FLY HIGH: Literature, art, movies and much more to fly high!
Time for a good book on Fly High. Published as an e-book so far, but coming out as a hard-cover by the end of the year. I had the pleasure to receive this historical novel directly from its author. Did I like it. I simply loved it! It's a "crimance": a blend of crime and romance genres. If you dream of a book with a gorgeous hero, thrilling emotions, romance and intrigue, wit and elegance, silk and powdered wigs, you won't be disappointed.   full review...
© Maria Grazia

  Amazon
Thoroughly enjoyable introduction to this type of historical fiction. Brant has a deft palette of Regency detail and which contributes to a strong backbone for the narrative. The characters are larger than life and its not hard to read with a visual image in mind. I like the way Brant herself describes the book as crimance... a perfect genre description. The plot twisted and turned beautifully and I can honestly say I had no idea 'whodunnit' until it was revealed. I loved and hated certain characters... and look forward to the end of the year when the sequel is released. Brant's writing is filled with freshness and wit and Deadly Engagement is highly recommended.
 © Prudence J. Batten

  Amazon
A reviewer recommended this novel if the reader was a fan of Sebastian St. Cyr or Julian Krestel. Those two names were all I needed to purchase this book and I so glad I did! Having read all of the Sebastian St. Cyr series and searching for Julian Krestel novels until they are published in Kindle format, I have been searching for similar works and happily stubbled across this wonderful novel after doing a "historical mystery" search.  Twist and turns abound in this historical mystery set in the late 1700's. Alec Halsey, second son has returned after performing diplomatic work overseas only to discover that his elder brother has become betrothed to his intended. To say that his elder brother despises him is an understatement and it appear early on that that Lord Delvin will do whatever it takes to discredit, ruin and run his brother out of town. Murder abounds at a house party to celebrate Lord Delvin and Emily's engagement, where no one quite seems who they appear to be. Wonderful mystery, attention to detail and lush descriptions take the reader back in time. I will definitely check out this author's other works. If you are looking for something new to read until the next Sebastian St. Cyr or Lady Julia Grey book is published. Take a chance and add this to your wish list. You will be glad to find another series to become enamored with. I know I am.
 © shinergirl

  Library Thing
A true page turner! I was easily transported to a time long since passed, where there were men of honor, and elegant women. There was and instant connection with Alec, he is smoldering and entertaining as a character, nothing like his brother. Although he gets in to his own kind of trouble (drinking and women) he is a hero in his own right. Without giving too much away, this book has murder, mystery, intrigue and romance, beautiful women and men, and the ability to take you away. My suggestion, pick it up you wont be disappointed!
© nakisisa

  Amazon
I love most mystery stories, and this was a great addition to my collection. It's not a period I've read much about, but Brant writes vividly enough that I was easily invited into her world. The plot was different enough from other mysteries I've read, and even though I was guessing the whole time about whom I thought the culprit was, I was still surprised by everything and it kept me guessing - a great feeling. I was nervous at first about the large number of characters in the story, but each of them was developed so clearly that I never had trouble keeping them straight. All in all, an excellent read and I look forward to the next in the series.
© leschak3188

  iBooks

  Library Thing

  Amazon
A truly intriguing one. A real page turner... If you dream of a book with a gorgeous hero, thrilling emotions, romance and intrigue, wit and elegance, silk and powdered wigs, you won't be disappointed, you'll find it in Lucinda Brant's DEADLY ENGAGEMENT.
© Maria Grazia

  All About Murder
…an exciting and gripping tale of passion, murder and mistaken identity… This is one Georgian page turner I savored until the very end.
© Ingrid Taylor

    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?”
    “The bodice is indecent.”
    “So Grandmamma says. But it’s the fashion.” She disappeared behind an ornate screen set in one corner of the sunny room and Madame followed, clucking over her in broken English. “You’ll be pleased with me. I’ve kept Phoenix well exercised,” Emily called out from behind the screen. “To the detriment of my horses. I was out on him this morning. Remember that problem he was having with his left hock? Well, it’s all better, so you needn’t worry. I suppose you’ll be taking him back to St. James’s Place? There!”
    When she reappeared, Alec was by the window looking out on the long sweep of east lawn and not seeing any of it. He wished himself anywhere but here. He felt suddenly weary. When she came over to him and playfully tugged his sleeve he could not bring himself to look at her.
    “I’m decently dressed,” she said, sitting on the window seat beside where he stood. “All up to the neck and shoes on my feet too!” When he made no response to her playful banter she added conversationally, “How was Paris? Did you bring me something wonderful? Something to wear? Or something for this room perhaps? And I must thank you for the fan you sent at Christmastime. It’s beautiful. Grandmamma was quite envious.”
    Alec turned and looked about the untidy room, at the deep carpets covered in dressmaking patterns and fabrics, at the familiar pictures on the patterned-papered walls, but not at her. Everything was as he remembered it. He had often come up here. To have tea at the little table by the window. To hear the latest news of town and to tell her in return the happenings at the Continental Courts. The look on Tam’s face! The boy had no idea, had he? He wondered if Jenny was at this moment giving him a good tongue-lashing.
    Jenny came back into the room then, followed by Tam carrying a tray. He put it down on the small table by the arrangement of sofa, chaise longue and chairs and glanced at Alec to find him staring at him in a vacant sort of way. Jenny saw it too and with a quick word Tam left them alone.
    “I brought you a brandy, sir,” Jenny said gently.
    “No, Jenny. We are going to drink champagne. Aren’t we, Alec?”
    Alec took the brandy glass and drank without tasting.
    Emily sipped her champagne thoughtfully. “Will they give you a post here now? You—You aren’t going away again so soon, are you?”
    “What’s his name?”
    Emily blinked at his bluntness. “I beg your pardon?”
    “The name of your betrothed,” he enunciated coldly. “What—is—his—name?”
    There was a scratch on the outer door and Jenny was glad to go in answer to it, leaving Emily all alone and feeling for the first time in her life uneasy with her grandmother’s godson. She did not understand his coldness. She thought her own happiness would be sufficient for him to be happy for her. How many times had he lectured her in the manner of an elder brother, on the importance of being guided by her elders but not to be forced into a marriage she disliked. And she had done precisely that. Perhaps he needed reassurance? Fortified with a gulp of champagne she bravely stared up at him and said,
    “I want to marry Edward. When he sought my hand in marriage Grandmamma let it be known that the decision was mine, that I did not have to accept him if I did not want to. But,” she said in a clearer voice, her happiness giving her strength, “I do want to marry him. I want to marry him very much.”
    “Edward? Edward…” Alec repeated quietly. “That isn’t much to go on. Who is this fellow?”
    “We had only met on a few occasions, and those at public gatherings, but I knew straight away that if he did ask me I would accept him,” Emily continued, because Alec looked wholly unconvinced. “Grandmamma is very happy for me, especially so because I am to marry an earl.” She looked down at the bubbles of champagne, adding nervously, “Not that that circumstance means much to you—”
    “It doesn’t. I don’t care for title,” he stated. “Edward, Earl of what?”
    “—but it matters to Grandmamma,” Emily said firmly, finishing the sentence despite being close to tears. She wished Jenny would return. She didn’t know for how much longer she could sit here with Alec looking for all the world as if her engagement was the worse news he had ever heard in his life. “Edward warned me you’d take it badly,” she confessed naively. “But I assured him you would only want for my happiness. And you do want me to be happy, don’t you, Alec?” she asked in a small voice. “Regardless of the ill feeling between the two of you, I hope you’ll see that he wants to make me happy. He is very solicitous and caring and, oh—everything a girl could ask for in a husband. I know you’ve been estranged since small boys. You could very well be strangers, not brothers at all…”
    He stopped listening the moment he realized she was engaged to his elder brother. If he was shocked into senselessness to discover she was engaged to be married, he was now beyond rational thought knowing that the man who had robbed him of her was his own brother; this, not the first time his brother had interfered in Alec’s life.
    Six years ago Delvin had put a stop to Alec’s engagement to Selina Vesey. A second son with a thousand a year wasn’t entitled to marry an heiress, whatever his brilliant prospects in the Foreign Department. When his elder brother, who was also head of the family, publicly voiced his opposition to such an unequal match Alec’s fate was sealed. Alec not only endured the humiliation of having his suit rejected by Selina’s father but was forced to stand by while the love of his life was married off to George Jamison-Lewis, who had ten thousand a year, was grandson of a Duke and one of his brother’s cronies.
    Alec never expected to fully recover from his disappointment but time helped close the wound. And just when he had convinced himself that in asking Emily to marry him he would finally be moving his life forward, his brother’s timely interference had robbed him once more of personal happiness. What was he to do?
    Before he knew what he was about he found himself half way down the curved staircase, full of purpose, to do what, he had no idea. He just knew he had to get out of St. Neots House, to escape from a thousand memories locked within its walls, and to get away from Emily. He had to find a place where he could think calmly and rationally. Failing that, he would find a place where he need not think at all…
     
