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

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Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) Page 27

by Lucinda Brant


  “Not unless it is of your own makin’!”

  The Earl sneered. “How well you know me.”

  “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! If—you—please!” Lord Gervais bellowed. “Now, Mr. Halsey, you will tell me your nephew’s whereabouts.”

  “Rot in hell!” exploded the old man and stormed out of the breakfast room, slamming the door.

  In the silence that followed, Sir Cosmo snapped shut his snuffbox, slightly inclined his head to the Earl and ignoring the judge followed Plantagenet Halsey out of the room.

  Lord Justice Gervais stared helplessly at the Earl.

  “I warned you,” Delvin said calmly.

  Lord Gervais loosened his neck cloth with the crook of one finger. He had never been treated with such contempt. He was used to respect, respect for his calling if not for his person, and now anger burst through his embarrassment. “Your uncle is a menace to society! I’ve a mind to lock him up!”

  The Earl sighed. “Incarcerating an old man don’t solve the problem at hand.”

  “The accusation will stick. You’ll see.”

  “Will it?” The Earl looked skeptical and leisurely dipped a finger into his snuffbox. “You should’ve arrested Second last night when you had the opportunity.”

  “Without the authority to back up the accusation? Do you take me for a fool, my lord? I must await the arrival of the Bow Street Runners.”

  Delvin snorted a goodly quantity of snuff. “But will they do what you want?”

  “Aye. Men who owe their positions to me. There’ll be no dissent.”

  The Earl beamed. “Splendid! You’ve done this sort of thing before I see.”

  Lord Gervais eyed him with resentment. “And you know it, my lord.”

  The Earl’s smiled widened but the glint in his pale blue eyes was icy. “I’m unlikely to forget a piece of cowardice that has considerably reduced my income.”

  “What would you’ve had me do when that gaming hell was merely a cover for a more sinister intent?”

  Delvin feigned surprise. “Really, Gervais, you had no idea that the rooms above the apothecary’s shop housed a male brothel?”

  “The two floors were leased as a gaming establishment. It was not until information was put before me by a member of the peerage who insisted upon action that I was fully appraised of the real situation.”

  “Liar,” Delvin said very low. “For two years you turned a blind eye to the goings-on of a male brothel and was paid handsomely for such selective blindness. And I was proudly shown the ledger by our wealthy and very perverted mutual acquaintance that implicates you and I both.”

  Gervais looked uncomfortable. “You can’t really have expected me, a respected judge, to ignore Lord Belsay’s information? I’d have faced ruination; as would have you, my lord. Guilt by association. And you know it for you fought a duel with his lordship over that very thing.”

  The Earl looked the pale-faced judge up and down with a sneer. “What would the grandson of a slaughterman know about dueling? Belsay wanted that brothel closed to teach his lover a lesson and because he was smitten with your mealy-mouthed brother-in-law. Do you think I’d have cared a tester had it become public knowledge that my mistress is the kneeling-whore wife of a corrupt judge who puts his hand out for payment from the ill-gotten gains of a male brothel? More fool you.”

  Lord Gervais strode forward, livid with rage. “Have a care, my lord, or I’ll—”

  “What?” taunted the Earl and hopped down off the window sill with a jaunty step. He dusted powder from an embroidered upturned cuff. “I have that ledger now and it’s about time you began paying me for your judicial lapse. And I expect Second to be in custody by dinner time.”

  “Delvin!”

  The Earl stopped in the doorway but said nothing.

  “She—Cynthia may change her story once the laudanum—”

  “She won’t.”

  “It’s been a great shock,” continued the judge meekly, all the fight gone out of him. “He was worthless scum but he was her brother.”

  “Reason enough to want to catch his murderer,” replied the Earl and left Lord Gervais standing alone in the middle of the room where he remained for several seconds, convincing himself that arresting Alec Halsey for murder would serve everyone’s best interests.

  Resolute, he stomped from the room, more than ever determined to carry out his plan of action, and in the corridor bumped into Emily St. Neots. In fact, she bumped into him. She had come in search of the Earl. In the confusion that followed she dropped her straw hat. Lord Gervais scooped it up.

