Free Angels in the Gloom by Anne Perry

the blood-soaked beaches of Gallipoli, the battlefields of Italy and the Balkans, and even the bitter slaughter of the Russian Front. He had written about them all with a passion and humanity unequaled by any other journalist, and with unsurpassed courage.
    He had been not only the ideal ally, but the Peacemaker had honestly liked him. Losing him last year had been a double blow. He could still remember his shock even more than his anger when Mason had stood here in this room, exhausted and beaten, and told him that he had changed his mind.
    That had been the doing of Joseph Reavley, of all people! Reavley, whom he had discounted as a useless dreamer, a man who would wish well, and lack the nerve to act.
    Damn Joseph Reavley and his stupid and desperately misguided emotionalism. He was exactly like his father, and he had cost the Peacemaker his best ally.
    Nothing he could say afterward had changed Mason’s resolve. But now, a year later, it was time to try again, even harder, to swallow his own pride and win him back. Argument did not work. He must use emotion, as Reavley had, and his very considerable charm. It might be inwardly humiliating, but for the sake of the greater peace it would be infinitely worth it. And such peace would not come without cost to them all. He should not expect to be immune, professionally or personally.
    He moved away from the window. He would begin tonight.
    CHAPTER FOUR
    Hannah heard the front door bang, and Luke came running up the hall. She had told him a score of times not to run inside the house. She turned to tell him again just as she heard the vase topple off the hall table and crash to the floor. She knew from the sound of it that it had smashed, not into a couple of pieces, but dozens.
    Then she heard Jenny’s voice, strident and sharp.
    Hannah stormed into the hall. “Jenny! I’ve told you not to use that word! Go to your room!”
    Jenny’s face crumpled. “That’s not fair! It was Luke who broke the vase, it wasn’t me!”
    “Tell tale tit! Tell tale tit!” Luke sang, hopping up and down.
    “And you go into the garden and pull the weeds in the vegetable patch until I tell you it’s enough!” Hannah barked at him. “Now!”
    “But I…” he started.
    “Now!” she repeated. “If you want any supper.”
    “It’s not fair!” he complained. “It was an accident! She called me…”
    “If I have to tell you again, you’ll have no supper,” Hannah warned him. She meant it. She was furious and frightened. Loss seemed to be crowding in on every side, like a darkness falling, and she knew no way out.
    Both children went to obey, Jenny crying, Luke stifling his misery as a matter of pride.
    Joseph came in through the side door, holding it open for Luke, who did not even glance upward at him.
    “Thank you!” Hannah called after him. “Where are your manners?”
    Luke ignored her and disappeared.
    Just as miserable herself, she bent to pick up the pieces of the shattered vase. It had been her mother’s, and was not just beautiful, but full of memories. There were too many fragments even to think of mending it. She felt bereft, as if a part of her history had been taken from her. In spite of all she could do, the tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
    Joseph bent down beside her and, with his good hand, picked up some of the shards and put them on the table. He said nothing about her shouting at the children, nor did he go after either one of them to undo the pain she had caused.
    “Say it!” she charged him accusingly as she stood up. “You think I’m unfair, don’t you?”
    He looked at her, smiling, and it was a moment or two before she realized it was not kindness but amusement.
    “You think it’s funny!” she said furiously. She was ashamed of herself. Alys would have done so much better, but she was damned if she was going to tell him that.
    His smile did not lessen in the slightest. “You’re just like Mother,” he answered. “I