    A lady in black mourning crepe had just ascended the staircase and it was inevitable that they would collide; such was the width of her hooped petticoats and Alec’s blind determination to quit St. Neots House. The lady’s quick thinking saved her from taking a tumble. She grabbed the banister rail with a gloved hand, while the other clung to the gentleman’s sleeve; a small party taking leave in the foyer below breathed a collective sigh of relief.
    It was not until the woman’s body fell hard against him and he instinctively caught her that Alec realized he had run full force into someone coming up the staircase. He held her hard against his chest, their hearts thudding as one as he waited for them both to be steady on their feet. In the brief moment she was in his arms he breathed in the pleasing flowery scent of her hair and inexplicably felt a stab of nostalgia. He knew her identity at once. Instantly he released her with a curt apology for crushing the silk of her petticoats, and would have passed her then but she unintentionally moved in the same direction, and again they blocked each other’s path. The woman’s quiet apology finally lifted Alec’s gaze to her face.
    She was one step below him and had gathered up her billowing petticoats, positioning herself with her straight back up against the mahogany balustrade to let him pass. Yet, Alec remained as if fixed to the marble step. He stared at her, as if at an apparition for he had not been within ten feet of her in six years. He never dreamed of seeing her in mourning, though in the darkest days of his despair he had wished it upon her time and again. But not here, not now, not on this of all days. Large dark eyes full of sorrow stared up at him and he turned his head away, color flooding his close-shaven cheeks.
    “Did Emily tell you her news, Mr. Halsey?” Selina Jamison-Lewis asked quietly, the blood drumming so loudly in her ears at this unexpected encounter that she couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice. “Her engagement it—it came as a surprise to all of us.”
    Alec’s blue eyes stared pointedly at her mourning gown before again meeting her eyes. “No doubt an ill-timed and disappointing announcement for you, Madam…?”
    Selina’s lips parted but she did not trust herself to speak and so stood mute as he made her a short bow and went on his way, her blush as red as the young footman’s hair who rudely bumped her shoulder in his pursuit of Alec Halsey.
    Alec ignored the knot of persons leave taking by the door and pushed through the ministering footmen without a word or a look. When the butler stepped forward with his greatcoat he demanded his sword and put out a hand for his gloves. Neave said something to him, but he wasn’t listening. A bejeweled hand touched his arm. It was his godmother. But Alec angrily shrugged off the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots as he snatched his sash and sword from a footman, over setting the Duchess who stumbled backwards to be caught at the elbow by her butler. Five footmen rushed to her aid. An old man with gray-grizzled hair stepped forward, but it was the Earl of Delvin who took matters into his own hands.
    The Earl poked his brother in the kidney with the end of his Malacca cane.
    “You’re in a hurry, Second,” Delvin drawled. “Can’t go bargin’ about other people’s houses knocking ’em willy-nilly. It’s not done. Not done at all. Dear Mrs. Jamison-Lewis could’ve broken her neck on the stairs just now, and you of all people certainly wouldn’t want to see the beautiful young widow join her dearly departed so soon, would you? For a diplomatist you certainly show a marked lack of man—”
    It needed only that. Alec snatched at the cane and threw it away from him before pushing his brother up against the nearest wall, a hand about the layers of lace at his throat, long fingers pushing the Earl’s chin up until he was forced to look Alec directly in the eye. No match for his younger brother’s rage of strength, Delvin offered little resistance.
    “You cold-hearted blood sucker,” Alec spat in his face. “I wish to God you were no brother of mine!”
    The Earl attempted a moment of bravado. “You’re a fool, Second,” he hissed viciously. “Time you learned your place: no female wants second best.”
    “If they want you then they’re not worth the having,” Alec sneered, fingers convulsing about his brother’s throat until the Earl spluttered for breath and clawed at his strong hand.
    A cluster of open-mouthed footmen stared at the two gentlemen struggling by the open front door. As mesmerized as his fellows, the butler stood rooted to the spot until the Duchess demanded that someone do something to break up the fight. With an imperious snap of his fingers, Neave scattered the footmen. It was left to the grizzled haired old man to step in and put a stop to the one-sided fight between his nephews.
    “Alec! Stop!” growled Plantagenet Halsey. “Let him be!”
    Delvin was released at once and fell to his silken knees, gasping great gulps of air into his deprived lungs. He quickly picked himself up and attempted to regain his arrogant bravado by brushing the sleeves of his velvet frockcoat and straightening the lace at his wrists as if he had been touched by something unclean. Alec stared at him with contempt, hands balled into fists of frustrated rage. He saw the butler with eyes suitably lowered, and standing beside him the freckled-faced footman who had introduced himself as Tam. And when he glanced at his uncle, he saw so much unspoken sadness in the old blue eyes that Alec turned away from him with impatience. A glance up at the staircase and there was Selina still on the step where he had left her. God, what had he done to deserve her silent witness? His humiliation complete, Alec made the Duchess a curt bow and strode from the house.
     