  “Thank you,” she said a little breathlessly. “How careless of me! Have—have you seen Lord Delvin, sir?”

  “He’s in the gardens. You must be more careful, Miss Emily,” he said dully, still holding her hat.

  “Yes, I must,” she answered, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment remembering his behavior in the ballroom the night before. “How is—is Lady Gervais? I heard the dreadful news—”

  “She is resting. It was a great shock. A great shock for all of us.”

  “Yes—yes, it was,” said Emily after a moment’s hesitation because although she did not look up into his eyes she had the uncomfortable sensation of feeling his gaze upon her heaving breasts. “My hat, sir, if you please…”

  At that he shoved the hat at her and would’ve stepped past her, but as such things go she stepped in the same direction and they collided once again. This time he made no attempt to get out of her way but stood close, so close she could smell him, his breath quick and hot on her burning cheek. Feeling trapped, terror seized her and she pushed past him, forcing him to the wall with hurried words of apology as she fled out into the gardens. It was an almost welcome relief to find the Earl alone.

  “My dear! How lovely you look!” Delvin said cheerily and went forward to kiss Emily’s hand. “That gown. Indian muslin, isn’t it? Very fetching!”

  She kept her fingers firmly about the brim of her straw hat. “Thank you. I’m glad I find you alone, Edward.”

  His smile widened. “This is very flattering.” He offered her his arm. Instead she walked ahead of him to the far end of the garden where a knot of gardeners worked in the flower beds at the bottom of the terraced steps. She tied on her bonnet, taking longer than was necessary because she did not know how to begin this interview. She was spared the necessity.

  “My dearest Emily,” he said soothingly as he took her hand in his, “you are looking a little tired. Last night was a great success and yet you appear less than happy? Can it be that you are still haunted by that dreadful ordeal of the other evening? I would not have you so, my dearest. We must put that unpleasantness behind us and think of our future—together.”

  “Sir, it—it is our future together that I wish to discuss.”

  He beamed and kissed her hand. “That’s better! And so we should discuss it. I am eager to. In fact, I am so eager that I have spoken to the Duchess this very morning and have persuaded her to bring the wedding forward—”

  Emily was startled. “Forward? But why?”

  “Can’t you guess?” he purred. “I want you for my own today, now, this instant. Do you not wish it also? Your blush is sufficient answer.”

  Emily withdrew her hand, and breathed deeply. She felt life was moving too fast all of a sudden. And the Earl’s eagerness was not having the desired effect; in fact she felt as if she was no longer in control when all along she believed she was the one to make the decision to marry the Earl. She recalled what Selina had said to her about responsibility and it almost overwhelmed her.

  “My lord! Please. I realize the great honor you do me by wishing to marry me. I know I am the envy of many but…but I have had time to think matters through and I wish I could marry you tomorrow with a clear conscience. I wish I could feel as confident as you do about our marriage. But after all that has happened, after thinking the matter through, I would like more time to consider. It is not that I do not wish to marry you, it’s j
ust that I feel that if we were to have a period apart to reflect—”

  “Come, my dear,” he said with his most understanding smile. “It is not unnatural for you to feel apprehensive. I feel it myself. It is a large step that you and I take, but it is a step I wish to take with you and you alone.”

  “I am flattered, Edward, truly I am, but I need time to—”

  “Consider what a grand couple you and I will make once we are settled!” he interrupted and drew her away from the prying eyes at the library windows. “You shall be denied nothing as Countess of Delvin. Society will take you under its wing!”

  “Please, Edward! Please. I am only asking for six months—”

  “No,” he said and with such finality that Emily’s eyes flew up to his face and in an instant she saw a coldness in those pale blue eyes that sent a shiver through her trembling body. “We will be married at the end of the month.” When she tried to draw away from him he would not let her go and anger got the better of him. “Second put you up to this, did he?”

  Emily swallowed. “No! No! No one has said a word to me!”

