Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) by Lucinda Brant Page A

believe all Lady Margaret told you. She is distraught with grief and all her anger is directed against Delvin.”
    “But she’s telling everyone of her acquaintance. She says her tongue is now free to reveal the truth, that she has no qualms about breaking a promise to your mamma, after what Edward did to her son. She’s very convincing.”
    “A word of advice. Don’t repeat to Del—”
    “But I have,” she answered naïvely, wriggling her hand free to slide it up the taut muscles of his arm. “I had to. It’s the most extraordinary piece of gossip I’ve heard in ten years!”
    “And his reaction?”
    “I thought he would laugh off such an absurd accusation. Well, it is absurd, isn’t it? He didn’t. He was very rude and that’s why he’s gone to Selina, to teach me a lesson. Well, as far as I’m concerned he is welcome to her! She can’t know half the tricks I do. He’ll have a miserable evening.”
    Alec grinned and shook his head at her pettishness. “I’m sure Selina can’t hold a candle to you on that front.”
    “She can’t,” said Lady Gervais proudly, unhooking the front of her low cut bodice. “No one can.”
    “Is that so?” he said, chiding her under the chin. “Then Delvin would be a fool to give you up.”
    She smiled naughtily, and in one deft movement straddled his lap, her petticoats bunched up over her knees and her breasts spilling out of the confinement of a tight bodice. She put a hand about his neck, clutching at the satin bow that held his long hair in place while the other guided his right hand to cup an ample breast. She then kissed him full on the mouth, smiling to herself in triumph that she had at last captured his interest when his thumb began to rub rhythmically against her nipple. Yet, for all that, his response was less than enthusiastic and at the sound of a knock on the outer door he turned his head away. She was all for ignoring it and had a hand again to the buttons of his breeches when he kissed her on the forehead and gently put her aside. There was another knock on the door, more persistent than the first and Alec adjusted his clothing and went in answer to it.
    “Damn!” she blurted out angrily, sprawling out suggestively on the sofa. She made no effort to cover herself, hoping he would deal with the interruption and come back to finish what she had started.
    Alec opened the door, a hand through his tussled hair, to find a footman moving from foot to foot. Without preamble he told Alec he was wanted immediately in the rooms occupied by Mrs. Jamison-Lewis. Then, taking a glance over Alec’s shoulder at the naked woman lying across the cushions on the sofa, the footman turned on a heel and hurried away, eyes wide and unblinking.
     
    Selina carefully extracted a long pearl handled hairpin entangled in one of her tight curls and shook out her abundant waist-length hair. “No, Evans, I’ll brush it tonight,” she said and took the silver backed brush from her somber faced personal maid. “Open the window in the bedchamber, would you?”
    Why had she given in to Olivia’s pleadings and agreed to stay the weekend? A weekend of celebrations wasn’t exactly the sort of social outing permitted new widows. But the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots had argued that as long as Selina did not dance at the Fireworks Ball no one would raise an objection to her being a house guest. The only house guest dressed in black, thought Selina with a frown. How was she going to endure a whole year dressed in widow’s weeds? But she knew the answer to that. She had arranged to spend the summer with her brother Talgarth. He lived in the remote Mendip Hills and was a painter, and he had hated George Jamison-Lewis almost as much as she had hated him. She would wear Indian muslin and bright taffeta and Talgarth would make her laugh again and no one would look twice at her there. Yet the prospect of visiting her brother had lost much of its appeal since Jack’s death.
    She wondered if