    Tam followed Alec to town. He took a horse from the stables while the stable hands were busy with the Earl of Delvin’s carriage horses. No one thought to question him. He was astride the animal and at full gallop down the gravel drive before one of his fellow footmen came to fetch him to answer to Neave.
    The ride was not easy, nor was it a simple matter of following as close as he dare without being seen. Alec never looked back. He rode his mount as if his life depended upon it, oblivious to the horse and rider that fell in behind him and stayed close all the way to Hyde Park corner.
    The closer to town and the open fields and hamlets turned into the newer suburbs of the wealthy merchant princes and town residences of the aristocracy. Then the openness of the new squares narrowed to filthy streets congested with the continuous rumble of carriages, single horsemen, and carts laden with merchandise for markets in the city. Town criers competed to be heard with the sellers of oranges and apples, flowers, household-wares and freshly-cooked oysters, all shouting out in their sing-song voices the excellent value and superior quality of their merchandise.
    Once they hit the congestion of town traffic Alec’s pace slackened. Tam still needed to keep his wits so as not to lose sight of his man. He could easily disappear up a side street never to be seen again. Where would that leave Tam? As it was, he knew he could never return to St. Neots House. Neave would make certain of that. His future now lay in Alec Halsey’s hands. And if he didn’t keep close to him, find out where he lived, there would be no opportunity to plead his case.
    London was not new to Tam. In fact, he found it strangely exhilarating to be once again amongst the noise and the dirt, but he was careful to keep an undistracted eye on Alec Halsey’s straight back, just up ahead of him, and who now dismounted in the cobbled yard of The Rose in Drury Lane: an establishment frequented by prostitutes and low life wanting nothing better to do than brawl with one another.
    When Alec stepped back onto the street, it was late afternoon, and he was not alone. Three rough-looking men were at his back. Dressed in ill-fitting, coarse-clothed frockcoats and darned stockings splattered with town muck they jostled one another, as if sharing a private joke as they followed Alec on foot in the direction of the Covent Garden markets. Tam, who had been dozing in a filthy corner of the stable yard trying for all the world to look as if he belonged there, scrambled up and went after them; the horse he had taken from the St. Neots’ stables left in the care of a toothless ostler.
    It was at Covent Garden that Tam lost sight of Alec and his companions. Leaving The Rose, he ran up the road until he was only a few yards behind his quarry. Alec seemed in no hurry. He sauntered along the footpath, hands thrust deep in the pockets of his riding frock, while his new-found friends continued on with their banal banter, any remark made to Alec met with monosyllabic responses. Tam had a difficult time hanging back and was glad when they came to the edge of the market square. There were vegetable and fruit sellers, flower stalls, wagons and carts jostling with one another for space, and everywhere the smell of the country mingled with the soot and grime of the city. The noise was deafening.
    Tam dodged in and around laden wagons, tripped on a cobbled street uneven and slick with rotting vegetables, and picked himself up to find he was the center of attention for a number of young ragged scamps, laughing at his expense. He shooed them off, brushed himself down and momentarily forgot his purpose catching the smell of hot pies and sweet fruit. He was suddenly ravenous and remembered he had not eaten since before dawn, and then only a fist of bread and chunk of cheese. Food was out of the question. He had no money.
    Yet, as he continued along the street thinking of his empty stomach, the markets now behind him, the thought of a hot pie became suddenly repellent. He had lost Alec Halsey in the crowd. He stopped in the middle of the footpath wondering what to do and was shoved this way and that by pedestrians going about their business. A tradesman pushing a cart shouted at him but Tam neither saw or heard the man. He turned and retraced his steps to the corner where he had taken the fall and started a search of the side streets and alleyways. He ran almost to the Strand, out of breath and an ache in his side. There was no sign of the man and his companions. Again he returned to the corner where he had fallen and this time crouched on his haunches in the doorway of a disused warehouse that had its lower windows boarded up.
    He tried not to panic. There was possibly only an hour before dusk. Already the light was dimming. Although he knew the area well he did not like the thought of spending the night without food and shelter. That Alec Halsey might have fallen foul of the three men from the Rose did not bear thinking about. The gentleman wore a sword and by the width of his shoulders and the muscle in his calves he looked well able to take care of himself in a mill. Still, three on one were not good odds in anyone’s books. And as Tam stared vacantly at the row of buildings diagonally opposite, at the coming and going of carriages and sedan chairs and men on foot, he wondered how it was possible for four men to vanish so completely. He watched the activity in the street for a long time before realizing the answer stared him in the face. His quarry had gone into one of those buildings. One building stood out from all the others.
    Its entrance was set back off the street under an elegant portico and could be easily overlooked by the busy pedestrian. Tam crossed the street to better view the entrance. A doorman was in attendance. It must be a private club of sorts because the gentlemen being admitted were not of the class or position to frequent the area for any other purpose. If Alec had disappeared behind those doors, perhaps to be rid of his companions, then Tam would possibly have a long wait ahead of him. He curled up in a doorway across the street, kept his eyes fixed on the club’s entrance, and waited.
    He was kicked awake by a night watchman carrying a lantern in one hand and a cudgel in the other, who demanded to know his business and was prepared to dispense his particular form of justice if Tam did not give a good account of himself. Tam explained he was waiting for a gentleman who was in the building across the street and added for good measure that he had a most important message to give him. The doorman had refused him entry and told him to wait outside. At this the night watchman let out a great peal of laughter and nudged Tam with his cudgel, but did so in a friendly fashion.
    “Yer young fool! A’course he ain’t goin’ to let in the likes of you! Not less you got six guineas.” This made him laugh harder.
    “I don’t understand,” said Tam politely, scampering to his feet and adding ‘sir’ for good measure because he was wary of night watchmen’s cudgels.
    The man wiped dry his eyes with the back of a grimy hand and shook his head. He pointed his cudgel at the building, its entrance now illuminated with flambeaux. “That, my lad, is a brothel. A very ’igh class brothel it is, too. Called a fancy name: Turkish Bath. That’s what.”
    “Turkish Bath,” repeated Tam.
    “That’s right. Six guineas’ll get yer supper, a bathe in them Turkish baths, and a ’igh class ’arlot,” the night watchman said knowledgeably, although he had never been inside such an establishment and never would. “Now, m’lad, yer best be pushin’ along. Can’t stand out ’ere all night and I got me duties to do. Take yer message round his ’ouse and give it to the porter.”
    “I-I can’t. I was told to deliver it here.”
    “How d’yer know ’e’s still in there? You’ve been asleep.”
    Tam’s shoulders slumped. The man peered keenly at him, holding high his lantern. The boy looked genuinely unhappy and he noticed he was wearing livery so his story was probably true. He pocketed the cudgel. “This message. It ain’t from ’is missus, is it?”
    Tam shook his head.
    The night watchman rubbed his stubbled chin.
    “What’s ’e look like, this gentleman?”
    Tam gave the man a description of Alec.
    “Tall gent who wears his own ’air?” the night watchman repeated with surprise. “And yer say ’e’s a gentleman? The ’air will give ’im away sure enough. Stay ’ere.”
    He crossed the street to be met at the front steps of the Turkish Bath by one of the doormen. The doorman peered into the blackness across the street as the night watchman spoke to him. The conversation lasted no more than a few minutes and back across the cobbles the night watchman came, his long coat unbuttoned and flapping at his sides. In the light of the lantern Tam saw that he was grinning, though his toothless smile died seeing the concern on Tam’s young face.
    “Closed mouthed lot, them over there,” he confided, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Won’t say yes and won’t say no. But I managed to get ’em to tell me a thing or two.”
    “He’s gone?”
    “No need to fret yerself, lad. ’E’s there all right, ’cause a gentleman fittin’ your description entered the premises with three havey-cavey lookin’ coves ’e said were ’is particular friends. A’course it ain’t an establishment for low-life and so says the doormen to your gentleman. But they soon changed their minds when ’e threw down five and twenty pounds. Opened the door as wide as yer pleased for him and his friends then, didn’t they!” He chuckled to himself. “And I’ll tell yer some’in’ else for naught, lad. ’is friends are ’aving a right time of it, eatin’ ’til they’re fit to burst, splashin’ away in them Turkish baths and enjoyin’ the particular attentions of the three prettiest whores this side of Paris!”
    Tam felt his face grow hot and moved out of the light. “Thank you for your help, sir.”
    The night watchman peered at him closely and had a twinge of remorse recounting the carryings on in a brothel to a well-spoken young lad who obviously came from one of the big houses in Westminster. “You’d best get ’ome to yer bed. There’s no point you waitin’ cause by what ’im over there tells me, your gentleman is sittin’ in a corner drinkin’ ’is self into a right stupor. Not interested in supper, or them baths and when a sweet-mouthed whore tried to interest ’im he fairly growled at her. Waste of good guineas if yer ask me!”
    “Thank you, sir. But I must wait. He—he’ll need my help to get home, if he’s as drunk as you say…”
    The night watchman considered him with an open look. The boy stared back at him though he shuffled nervously from foot to foot.
    “’ere,” he said and offered Tam the apple from his coat pocket. “I’ll be on me rounds then. Remember: keep yer wits about yer. It ain’t safe in these parts for a lad.” And with that piece of advice he went on his way, cudgel in hand, lantern held up high.