  The Earl fought hard to master his anger and forced himself to smile sadly. “My dear, do you think me without a brain? You are too sweet a child. You have been gently bred to do as you are told, what we think is best for you. These harsh words, these doubts, they are not in your nature. How may I set your mind at rest? Have I offended you in any way? My one desire is to make you my wife. I had thought it your only wish too.”

  Emily felt hot tears behind her eyes. “Edward. Edward… is Lady Gervais—Is that creature your mistress?”

  Delvin looked away from her and took out his snuffbox. “My dear, you cheapen yourself by asking such a base question. I shall not answer it.”

  “But I must know!” she demanded, wringing her hands. “She is your mistress, isn’t she? I know because I overheard her and Lord Gervais in the ballroom—”

  He put up his hand. “That is quite enough. I will not discuss that woman with you, now or ever.”

  “No? But you bed her nonetheless?”

  “Listen to me!” he snapped, grabbing her hard by the shoulders and bringing her face close up to his. “My one desire in life is to marry you. It is you I want as my Countess. You are all the things a man can hope for in a wife: beauty, obedience, youth. I will make you a good husband, but the rest of my life is none of your business; nor will you make it your business. I want you to give me sons. I want—”

  Tears streamed down her face. “Please, my lord, you are hurting me.”

  The Earl stared at her blankly, then released her suddenly, realizing he was fast losing control over her. “The weekend has exhausted you. You are not yourself. Upon a week’s reflection you will see that I am in the right. I will speak to her Grace and—”

  Emily shook her head. She pulled her shoulders back and adjusted her straw bonnet. “It is not you, my lord. It’s just that I cannot marry a man who keeps such a woman as a mistress; who fornicates with her at his own engagement party! Is that not what occurred last night? Did you not go off with her into the gardens? Do you know how that makes me feel? To be consumed in such misery—”

  “Misery?” The word was wrenched from him, and with that one word his cool and charming facade was shattered forever in her eyes. “What do you know of misery?” he spat out. “You dare to cast me aside all because I am a man? You, the product of a debase liaison between a whore and a cowhand? You should’ve been well-satisfied had I made you my mistress! As it stands I am considered a laughing stock by my fellows for wanting to ally myself with the likes of you! I shall not turn round now and allow you to make me a buffoon; the butt of every joke in town!”

  Used to receiving only his courtesy she was so startled by the sudden change in him that for a few moments she lost the ability to speak. Her cheeks burned red and she picked up her petticoats in readiness to flee inside to find her grandmother when she caught sight of Sir Cosmo and Plantagenet Halsey coming across the gardens towards them. “I—I am sorry, my lord, but it would be for the best if we—”

  The Earl caught her arm before she could brush past him and pulled her close. “I’ll strike a bargain with you,” he hissed in her ear. “Marry me and I’ll save Second from the hangman’s noose.”

  Emily stared up at him wildly, unable to fathom this new frightening being who resembled the Earl of Delvin in form only. “Hangman’s noose?” she repeated in bewilderment and turned swiftly to face Plantagenet Halsey when he ordered his nephew to let her go. She was so relieved she fell into the old man’s arms, sobbing.

  Sir Cosmo put up his quizzing glass to better view the Earl but it was Plantagenet Halsey who spoke.

  “Your life’s goin’ from bad to worse,” he said in a flat, unapologetic tone. “Nothin’ more pathetic than a man who’s unequal to his birthright.” And walked into the house with a protective arm around Emily’s shoulders, Sir Cosmo two steps behind and the Earl abandoned on the terrace red-faced and seething.

  Alec sat in his shirtsleeves on a large raised gnarled root of an old oak, his long legs stretched out before him and his back up against the massive trunk. He had come to the Grove with his two faithful hounds just as the sun and the servants were rising, and before Tam was awake and had a chance to ask where he was off to. He needed the quiet that only this idyllic spot in the home wood could provide. Last night he had been in two minds whether to read his mother’s letter or burn it unopened. Yet, here in the Grove with the sun filtering through the tree tops onto deep beds of ancient fallen leaves, moss covered tree roots, and the small open space dotted with bluebells, he was confident that whatever secrets the Countess of Delvin had committed to paper the past could not possibly unsettle his future.

