Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance)

CONTENTS
Cover
Also by Lucinda Brant
Title Page
Frontispiece
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Deadly Affair Preview
Noble Satyr Preview
Midnight Marriage Preview
Autumn Duchess Preview
Salt Bride Preview
About The Author
Lucinda Brant Recommends

ALSO BY LUCINDA BRANT
Deadly Affair
A Georgian Historical Mystery
Alec Halsey Crimance Book 2
Noble Satyr
A Georgian Historical Romance
Roxton Series Book 1
Midnight Marriage
A Georgian Historical Romance
Roxton Series Book 2
Autumn Duchess
A Georgian Historical Romance
Roxton Series Book 3
Salt Bride
A Georgian Historical Romance

for my parents
Grace & Eric

Copyright 2011
Lucinda Brant
all rights reserved
Kindle Edition by
Sprigleaf

Alec Halsey strode into the cool of the wide marble hall of St. Neots House, home of his godmother the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots, and hastily struggled out of greatcoat, leather riding gloves, sash and sword. He pressed these on an attending footman and then went up the curved marble staircase two steps at a time. On the first landing he paused, as if remembering his manners, and leaned over the mahogany balustrade. “Neave?” he called out to the butler, “Tell the Duchess I’ll be with her shortly!”

“Her Grace has guests to nuncheon, sir!” Neave called up into the dome of the cavernous entrance foyer. “And Miss Emily is—” Alec Halsey’s head of black curls disappeared from view and the butler spun around, saw two footmen juggling the visitor’s belongings between them and pointed a finger at the youngest, a freckle-faced youth with a mop of red-hair. “Go after him! He’s not to disturb Miss Emily. Your job on it, boy.”

Alec was in the passageway that led to the rooms occupied by the Duchess’s granddaughter when quick breathing at his back made him turn. A young footman came scrambling towards him much in the fashion of a puppy not grown into its long legs.

From behind a set of double doors came the sounds of female chatter and laughter.

“Sir? Please, sir. No!” the young footman pleaded, coming to a dead stop in front of the tall, loose-limbed gentleman. “You can’t go in there! Mr. Neave will have m’job if you do!”

Alec paused, long fingers curled about the door handle, and stared down at the freckle-faced youth who respectfully lowered his eyes and shuffled his feet. Something about the boy was oddly familiar and made him pause. “What’s your name?”

The footman gave a start. The pleasant drawling voice wasn’t angry, just curious and it made him glance up warily to wonder what was the intent behind the gentleman’s question. But there was no hint of insolence in the kind, friendly blue eyes that crinkled at the corners; no fancy airs and affected voice like so many of the visitors to St. Neots House. Even the clothes this gentleman wore were not out of the ordinary; no silver lacings, no frothy lace at his wrists, no diamond buckles in the tongues of his leather shoes; just good dark cloth, a plain linen cravat and shoes without high heels. Perhaps he could reason with him and not have his ears boxed for doing his job. He swallowed hard and let his gaze wander to the door, “Beggin’ pardon, sir. Thomas Fisher was what I was christened but most call me Tam, sir.”

“Thomas Fisher,” stated Alec, racking his brain for a memory; he made no immediate connection. He followed the boy’s gaze to the double doors. “Well, Thomas Fisher: Tam, I’m going in there with or without your approval. Think me presentable enough to announce?”

Tam wondered if he was being roasted. There was a look in those blue eyes he could not make out. If Neave discovered him in conversation with a visitor, he’d be out on the streets again. And gentlemen callers, if they were gentlemen, did not enter a lady’s private apartments; they certainly didn’t canvass the opinions of footmen. He set his jaw hard and put just enough insolence into his voice to make the gentleman know his place. “Presentable, sir?”

Alec lifted a hand. “I’m not fragile. Out with it. It’s the hair, isn’t it?” he said, gathering the shoulder length hair tidily at the nape of his neck and retying the ribbon that held it in place. “Not enough wax and no powder. Can’t abide either.”