    Alec sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, dragging the coverlet with him. Bent over, elbows on his knees and with his face in his hands, he felt weak and empty. His mouth was tinder dry. He wanted fresh air but knew his legs would not carry him to the windows.
    Through his fingers he saw a porcelain bowl being thrust at him and he shook his head. “Take it away. I don’t need it,” he said thickly. “Open the windows.” He felt the growth on his face and grimaced. He waited for the first blast of cold air before he attempted to sit up straight, his hand gripping the edge of the mattress for support. He pulled the tangle of hair out of his eyes and squinted into the early morning light that flooded the bedchamber.
    The room was in total disarray. Clothes littered the floor. Newssheets, rolled parchments and several books had fallen off a side table and onto the carpet. A chair was overturned. There was an assortment of bottles and dishes on the bureau, all new to him. Amongst their number were a mortar and pestle and jars of un-identifiable liquids. The room smelled of stale air and medicinals.
    Mercifully, the chamber pot was empty. He remembered he had thrown up into it once. Later, a basin was used for the same purpose. He was forced to drink lemon water, and then a glass of syrupy liquid was pressed to his lips. When he had drunk it all he collapsed exhausted amongst the pillows and was allowed to sleep. The way he felt, he wasn’t sure if he had slept for five hours or five days.
    “John. Help me to stand,” he muttered. Instead of his poker-faced valet, a freckle-faced youth who looked vaguely familiar came to his aid. He frowned. “Where’s John?”
    “You dismissed him, sir,” Tam answered levelly, though his heart was knocking against his ribs.
    “When?”
    “Night before last, sir.”
    “Did I?”
    “Yes, sir. I wouldn’t fret over it. He was glad to be gone. Packed his bag and was off within the hour. Give me your arm, sir, and I’ll help you up. He looked right grateful, too. You should’ve seen his face when you came home.”
    “I’m sure I did but I don’t remember it particularly,” Alec murmured.
    “No, sir. I expect you don’t. Sit down here and I’ll see to your bath.”
    Tam sat Alec in a wing chair by the window and without permission pulled down the sash. He then scurried away before he could be asked further questions and returned carrying one of Alec’s brightly colored silk banyans. He placed this about the man’s shoulders and began tidying the room. He felt Alec staring at him and knew he was remembered. “I’ll have everything straightened out in a trice. I didn’t do it before because I didn’t want to disturb you. But you slept so long I was beginning to worry I’d given you too much medicinal—”
    “What are you doing here, Tam?”
    “Me, sir?”
    “Don’t be obtuse. I haven’t the strength or inclination for banter.”
    Tam collected up the parchments and stacked these and the books and newssheets in a neat pile on the table before turning to face Alec. “Sorry, sir. I guess I’m nervous. I don’t want you to tell me to leave. I’ve left St. Neots House and I’m not going back!”
    “Did something happen?”
    “No, sir.” He lowered his eyes. “That is, not to me…”
    “I see,” Alec finally answered. “What do you want?”
    “To be your valet, sir,” Tam said in a rush. “I have a letter of introduction. I’ll do a good job. I’ll work hard. You won’t have to tell me twice. I’ll be better than that surly creature you had before. I don’t know where everything is yet, but it won’t take me long to sort through—”
    “Tam. Have you ever been a gentleman’s valet?”
    “No. But—”
    “It’s not just a matter of shining boots and tying up hair.”
    “I know that, sir. But—”
    “I frequently travel abroad.”
    “I want to travel—to see other places!”
    “I have two hounds. They travel with me. You’d be expected to care for them, too.”
    “I love animals; dogs especially. And they like me. Yours do. I had them sleep with me in the dressing room so they wouldn’t disturb you. They didn’t mind a bit. I know their names too. Cromwell and Marzipan—”
    “Marziran,” Alec corrected with a sigh. He heard water being poured into his hip bath. “John was the best valet I ever employed.”
    “But he didn’t care for Cromwell and Marz—Marziran, did he, sir?” Tam asked eagerly, following Alec through to the dressing room. “Did he, sir?”
    “No, he did not,” said Alec, smiling at the imploring note in the boy’s voice. “You will excuse me if I don’t ask you to share my bath.”
    He was left to soap and soak in peace. The water was deliciously hot and mildly scented. An extra pail was at the side of the tub with several folded towels and a fresh banyan. He listened to Tam in the next room, pulling out drawers, scraping them closed, banging doors on the Tallboy, and quietly cursing when an object crashed to the polished wooden floor. It was a far cry from the soft-footed John, who crept about at his tasks, never spoke out of turn and was precise to a hair in his appearance. And a complete bore, thought Alec. Having Tam about would never be boring, possibly disconcerting at times, and definitely not tranquil, but never boring. Yet, he knew nothing about him, except he was a footman at St. Neots House who said he had a letter of introduction. For him? From whom, he wondered. He also wondered what his godmother would have to say about a runaway footman becoming his valet. But he did not want to think about his godmother, or St. Neots House, or Emily or…
    He toweled himself dry and slipped on the banyan. He was drying his hair when Tam gingerly came into the room. Alec took a good look at him. He was dirty and crumpled from head to foot, and there were dark rings under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Something would have to be done about his clothes.
    “I’ve laid out just a shirt and breeches and stockings on account of I don’t know what your preference is in a waistcoat and frock,” said Tam cheerfully. “And I’ve had a fire made in both rooms. And Mr. Wantage came to see about breakfast, sir. And your—”
    “Thank you, Tam. Before I dress I think I ought to shave, don’t you? Then when I am presentable, you and I are going to have a talk.”
    “Yes, sir,” Tam replied in a much subdued voice, and remained silent while his master shaved and was dressed.
    His hair plaited and tied with a black silk ribbon, Alec had Tam sit in the window seat and turned his dressing table stool to face him. “Firstly, I must apologize for being such a handful. Believe me, you saw the worst side of m—”
    “Sir, I—”
    “Please. Let me finish. I have no idea how you came to my front door, but I am deeply grateful you did.”
    Tam looked to the floor. “If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, it seemed to me you were a fair way to drinking yourself into oblivion.”
    “Yes. What was in that foul brew you forced down my throat?”
    “A mixture of things,” Tam answered evasively. “Just enough of this and that to make certain you threw up everything you’d drunk. And then I gave you a dose of laudanum to help you sleep. That’s all.”
    “I see. When you put it like that, it wasn’t much at all, was it?”
    Tam couldn’t help a smile.
    “Where did you learn to mix ‘this and er that’?”
    Tam frowned. “I was an apothecary’s apprentice before I became a footman at St. Neots House.”
    “For how long?”
    “Going on for six years, sir.” He looked pleadingly at Alec. “There was some trouble. Not with me. Mr. Dobbs, my master, he got into trouble with the law and we had to close up shop. I tell you, sir, Mr. Dobbs was a good master. He didn’t do half the things they said he did!”
    “You couldn’t find employment with another apothecary?”
    Tam shook his head. “No one would have me after Mr. Dobbs’s name was blackened. That is, no honest man would. And I didn’t want to work for the other kind.”
    “How did you come to be a footman at St. Neots House?”
    “The letter of introduction, sir,” Tam answered simply. “It’s old and worn and written before my time with Mr. Dobbs, but Mrs. Hendy said if ever I got into any bother I was to use it. It’s addressed to you, sir.”
    Alec blinked. “Why?”
    Tam colored painfully. “Mrs. Hendy said if there ever was a person who’d help me out of a scrape it was you, sir. So after what happened to Mr. Dobbs I went to the direction written on the envelope, but that was your old lodgings. The landlord couldn’t or wouldn’t help me. Can’t say I blame him, sir. I was in a right state. But one of the lodgers, who said he was a friend of yours, took pity on me and sent me to St. Neots House. The letter of introduction got me in the door. Shall I get the letter for you, sir?” he asked eagerly.
    “In a moment. This—Mrs. Hendy… Should I know her?”
    “She was sister to Mr. Dobbs’s wife who died, sir. And she was housekeeper at Delvin when your father was Earl. I was born on the estate—”
    “At Delvin?” Alec interrupted, more confused than ever. He had spent so little time at the ancestral pile in Kent that he was surprised anyone there would know him least of all care to write him a letter of introduction. “Mrs. Hendy should’ve directed the letter to my brother. He is the present Earl.” But as soon as he voiced this private thought he realized his mistake for the boy’s lip began to tremble and the light of expectation in the green eyes was instantly extinguished. Alec smiled reassuringly. “I only meant, as head of the family, Lord Delvin is the one usually applied to by family retainers.”
    Tam was not greatly appeased. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” he said sulkily, “but Mrs. Hendy don’t put much faith in his lordship doing right by those under his care.”
    Alec raised his eyebrows at this but refrained from comment, saying as he turned back to face the orderly dressing table, “After breakfast you’d best show me Mrs. Hendy’s letter and we’ll talk some more.”
    Tam beamed. “Thank you, sir. Shall I finish tidying then, sir?”
    Alec frowned at his reflection and then looked beyond at Tam scrambling to gather up clothes from the floor. “Tam… I have a vague memory of being escorted home by the watch.”
    “Yes, sir,” Tam answered cheerfully. “Two of ’em brought you home in a wagon.”
    “Was anyone with me?”
    “Yes, sir. Those three—um—men from the Rose. But Mr. Halsey got rid of ’em quick.”
    “My uncle was here?”
    Tam nodded as he straightened, arms full of washing, and was about to add that the old man was still in residence when there was a sharp tap on the door and the said gentleman strode in without invitation. The old man had eyes only for his nephew.
    “You’re up then,” Plantagenet Halsey stated gruffly, though a weight seemed to lift from his thin shoulders. “’bout time. Wantage has breakfast on the table. You need to put somethin’ back into that stomach of yours.” He turned his attention to Tam and stared him up and down. “You’re filthy. You want a bath. Good for the soul; good for the spirit.”
    “Uncle, this is Ta—”
    “I know who he is. Found him curled up on your doorstep. Thomas and I have had a good long talk. Tells me he’s from Delvin. Strange how life takes quirky turns. Knew some Fishers there when I was a lad growin’ up on the estate. Blacksmiths. All red-haired like this lad. He also tells me he was apprenticed to an apothecary. Wouldn’t have believed it except I saw him muckin’ about with all sorts of potions and such. He’s a good lad, but he’s filthy.”
    Tam shuffled his feet and hid a smile at such praise behind the bundle of washing. The smile spread into a look of amazement at Alec’s next words. The butler had slid into the room and announced his presence with a slight clearing of the throat. He wasn’t given the opportunity to speak.
    “Wantage? Good. Have someone fetch my tailor and my bootmaker. Yes, now. I want half a dozen shirts and the same of breeches for my valet. He can measure for two frocks.” Alec looked at Tam thoughtfully. “I think one pair of jockeyboots and two pair of shoes will suffice for now. Until then, Tam, you’d best dig out something from my wardrobe to make do. That’s after you’ve bathed. See to it, Wantage, will you?”
     