  He was wrong.

  With his gold-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his narrow nose he opened the envelope, its seal broken long ago, and removed two pages. The paper was thin, yellowed at the edges and written on one side only. A glance at both and it was obvious that these sheets were the opening pages of two different letters. Both were written in the Countess of Delvin’s feminine fist and both addressed to Lady Margaret Belsay. The top sheet was dated some six years earlier while the second sheet was more yellowed and much older having been written almost sixteen years ago. Alec chose the older letter first and read:

  Dearest Meg (it began)

  Today, I saw him! I was in my carriage in Oxford Street. There was some sort of accident up ahead which forced me to sit and wait for almost half an hour in the heat and noise. Why I decided to come to town in the middle of August I shall never know! Now I wish I never had, and yet part of me is glad that I did, because I saw him. Yes! I can hardly believe it myself and I am sorry if I am keeping you in suspense, but I do like to tease you, don’t I?

  I was staring blankly out of the window (I had stared blankly at the upholstery ten minutes or more wishing I was home and cursing myself for my stupidity) watching the town go about its business when out from a booksellers stepped Plantagenet Halsey, a weight of books tucked under his arm all tied up in brown paper and cord. No doubt a collection of treasonous writings that he favors and I do not understand in the least. We were so close that had I extended my parasol from the window I could have touched him. I did not, of course, do so! I was about to fall back against the seat so that he would not see me when out from behind him stepped a tall young man with a mop of blue-black curls falling into his eyes.

  I did not know him immediately, only that he was handsome in an angular sort of way, with a long nose and a most engaging smile, oh! and the bluest of blue eyes I have ever known a gentleman to possess. In truth, Meg, an Adonis. I know you will laugh at me and think me fallen in love with a pretty face but it is the truth. You will laugh even louder when I tell you that I stared at him quite brazenly, my nose pressed up against the glass. You can imagine then how flustered I was when he stared straight at me. I know I blushed. Me, an old woman put to the blush! And for one agonizing
moment I was transported back to when I was a bride and passionately in love and an adulteress. Seeing this young man, seeing how much he resembles his father… He took my breath away.

  I threw myself against the upholstery. I was shaking! Then, not a moment later, I was at the window again to catch another glimpse of my son, and he had gone. Gone! Gone off arm in arm with Plantagenet Halsey up the street in the opposite direction so that I never did see his face again.

  Meg, it was my son! My son Alec. My first born son whom I was forced to give up at birth as penance for my adultery. I shall never forget his face, the look of him, that smile. He has my eyes, Meg! But, oh, he is his father’s son. He haunts me. Not only at night when I am in my bed alone, but during the day when I am at my needlework, or in the garden, or talking to Mrs. Pringly about how best to bottle my strawberry preserves.

  It is my wretched conscience. I can no longer live with myself, with this secret I have kept so tightly bound about my heart that it threatens to squeeze the life out of me. I must tell someone. I must tell you, though in the telling I risk losing your love and friendship. I pray for your understanding for it is the truth, Meg, as God is my witness. I shall burn in Hell for what I did, for what I permitted Delvin to do. I do not care now. Somehow I must right this wrong. Somehow—

  Alec came up for air, his face lacking all natural color. He had come to the end of the page and he quickly turned the sheet over as if expecting there to be more, yet what he had just read was more than enough to overwhelm him. Over the rims of his spectacles he saw the two greyhounds at the edge of the Grove frolicking in the undergrowth. They had found the burrow of some hapless wood creature. Watching them, Alec unconsciously folded the sheet and slipped it into an inner pocket of his waistcoat before dropping his gaze to the second sheet.

  Dearest Meg (it also began)

  My illness prevents me from writing much at all these days. I do tire so easily and spend the greater part of my day chair-bound and being fussed over by Martha. The pain in my joints is considerable. Nothing gives relief.

 

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