Midnight Masquerade

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Authors: Joan Smith
Tags: Regency Romance
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impossible. It is tantamount to saying I accuse you of stealing my aunt’s diamond. I don’t know whether you had anything to do with it or not, but after the affair is settled, our engagement will be terminated as noiselessly as possible.”
    “And I will thank you, as quietly or as noisily as you wish.”
    “You are entirely welcome, I promise you.”
    “And we are still left with the riddle of how we ever got engaged in the first place,” he said wearily.
    “The sooner we can solve this case, the sooner we can become unengaged. I mean to speak to Bidwell and see if I can learn anything from him. He and Chamfreys were out of the room at midnight.”
    “Good enough. I’ll speak to Lenore.”
    “I thought you would,” she answered with a sardonic grimace which he mistook for a smile.
    She arose and strode briskly from the room. Belami arose with her, then sat down again, looking after her. The item that caught his interest was her walk. Deirdre didn’t walk like a prude, as one would expect her to. She undulated, her hips weaving from side to side like a real woman. So far as he could tell, the only feminine bones in her body were in her hips.
    Ah, well, it would soon be over. He’d be rid of her, once and for all. Bidwell or some man-milliner like him would marry her. They could undulate together. Bidwell walked like a woman too. Odd that she chose to go and talk to Bidwell. What was there to learn from him? They already knew he was Carswell’s nephew and heir. This was just an excuse for putting herself in his way, now that she had jilted himself. She certainly wasn’t wasting a minute. That at least she shared with other women. She could have waited till they had announced the termination of the engagement.
    With an injured air, he went abovestairs to accost Lady Lenore. Such an errand would normally put him in humor, but there was a scowl on his brow as he bolted up the stairs, two at a time.
     

Chapter 5
     
    Deirdre ran Bidwell to ground in the hallway in front of the ballroom door. He was called handsome by society, though there was an effeminate air in him that made the word hard for her to accept. Pretty came closer to describing him. He had brown hair, waved and worn rather long in the poetic style. His eyes were blue, with long lashes. He was dandified in appearance, wearing a jacket that carried more wadding than really suited his narrow waist and thin legs. His build was not much like Belami’s, but she supposed that with a sheet over the jacket, he would look larger than he was.
    “Good morning, Bidwell. Investigating the scene of the crime, are you?” she asked, approaching him with a friendly smile.
    “Just so, Miss Gower, just so,” he answered with his sweet smile. He had lips like a girl, she noticed. Or was it that the more masculine lips of Belami were still in her mind? “I missed all the excitement last night.”
    “That’s too bad. You retired early, did you?”
    “I went abovestairs for a rest before midnight, but came back down in time to join the search. How is Her Grace holding up under the strain?”
    “Nobly, as we all expected she would,” she told him.
    “A pity about her insurance lapsing. I little thought when Carswell mentioned it to me a fortnight ago how dire the consequences would be.”
    “Ah, yes, your uncle was her agent. Well, my aunt’s loss may prove your gain.”
    “There is no saying. We don’t jog along so well as we ought. We never did hit it off.”
    “Why was that, I wonder?” she asked. They walked along the hall as they spoke.
    “He’s no blood kin to me. I was living with my aunt, old Miriam Bidwell, at the time of the marriage. I was only a lad. I’d been raised by Aunt Miriam. I felt resentful at his usurping my place with the old girl. She was like a mother to me.”
    “Carswell failed to fill the role of father?” she inquired, displaying a casual commiseration.
    “Hardly! I was packed straight off to school. I went to them for

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