    Alone together in the breakfast room uncle and nephew were at pains to avoid the topic uppermost in their thoughts. Thus conversation was somewhat halting and strained, serving only to underline the uncle’s deep concern and the nephew’s great reluctance to talk about the events of the previous day. Plantagenet Halsey pretended to concentrate on his food while Alec flipped through a stack of correspondence Wantage had placed before him on a silver tray. He tossed aside a number of invitations and packets and paused over one or two accounts, giving them more attention than they deserved. His uncle watched him closely, knew the moment when he had come across one invitation in particular, and wasn’t surprised when Alec took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and pushed aside his plate, though he had eaten only a roll and a mouthful of egg.
    “You’ve not told me about Paris,” said Plantagenet Halsey.
    “Paris?” Alec shrugged. “There isn’t much to add to the last letter I sent. Bedford did all he could to secure adequate terms for the peace. It’s just a pity he wasn’t permitted to get on with it unencumbered.”
    “You mean without the interference of Bute?”
    “Precisely. If he hadn’t been so keen to secure the Peace at any cost just to serve his political ends, we may have ended up with considerably more than we did. Then again, we did gain our objectives in America and India so I’m not repining.”
    Plantagenet Halsey merely nodded and absently stirred his coffee.
    “What?” Alec smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “At the very least I expected a lecture on the belligerent attitude of Mr. Pitt, if not, for you to fully endorse Bute’s eagerness to reach an agreement with the French. Simon told me you gave them a hell of a time in the House over the introduction of a cider tax.”
    “Aye, I did. Deserved it too. No Englishman is going to stand for it! They don’t seem to realize that. Then again, they don’t care to. Cider tax to pay for a war that gained us next to nothing. Pah! Pack of self-servers. Alec! We need to talk—”
    “More coffee, Uncle?” Alec interrupted. “I thought we might go to the club after dinner. I’d go earlier but I have this mountain of correspondence to work through. And I suppose I should begin writing up my final report for the department. Not that that will take up too much of my time. Tauton never reads them. He gives all his reports to a junior clerk to pour over and file as he sees fit. The man is a waste of space. A prime example of why the present system of sinecures and patronage just doesn’t work.”
    If he hoped to draw his uncle into a discussion on one of his pet hates Alec failed to do so because Plantagenet Halsey wasn’t to be diverted. He was only half-listening, his pale eyes surveying his nephew with a look something akin to sadness. It was enough to make Alec turn away and look out the window.
    “The Duchess of Romney-St. Neots was at Ranelagh Gardens the other night,” said the old man in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “Went there in the company of that prim and proper daughter of hers—forget her name—and that bore of a son-in-law. Poor woman must’ve had a dreadful time of it. They saw you there…”
    “Made it to Ranelagh, did I? I’ve no recollection.”
    “Seems you were with a party of—er—highly spirited individuals.”
    “Whores and pickpockets,” Alec said flatly. “There’s no need to be coy.”
    “You made a bit of an exhibition of yourself givin’ one of those whores a diamond bracelet.”
    “I hope she was pretty enough to deserve it. If she has any sense she’ll sell the damned thing and retire on the proceeds!”
    “Alec—”
    “What does it matter? What does any of it matter now? So Olivia saw me making a fool of myself? Saw me in company with a pack of low-life. Rather an anti-climax I should think after the exhibition I made of myself at St. Neots House. She must be thanking the Gods her granddaughter chose the other brother. A bonus he comes with an earldom.”
    “Alec—”
    “She’d have avoided any outrage to her sensibilities by simply penning me a civil letter informing me of her granddaughter’s forthcoming nuptials. In fact, there was no need to go to that much trouble. An invitation to the engagement celebrations posted to my Paris lodgings would’ve more than sufficed. If one is to drink oneself into oblivion, Paris is a preferable watering hole.”
    “I wish you’d stop feelin’ so damned sorry for yourself!” the old man exploded. “I thought you had more spirit than that. Of all the stupid, inconsiderate, wasteful things to try and do! You not only scared a few more gray hairs out of that poor woman’s head but you had me sick with worry. And you almost did it too. By God, Alec, I didn’t raise you to see you throw it all away on a girl who has no more sense than to fall for the likes of Delvin!”
    “Obviously Emily is still too young to know her own mind,” Alec stated quietly. “Delvin made it up for her and Olivia stupidly permitted it because she thinks her granddaughter will be happy as Countess of Delvin. She won’t be, will she?” He pretended an interest in his porcelain coffee mug. “Your letters made no mention of Jamison-Lewis’s death…?”
    The old man’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “That’s ’cause he’s barely cold. Happened less than a month back. Accidentally shot himself in the head. Bloody fool.”
    Alec felt his uncle’s questioning gaze upon him. “Forgive me. I’ve been an inconsiderate ass. I didn’t think… I presumed… To come home and find Emily engaged to Delvin… It was a shock.”
    “Believe me, my boy, if I’d known I’d have told you long ago. And you do Olivia St. Neots an injustice. She had no idea Delvin was seriously courting her granddaughter until he asked for her hand in marriage.”
    Alec smiled crookedly. “Then I wonder when and how he discovered I was courting her?”
    The old man’s eyebrows drew together over his long nose.
    “You don’t think it a possibility?” asked Alec with surprise.
    “Possibility? A’course I do! He hasn’t been particularly subtle in his methods in wantin’ to cause you grief. He interfered in your courtship with Selina and tried to have you run out of the Foreign Department on a trumped-up charge, though we can’t prove it, so he’s more than capable of marrying Emily St.-Neots out of spite. Makes it all the more palatable that she is a granddaughter of the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots, and worth thirty thousand pounds.”
    “Is she? With that figure on her head it amazes me Olivia hasn’t had a house full of fortune-hunting suitors to contend with.”
    “Well—er—she told me in confidence.”
    Alec grinned. “Sharing confidences with a Duchess won’t help your republican cause, should it become public knowledge, Uncle. Olivia is about as steeped in aristocratic vanity and privilege as one can get.”
    “Don’t be absurd,” the old man said gruffly. “I’ve been civil to the woman, that’s all. She called on you yesterday, so naturally I invited her to have afternoon tea.”
    “Naturally.”
    Plantagenet Halsey met his nephew’s playful smirk with a characteristic stern expression. “Listen, my boy. The woman has been put through enough over the past week without the need to worry herself sick over the likes of you! Her granddaughter up and gets engaged to Delvin and in the next breath Delvin fights a duel—”
    “Delvin?” Alec interrupted, greatly surprised, “in a duel?”
    “Aye, and he managed to skewer his opponent.”
    Alec blinked at his uncle. “Good Lord! I can’t imagine Delvin risking his own fine neck, least of all in a fight of honor. How utterly unlike him.”
    “Well, Delvin says the fight was forced on him,” Plantagenet Halsey said without conviction. “He says his opponent called him out on account of also being in love with Emily St. Neots. Jealousy. Pah! Delvin can say what he likes, can’t he, when there were no seconds, no witnesses, no attendin’ physician and his opponent’s dead. The newssheets have been full of nothin’ else for a week and with Emily St. Neots squarely at the center of a duel between two peers of the realm, you can imagine how the Duchess is feelin’ at present.”
    Alec’s brow furrowed. “If the encounter is as you say, then it was hardly an affair of honor, was it?”
    The old man put up his brows. “Just as you say, m’boy.”
    “Delvin’s opponent?”
    “Lord Belsay.”
    Alec half rose out of his chair. “Belsay? Jack Belsay?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Jack’s dead?”
    The old man nodded and watched his nephew go to the window. “Her Grace said you knew Belsay.”
    Alec leaned a shoulder against the wall and stared out at the lush sweep of the Green Park. “Quite well. Not of late. We were at Harrow together. When I went into the Foreign Department we lost contact. He did write occasionally, but he was a shockingly lax correspondent. He and Sel—Mrs. Jamison-Lewis are first cousins. Lord! I can’t believe the poor fellow is dead.”
    The old man joined his nephew at the window. “Alec. Somethin’ don’t smell right about the whole business.”
    “I agree. The Jack I remember was never one to cast caution to the winds. He certainly wouldn’t do anything so outrageous as fight a duel. Certainly not without the proper formalities. He was a stickler for that sort of thing. Besides, he was a very mellow soul. He carried a sword for protection but I can’t imagine him using it. As for forcing a fight on Delvin over Emily…? Yes, Wantage?” Alec asked as the butler trod quietly into the room.
    “Excuse me, sir. There is a lady to see you. She wouldn’t give her name.”
    Alec’s jaw set hard. “You must be mistaken.”
    “No, sir.”
    Uncle and nephew looked at one another. The butler saw it as a sign to continue.
    “I showed her the salon, sir. She said it is most urgent.”
    Plantagenet Halsey patted his nephew’s arm. “I’ve got some business of my own in the city; I’ll meet you at the club after y’dinner. And mind you eat it!”
     