In spite of himself, Tam grinned. “It’s just as you say, sir. Your shoes will pass inspection. Females don’t care a whisker for dust on y’shoes, yet they like a gentleman to be
neat
. Least that’s what Jenny says. She can’t abide an ill-fitting wig or one with not enough powder. Says it ain’t right. But your hair—”

“—is my own. Yes. It’s my one concession to vanity,” said Alec with a wink and slipped behind the door before the footman could stop him.

Tam cursed under his breath and dashed after him, saying as he crossed into the decidedly feminine sitting room, “Please, sir! Miss Emily is with her dressmaker. She ain’t receiving visitors and I doubt—”

“Don’t worry, Tam, I’ll vouch for you with Neave.”

“—she’ll notice your boots or your hair on account of the celebrations.”

This brought Alec Halsey up short and he turned and stared at him, puzzled. “Celebrations?”

Tam stepped up to him. “The engagement celebrations, sir. There’s to be a weekend party here. Here at St. Neots House.”

“Engagement celebrations?
Here
?”

Tam saw the gentleman’s look of total confusion. It was clear these tidings were new to him. “Yes, sir. Haven’t you been told, sir?”

“I returned yesterday from the Continent. I’ve been away eight months. An engagement celebration you say. Whose?”

“Miss Emily’s, sir.”

“No!”

“Yes, sir. Miss Emily is engaged to be married.”

“
When
?”

“Pardon, sir?”

“When.
When
did this happen?”

“Jenny, she’s Miss Emily’s maid—”

“I know who Jenny is!”

Tam lowered his eyes. He’d never seen a face turn as white as a sheet. He’d heard the expression. The housekeeper used it quite a bit. He was witness to it now. Alec Halsey’s angular face had not only drained of natural color, but under his linen cravat his throat had constricted. He suddenly looked ill. Tam wondered if he should fetch up a brandy.

Alec swallowed. “I didn’t mean… It’s just—”

“No need to explain, sir,” Tam said quickly, averting his gaze and shuffling his feet, feeling the gentleman’s embarrassment. He wished he could help him in some way. He didn’t care for Miss Emily’s betrothed, despite Jenny’s opinion that the Earl of Delvin was the handsomest nobleman in the kingdom. Lord Delvin certainly presented well dressed in the latest fashionable powdered wig, tight-shouldered frockcoat of elaborately embroidered silk, diamonds in his shoe-buckles and yards of frothy lace gathered up at his wrists and throat, but there was something about the nobleman that would not wash. Tam wished he had tangible evidence for this feeling, particularly when Jenny continually sung the Earl’s praises. “Jenny told me, sir,” he said glumly. “Miss Emily became engaged three days ago.”

“
Three days
…”

Tam winced at the wretchedness in the deep voice. “I’m—I’m sorry, sir.”

There was a long silence. It was broken by Jenny who rushed out of her mistress’s bedchamber, saying something over her shoulder, and ran straight into Tam. She fell back a pace and put a hand to her hair. “Tam? What are you doing—Oh!” She saw Alec and dropped a respectful curtsy. “Mr.—Mr. Halsey? Sir!” Her eyes went very round and she glanced at Tam, who kept his eyes lowered and his hands behind his back.

There was a rush of silk petticoats behind her, one or two voices raised in protest, and then Emily stood there in all her fair loveliness, straw-blonde curls caught up off her shoulders with a couple of long pins. She had on a new gown of patterned silk that was held together with tacking and needed alteration at the bodice, for it was cut far too low for the Duchess’s liking.

Madame the French dressmaker was at her elbow, urging her to come back into the room so she could continue with her work. Catching sight of a gentleman she gave a French squeak of alarm. Jenny spun about to shield her mistress from prying eyes but when Emily saw who it was she forgot Madame’s pins and threw herself at Alec’s inanimate form.

“You’re home at last! You’ve no idea how much we’ve missed you. Grandmamma said not a word. Did you two conspire to surprise me? How like you! Oh, it’s
so
good to see you.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the bedchamber, oblivious to the fact his mood did not match her own. “Careful where you step. It’s fitting day today. Jenny? Jenny! Forget the tea. Bring champagne.
Yes
. Champagne. We’re going to celebrate Alec’s return.” She shooed Madame and her assistants away. “I’ll get out of this wretched thing and then I can give you a proper welcome home. So, what do you think of this gown? Do you approve?”