreetly.”
    She snorted. She knew perfectly well he meant that they might be accomplished with a good deal less trouble, and probably more accurately, but the presence of the others prevented her from saying so. He saw it in her face and smiled.
    She understood precisely, and her eyes lit up, but she refused to smile back.
    Carlisle stood up slowly. He was more solid and probably stronger than he had appeared at the internment.
    “Perhaps there is little more that we can do at the moment,” he said to Vespasia. “I will have our notes written up, and we can consider them again. I fancy we have not yet all the information. We must supply St. Jermyn with everything there is; otherwise he will not be able to argue our case against those who have a few contradictions to it, however ill conceived.”
    Hester rose also, and Desmond followed her.
    “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m sure you are correct. Good morning, Lady Cumming-Gould—” He regarded Pitt indecisively, not able to address a policeman as a social equal, and yet confounded because he was apparently a fellow guest in the withdrawing room of his hostess.
    Carlisle rescued him. “Good morning, Inspector. I wish you a rapid success in your business.”
    “Good morning, sir.” Pitt bowed his head very slightly. “Good morning, ma’am.”
    When they had gone and the door was closed, Vespasia looked up at him. “For goodness’ sake sit down,” she ordered. “You make me uncomfortable standing there like a footman.”
    Pitt obeyed, finding the overstuffed sofa more accommodating than it appeared; it was soft and spacious enough for him to spread himself.
    “What do you know about Lord Augustus Fitzroy-Hammond?” he asked. Suddenly the lightness had evaporated, and there was only death left—and perhaps murder.
    “Augustus?” She looked at him long and steadily. “Do you mean do I know anyone who might hire lunatics to disinter the wretched man? No, I do not. He was not a person I cared for; no imagination, and therefore, of course, no sense of humor. But that is hardly a cause to dig him up—rather the opposite, I would have thought.”
    “So would I,” Pitt agreed very softly. “In fact, every reason to wish him in his grave.”
    Vespasia’s face changed. It was the only time he could recall her losing that magnificent composure.
    “Good God!” She breathed out a long sigh. “You don’t think he was murdered!”
    “I have to consider it,” he answered. “At least as a possibility. He was dug up twice now; that is more than coincidence. It may be insanity, but it is not random insanity. Whoever it is means Lord Augustus to remain unburied—for whatever reason.”
    “But he was so very ordinary,” she said with exasperation and a touch of pity. “He was wealthy, but not exceptionally so; the title is not worth anything, and anyway, there is no one to inherit it. He was pleasing enough to look at, but not handsome, and far too pompous to have a romantic affaire. I really can think