    Alec was still smiling at his uncle’s concerned pronouncement that he eat his dinner—just as he was used to doing when Alec was a boy—when Wantage announced him to the visitor.
    It was indeed a lady, but not one but two and both dressed in deep mourning. The sight of them brought Alec up short. Gloves covered their hands and black netting concealed their faces. Agitation and distress showed in the mannerisms of the shorter woman. She could not be still. She kept clenching and unclenching her fingers in the folds of her petticoats. It was not until the taller one touched her arm and said a quiet word that Alec was noticed standing alone by the door. The shorter lady then carefully lifted her veil. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
    Alec had no idea who she was.
    “I don’t suppose you remember me, Mr. Halsey?” the lady said in a clipped voice.
    Alec came away from the door, none the wiser. On closer inspection, the woman was much older than she first appeared. Possibly she was in her late fifties. Although she looked fragile, her voice was strong and held a note of bitterness. He glanced at her companion who had not yet lifted her veil and before he could reply was interrupted.
    “I know I should have sent my card, or at the very least asked you to call on me at Cavendish Square. But the less gossip there is the better. That’s why I came to you. Quite frankly I can’t bear another day in that house!” She shuddered. “Solicitous relatives can be so overbearing. Except for my dear niece,” she said with a teary smile and touched the other lady’s sleeve affectionately, “who has been such a-a rock.”
    “Won’t you both sit down?” Alec asked. “Would you care for a dish of tea?”
    “Tea?” she said in a broken voice. “No. Something stronger for both of us, if we may.”
    When Alec came back into the salon carrying a decanter and glasses fetched from the library across the passageway, he found his guests seated on the striped sofa central to the room. He went about the business of pouring out a generous drop of brandy for both ladies with deliberate slowness because, out of the corner of an eye, he saw that the lady who had spoken to him was being comforted by her niece. He handed both a glass, checking himself for the briefest of moments when he realized the niece, now unveiled to reveal her pale oval face and mop of tight apricot-colored curls, was none other than Selina Jamison-Lewis. She looked up at him but he ignored her saying to her aunt,
    “Tell me how I may help you, my lady.”
    “I hope you may, my boy,” was the fierce reply. “But where are my manners? I can tell you haven’t the faintest idea who I am, or what we are doing dressed in this atrocious color. Mourning is such a dull affair.”
    “I must confess I didn’t know you when I first came into the room,” he said gently. “But Jack had a great look of you. I will miss him, though we were not close after school. More my fault than his. I seem to spend a great deal of my time traveling. A circumstance which doesn’t do much for one’s social life. I suppose being a diplomatist has its advantages. New faces and a chance to taste the local fare are but two, though such things tend to lose their appeal after the third posting.”
    He was prattling on in his calm measured voice because the Lady Margaret Belsay was once again sobbing into her handkerchief, and he thought it best to let her do so without interference. She seemed in need of a good cry and perhaps confined to her house, surrounded by a dozen cloying relatives, she hadn’t the opportunity to indulge herself. He handed her his clean white handkerchief and watched as Selina put a comforting arm about her aunt. But when she again tried to engage his eye he turned away to refill Lady Margaret’s glass.
    “Thank you,” Lady Margaret said after wiping her eyes and sitting up straight. “Thank you for not fawning over me and for giving me a good drink. My daughters are all fools. If I ask for brandy, they immediately think I’ve turned to drink. If I don’t feel like coming down to dinner they jump to the conclusion I am trying to starve myself.” She heaved a shattering breath and blew her nose. “I just wish they would all go away and leave me to my grief!”
    “They obviously care a great deal about you, though perhaps they are a little unthinking. Possibly a circumstance of their own grief?”
    Lady Margaret glanced at him slyly. “You are good with words, Mr. Halsey. Though, I don’t think you insincere. That brother of yours is also very smooth spoken. Yet, he is totally insincere in word and deed. I knew so from the first, but Jack—Jack was thoroughly taken in by him. I tried to warn him. What grown son heeds the warnings of a parent, especially his mother? To Jack, Delvin was as he appeared: charming, friendly, a trusty Trojan. Every mamma with an eligible daughter wanted Delvin as a son-in-law. Jack was impressed by it all. He failed to see beneath the shining facade until it was too late.”
    “Jack had just as much to recommend him, my lady,” Alec said with a smile. “I should think many mammas coveted Viscount Belsay for their daughters. And he was not unhandsome, and to my memory, there was considerable wit in his talk. Not a bore by any means. Far from it.”
    Lady Margaret reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, my boy. It’s true. Jack was all those things and more. He was—He was extremely shy in female company. It came as a surprise to me, too. The boy grew up with six sisters who adored him, and yet he became the most awkward creature when forced to make small talk with a female. So you see why Jack was taken with Delvin the consummate philanderer. Oh, he gives the impression of being one but one always doubts men who constantly flaunt their virility. Nonetheless, whatever Delvin’s ability with females, he made an indelible mark on my son.”
    “I imagine then that Jack became Delvin’s shadow at such functions where he found it necessary to engage in small talk with eligible girls?”
    “Precisely!”
    “Poor Jack. He must have dreaded coming-out parties.”
    Lady Margaret gave the crystal tumbler to her niece and smoothed out her petticoats, weighing her next words carefully and yet eager to confide. “The newssheets say my son fought a duel with Delvin over Emily St. Neots. The gossips have fueled this claim with whispered recollections of my son and Delvin’s pursuit of the girl. No one can deny my son was seen often in her company, but then so was Delvin. Society wants to believe a rivalry existed between them. It makes for a romantic tale. I shall let them continue to believe so for the time being.”
    Alec frowned. “You do not set much store in the validity of such a story, my lady?”
