Read Online The Mayfair Affair by Tracy Grant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tracy Grant
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Romance, Historical, Mystery & Detective, Regency, Historical Romance, 19th century, Regency Romance, Historical Mystery, Historical Suspense, 19th_century_setting, historical mystery series
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invasion. The servants have so little privacy." Even now, after six years married to a duke's grandson, she was sometimes brought up short by the idiotic masquerade of master and servant.
"I know," Malcolm said, though she knew he would never know it quite the way she did. "But Laura rather abrogated that when she refused to explain what she was doing in Trenchard's study. Besides, her life is at stake." He turned the brass handle of the door.
The room smelled of lavender-scented soap. Laura never wore perfume, at least not in her role as governess. The walls were a pale gray with a hint of blue. Suzanne had asked Laura to choose a color when they were redoing the house. Laura had first demurred that it really didn't matter and that Suzanne should choose, as it was her house. When pressed, she had at last selected this paint. Seemingly as neutral and demure as her clothing and demeanor. But when the light of the brace of candles Malcolm carried fell on the walls, they glowed with unexpected vibrancy.
Malcolm set the candelabrum down and lit a lamp. The room was scrupulously tidy and almost entirely bare of personal items. A low bookshelf held the books Suzanne and Malcolm had given Laura on various occasions through the years—a set of Shakespeare; copies of Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility ; Ludlow, because Laura had once mentioned an interest in seventeenth-century history. The cedarwood jewel box on the dressing table beside the looking glass had also been a gift from them.
"I'll take the desk," Malcolm said. "Suzette, why don't you look through her clothes? O'Roarke, search for hiding places."
The jewel box proved to contain a single strand of pearls, which Suzanne had seen Laura wear on Christmas and other special occasions, a lapis lazuli brooch they had given her, and a cameo pendant Suzanne had never seen her wear. Suzanne held the cameo to the lamplight. "J.H." was engraved on the gold filigree frame. Laura's mother's name, perhaps? The fine-featured profile had a bit of a resemblance to Laura, though the hair seemed more contemporary than what one would expect of her mother. The dressing table drawer contained gray and black gloves, handkerchiefs, hairpins, a steel-framed reticule.
The clothing in the white-painted wardrobe was equally innocuous. Serviceable gowns of kerseymere and merino, two pelisses, a dark blue spencer with black braid that was the most fashionable item, plaited straw hats. The clothing of a governess. Yet it seemed oddly impersonal, as though it belonged to the role and not the person. Suzanne moved to the books but found no sign of anything sewn into the binding or tucked between the pages, save a pastel drawing tucked into Pride and Prejudice . The work of a very young child, but someone older than Jessica. Colin's? Or a memento of one of Laura's former charges?
"Nothing in the writing desk," Malcolm said. "No indication she ever wrote letters." He glanced at Suzanne. "Where did she go on her days off?"
"I have no idea." Suzanne tucked the drawing back into the book. "She never volunteered any information, and I never asked. Trying again to let her keep what privacy she could."
"She never mentioned family?" Malcolm folded his arms across his chest. "Damn it, you're right. I should have paid more attention."
"She told me her family were all gone." Raoul turned from examining the molding.
Suzanne stared at her former spymaster and felt Malcolm do the same.
"Last December," Raoul said. "In the midst of the Hamlet investigation. I came to see the two of you and found Miss Dudley in the square with the children. We talked for a bit."
Malcolm regarded Raoul for a moment. "In a brief encounter you learned more about Laura than I did in over a year."
Raoul gave a faint smile. "As I said, I like Miss Dudley. But I confess I also had an ulterior motive. She intrigued me. She always struck me as more than a governess."
"Why?" Suzanne asked.
"Her performance as a governess
"I know," Malcolm said, though she knew he would never know it quite the way she did. "But Laura rather abrogated that when she refused to explain what she was doing in Trenchard's study. Besides, her life is at stake." He turned the brass handle of the door.
The room smelled of lavender-scented soap. Laura never wore perfume, at least not in her role as governess. The walls were a pale gray with a hint of blue. Suzanne had asked Laura to choose a color when they were redoing the house. Laura had first demurred that it really didn't matter and that Suzanne should choose, as it was her house. When pressed, she had at last selected this paint. Seemingly as neutral and demure as her clothing and demeanor. But when the light of the brace of candles Malcolm carried fell on the walls, they glowed with unexpected vibrancy.
Malcolm set the candelabrum down and lit a lamp. The room was scrupulously tidy and almost entirely bare of personal items. A low bookshelf held the books Suzanne and Malcolm had given Laura on various occasions through the years—a set of Shakespeare; copies of Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility ; Ludlow, because Laura had once mentioned an interest in seventeenth-century history. The cedarwood jewel box on the dressing table beside the looking glass had also been a gift from them.
"I'll take the desk," Malcolm said. "Suzette, why don't you look through her clothes? O'Roarke, search for hiding places."
The jewel box proved to contain a single strand of pearls, which Suzanne had seen Laura wear on Christmas and other special occasions, a lapis lazuli brooch they had given her, and a cameo pendant Suzanne had never seen her wear. Suzanne held the cameo to the lamplight. "J.H." was engraved on the gold filigree frame. Laura's mother's name, perhaps? The fine-featured profile had a bit of a resemblance to Laura, though the hair seemed more contemporary than what one would expect of her mother. The dressing table drawer contained gray and black gloves, handkerchiefs, hairpins, a steel-framed reticule.
The clothing in the white-painted wardrobe was equally innocuous. Serviceable gowns of kerseymere and merino, two pelisses, a dark blue spencer with black braid that was the most fashionable item, plaited straw hats. The clothing of a governess. Yet it seemed oddly impersonal, as though it belonged to the role and not the person. Suzanne moved to the books but found no sign of anything sewn into the binding or tucked between the pages, save a pastel drawing tucked into Pride and Prejudice . The work of a very young child, but someone older than Jessica. Colin's? Or a memento of one of Laura's former charges?
"Nothing in the writing desk," Malcolm said. "No indication she ever wrote letters." He glanced at Suzanne. "Where did she go on her days off?"
"I have no idea." Suzanne tucked the drawing back into the book. "She never volunteered any information, and I never asked. Trying again to let her keep what privacy she could."
"She never mentioned family?" Malcolm folded his arms across his chest. "Damn it, you're right. I should have paid more attention."
"She told me her family were all gone." Raoul turned from examining the molding.
Suzanne stared at her former spymaster and felt Malcolm do the same.
"Last December," Raoul said. "In the midst of the Hamlet investigation. I came to see the two of you and found Miss Dudley in the square with the children. We talked for a bit."
Malcolm regarded Raoul for a moment. "In a brief encounter you learned more about Laura than I did in over a year."
Raoul gave a faint smile. "As I said, I like Miss Dudley. But I confess I also had an ulterior motive. She intrigued me. She always struck me as more than a governess."
"Why?" Suzanne asked.
"Her performance as a governess
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