Read Online Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) by Lucinda Brant - Free Book Online

say so,” Alec replied evenly. “Why did Delvin and Belsay cross swords?”
    “I—I don’t know that!” Simon Tremarton blustered, deflated that his dramatic pronouncement had fallen flat. But he shouldn’t have been surprised. Alec Halsey was renowned in Foreign Department circles for playing his cards close to his chest. “Alec, listen: What I do know is that Belsay wasn’t the least interested in a chit from the schoolroom.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I—I know things— certain particulars —about Belsay that proves your brother is lying.”
    Alec put up his black brows. If Simon was trying to put him on edge he was succeeding, but for the wrong reasons. “Such as?”
    “I can’t tell you here!”
    “You know where I live,” was Alec’s flat response as he opened the door and stepped out on the street. He turned his back on the traffic of carriages and sedan chairs and faced Simon. “Whatever it is you do know, Simon, be assured: Delvin must also know it or he wouldn’t be so confident in getting away with the lie.”
    Simon Tremarton’s eyes widened, as if this thought had never occurred to him and, startled, he stumbled backwards, turned and fled up the narrow stairs. Alec walked home, pondering the connection between three men of very different temperament: the mild-mannered, diffident Viscount Belsay; the Earl of Delvin who paraded society as the consummate rakish nobleman; and Simon Tremarton, a self-made functionary of poor family. He was still thinking about these three when he entered No. 1 St. James’s Place and discovered his valet being interrogated by the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots.
     
    Wantage sent Tam to the drawing room with a flick of his finger, giving him no indication of who wished to see him. The butler disliked upheaval in his household and he disapproved of the freckled-face youth. He knew he was a runaway from St. Neots. That much he had ferreted out from the housekeeper, who had it from an upstairs footman, who had overheard a little of the conversation between the master’s uncle and the boy, that first night when he was discovered by the porter on the doorstep. The lad was too familiar, with the master and with the household servants; those above and below him. He needed putting in his place; to have the fear of knowing his station in life put back into him. The master’s previous valet had come with excellent references and had once been a valet for the Marquess of Dartmouth. There had been an air about him that bespoke the perfect gentleman’s gentleman. Wantage had disliked him intensely but had respected his position. He had no such respect for Tam, whom he considered an interloper and lacking the necessary social skills and character to hold the exulted position of valet to the master of the house.
    Sending the boy to the Duchess unawares would give him the jolt he needed, Wantage thought with relish. With a grin he shut the drawing room door and tiptoed around to the servant door to put an ear to the panel.
     
    The Duchess of Romney-St. Neots was the last person Tam expected to see in his new master’s house. Her small stout figure in hooped petticoats of Chinoiserie silk was comfortably seated on a chaise longue, a knitted shawl about her bare shoulders and small feet in their damask covered shoes with high heels and diamond buckles up upon the upholstery. She was reading the morning newssheet and sipping bittersweet chocolate from a fine porcelain dish. Tam’s heart gave an odd leap and he forgot to bow. He wanted to run but his instinct told him to hold fast. Maybe she wouldn’t recognize him? After all, he had only been a lowly under-footman and was hardly ever in the presence of members of her family, least of all her tiny exalted personage. That and the fact he had only been in her employ for six months meant she was unlikely to remember his face, least of all his name.
    She heard the door close over but finished reading the paragraph. “Well,