    Lady Margaret gave a snort. “It’s absolute rot! There’s not an ounce of truth in it. It’s absurd to think my son—a Belsay—would seriously consider marriage with the likes of Emily St. Neots. I’ll lay odds he didn’t even flirt with the girl. He was probably comfortable in her company because Delvin was pursuing her and so spent a moment or two longer in conversation with her than was acceptable, thus giving the gossips something to grasp at. But marriage? Never! Jack would never have sullied the family name so. He was a Belsay first and foremost. He knew what was due his name. He wasn’t about to ally himself with bastard blood.”
    “Aunt, please,” Selina Jamison-Lewis said in a strident whisper. “You shouldn’t say—”
    Lady Margaret glared at her niece wondering why the young woman’s face had fired up red at the mention of Emily St. Neots. “Don’t be a goose, Selina! I can and I will speak about Emily St. Neots’ unfortunate parentage. For anyone to suggest Jack would entertain the idea of marrying the base born granddaughter of a Duchess is absolute nonsense!”
    “Aunt, I wasn’t suggesting—”
    “Leaving aside her unfortunate paternity for the moment,” Alec said, cutting-off Selina. “You do not think it at all likely Jack may have become infatuated with Miss St. Neots in the course of Delvin’s courtship of her?” he asked quietly, attention seemingly fixed on the silver buckle of his right shoe. “After all, you say Jack was shy in the company of females and yet he was comfortable in hers. And Miss St. Neots is not—er—unattractive.”
    “Where are your eyes, young man? Emily St. Neots is a beauty: gray eyed and yellow haired. She has her mother’s delicate features and there is a certain bearing about her person, not unlike Olivia. But I know my son was not so infatuated, and not so insanely jealous of Delvin, as to want to fight a duel for her.” She shuddered. “As for marriage? Never.”
    “Yet,” Alec said with a dry throat, “Delvin is about to wed her?”
    “I know. It’s a disgrace. That’s Delvin’s affair. It only goes to prove what a mercenary snake he really is. Although I don’t approve of the girl, I am not insensitive to her plight. I am amazed Olivia permitted it.” Lady Margaret shrugged. “No doubt she is more than happy to have Delvin. It will make her granddaughter a Countess. It’s vastly more than she can have hoped for when she foolishly decided to bring up the bastard offspring of her disgraced daughter’s affair with a stable hand!”
    Alec was puzzled. “My lady, many people consider my brother to be a gentleman of character and bearing. Nor have I heard he has done anything to give society a disgust of him. Is he not one of the favored sons?”
    “Your constraint is to be commended, Mr. Halsey,” said Lady Margaret with a sad smile. “But it does not excuse the deplorable neglect you suffered at the hands of your father and brother.” She saw him glance at Selina and added, “Oh, you needn’t worry that I have discussed your circumstances with anyone except your mother. She and I were close friends and it was she who confided in me, just before her death…”
    “You were more fortunate than I, madam,” Alec said flatly, a heightened color to his cheeks and his tone indication enough he had no wish to discuss the Countess of Delvin. “You have not told me how I may help you.”
    “I am at a loss to understand how you can be so insensitive to your circumstances,” Lady Margaret continued, not to be diverted. “It was never my intention to break a promise I made to your mother many years ago, but after what her monster of a son did to my poor boy, my conscience is clear. Are you not outraged by what was done to you?”
    Alec put up a hand then dropped it. It was a gesture of resignation. “Lady Margaret, I don’t pretend to understand my parents’ actions. To try and do so would surely send me mad. Nor can I blame Delvin. No one would be the wiser except my mother decided she needed to clear her conscience before she died. Her confession answered a good many questions about my upbringing. It can only have made my brother miserable—”
    “—and what he is today,” Lady Margaret said with finality, finishing the sentence for him and Alec made no protest with her presumption. She stood up and Selina did likewise. She needed to walk. There was stiffness in her knees and they ached. “I came to ask a favor of you, Mr. Halsey,” she said in an unsteady voice. “I was your mother’s closest friend, and you and Jack were close at Harrow. Now my son—my only son—is dead. I want you to find out why Delvin saw fit to murder my blameless boy.”
    Alec looked at her sharply.
    “Don’t look at me as if I’m having a mental collapse! My son’s death has devastated me, but I’m not about to be committed to Bedlam. I am made of stronger stuff. And I intend to remain strong because I am determined to see that monster strung up at Tyburn for his foul act!”
    “There is no love lost between my brother and I. To be quite frank, I despise him, but you are asking too much of me to believe him capable of murder; the murder of one of his closest friends at that.”
    Lady Margaret made movements to leave. She stuffed Alec’s crumpled handkerchief into her reticule and shook out her petticoats. “Think on it, Mr. Halsey. It isn’t as far-fetched as you suppose. Come, Selina.”
    “If it is as you say, then what proof have you?” Alec asked gently. “That Jack did not survive his injuries is hardly cause to brand his opponent a murderer, my lady. Duels often result in death. If Jack had survived…”
    “Delvin made certain my son would not live,” Lady Margaret stated.
    Alec’s blue eyes widened in disbelief. “My lady, I don’t see how—”
    “Mr. Halsey, Jack’s body was covered in multiple wounds,” Selina interrupted, leaping to her aunt’s defense. She’d had enough of sitting silently by while her grief stricken aunt was treated with condescension; however much the Lady Margaret wished that she remain a silent partner to the interview. “It is the physician’s opinion that these wounds were inflicted, not in the coolness of an orchestrated duel where one elegant thrust of a rapier brings an encounter to a close, honor satisfied, but in a frenzied attack guaranteed to ensure my cousin did not live through the encounter. I believe that gives my aunt right to brand Delvin a murderer.”
    Alec finally met Selina’s gaze. “And if I discover that in truth Jack was in love with Emily St. Neots?”
    “We wouldn’t have come here today if we thought there was a grain of truth in what the newssheets say!” Lady Margaret said with contempt. She let down her veil and Alec opened the door for both ladies to go out of the room before him. “Mr. Halsey, my son was murdered; Selina and I know this as truth. I want you to find out why. I want to be able to sleep at night knowing my son did not lose his life over the bastard offspring of a fallen duchess and a-a stable hand! Jack was a nobleman, Mr. Halsey, not an adventurer.”
     
    Alec was left alone with his thoughts, Wantage showing the ladies to the front door. But it was not many moments before the butler returned to the salon with Selina Jamison-Lewis in tow. He waited to be noticed by his master, who continued to scowl at the carpet, arms folded across his chest and sitting on the edge of a sofa back. But as he appeared deep in thought Wantage cleared his throat loudly and said, “Excuse me, sir, but Mrs. Jamison-Lewis has misplaced her reticule,” and stepped aside to allow the lady access to the room.
    Alec looked about sharply and immediately felt his face grow hot. He had been thinking over Lady Margaret’s startling accusation of murder against his brother when uninvited thoughts of Selina had intruded into these musings: The blackness of mourning suited her. She appeared almost ethereal with her skin so blinding white against the depths of black crepe. But had her eyes always been so dark or perhaps mourning black made them appear so? She attributed her unusually dark eyes to a Spanish ancestor, one Mauricio Del Medico, physician to Philippe of Spain who had settled in England when his master married Queen Mary. Dark eyes that regarded him as if he had something to answer for when it was she who had accepted an arranged marriage with Jamison-Lewis rather than defy her parents’ wishes and run away with him to be married in Scotland. God, he wished he’d never bumped into her on the stair at St. Neots House! In fact, he wished he’d not gone there at all. He’d made a damned fool of himself. As for his drunken behavior afterwards, he wished he could remember the half of it…
    “I would like a word in private, Mr. Halsey,” Selina stated in her clear strong voice, regaining possession of her reticule that she had conveniently stuffed behind a sofa cushion. She watched Alec nod to the butler, who reluctantly took himself off, and waited for the door to be closed on the lingering servant’s back. She took a breath, slightly disconcerted by Alec’s blank look. “I want to reassure you that my aunt’s grief has not clouded her judgment. She has every right to think Jack was murdered, and that the duel had little to do with Emily St. Neots.”
    “Why do you think they fought a duel, Madam?”
    “I?” asked Selina, slightly taken aback by his bluntness. She chose her words carefully. “It was not in Jack’s nature to fight a friend, particularly not over a woman. If Emily was the cause of the duel, it was at Delvin’s instigation. Although, it is my belief Emily is being used as the excuse to cover a more sinister intent. As to that, I have not the slightest idea.”
    “I’m sorry about Jack. He was a good fellow.”
    Selina nodded, a curious lump in her throat. She wanted to cry, instead she kept tight reign on her emotions and said dully, “Yes. He is greatly missed.”
    “A double blow for you?”
    Selina mentally winced. “Jack’s death has given purpose to my mourning, Mr. Halsey,” she stated flatly. “Please excuse me. My aunt must not be kept waiting.”
    “You think my brother capable of murder, Mrs. Jamison-Lewis?”
    This time Selina visibly cringed. She hated the way he emphasized her married name with a sneer. It made her give an unguarded response. “Yes. Delvin is a thief, a liar and a cheat, so why not a murderer?”
    “Such harsh words, Madam. And for a gentleman who was great friends with your late husband.”
    “Then you must allow me to be the better judge of his character,” she answered frankly and started for the door.
    Alec put himself between her and the door. “Yet, you have lent your support to this marriage between Delvin and Miss St. Neots?”
    Anger fired Selina’s dark eyes. “You presume too much, Mr. Halsey. I did not visit St. Neots House that day to offer up my congratulations!”
    “Then you will speak to her about Delvin?” he asked eagerly. “Try and dissuade her from the match?”
    Selina shook her head, anger giving way to sadness. Here was proof that he did indeed love Emily St. Neots. At the mention of Emily his handsome angular face lost its harsh lines, his mouth softened, and a light came into his deep blue eyes, eyes that had once looked on her lovingly and now regarded her with little more than contempt. She had trained herself not to think of the past. Six years had come and gone; too long to sustain hope and long enough for him to fall in love with someone else. She should not have been at all surprised. Yet, the unexpected death of Jamison-Lewis had sparked a glimmer of hope, and her encounter with Alec on the stairs of St. Neots House had renewed a physical ache she had long suppressed. And now, looking up at him, his eyes full of expectation, even this small sliver of hope was silently extinguished. She felt foolish and utterly wretched.
    “Please open the door, Mr. Halsey,” she stated, eyes leveled at the engraved buttons of his flowered waistcoat.
    “You must speak to her!”
    “No. That is impossible,” she answered, a gloved hand outstretched for the brass doorknob.
    He caught at her hand and brought her closer to him, the crush of her many layered petticoats the only barrier between them. “Why? Why is it not possible?” he demanded. “Miss St. Neots will listen to you.”
    “No. She will not listen to anyone,” Selina answered flatly, although the nearness of him was fast suffocating her senses. “Please. Let me go.”
    “You want to see her married to a man you call a cheat and a liar, whom you and your aunt have accused of murder?” he demanded angrily, head bent over her, a curl of coal-black hair falling into his eyes, his mouth almost brushing her forehead. “You want her to wake up one morning to find herself married to such a man all because you chose unwisely—”
    “How dare you! How dare you feel sorry for yourself at my expense!” Selina enunciated through gritted teeth, and with a mighty shove threw him off so that he staggered backwards and she fell, back up against the door, breathless and seething with anger. “Do you have concern for no one but yourself? If you tried that rough treatment on Emily to get her to change her mind I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she never wishes to set eyes on you again! Lord! You step back into her life after an absence of eight months and expect her to fall into your arms because you wish it?”
    “So you’re in favor of her marriage to Delvin?”
    Selina sighed in exasperation. “What does my endorsement matter?” But when Alec held her gaze, mouth shut hard, she knew he would persist until he had an answer. “No, of course I’m not,” she replied calmly. “He is everything I declared him to be and more. And… He is not in love with her; it could never be a happy union.”
    “Then she must be told. She must be made to see what sort of man she is about to marry!”
    “No.”
    Alec was all haughty incredulity. “No, Madam?”
    “Don’t you understand? Emily does not see the true Delvin because he has not allowed her to see anything but a polished, mannered nobleman of wealth and family. That is the being Emily fell in love with.” When Alec’s brow creased, she smiled wanly. “Emily has fallen in love with your brother. That is why I cannot say a word against him.”
    Alec was incredulous. “She is in love with him? In love with Delvin?” He wiped his mouth as if he had eaten something distasteful.
    “To show your opposition to the match, for me to voice doubts about Delvin, will only strengthen her resolve to marry your brother.”
    Alec looked away to the draped window seat with its view of the inner courtyard of St. James’s Place, but not before Selina saw the abject hurt in his face. It made her feel hollow inside. After a moment he opened the door and spoke as if addressing a stranger, “Thank you for your advice, Madam. I appreciate that you offer it in the spirit of wanting what is best for Emily.”
    “Indeed, Mr. Halsey,” Selina replied flatly, yet her dark eyes were wet and bright. “There is nothing more soul destroying than having one’s hopes and dreams shattered by the one you love.”

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