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

Talgarth had received her letter about Jack. Poor Jack. She missed him dreadfully. He had been her rock. If not for Jack she was certain she’d have ended up in Bedlam before now. For all Jack’s sweet placidity he had known exactly how to manage the ill-tempered and violent George Jamison-Lewis; and to the amazement of J-L’s servants. But Selina knew all about her cousin’s relationship with her husband. Jack had told her, and right at the beginning of her marriage. She and Jack had danced about her boudoir the day J-L was found shot dead in the wood. They had been set free. Jack’s freedom lasted less than a month.
    She tossed the hairbrush on the dressing table and stared critically at her reflection. She looked tired and there was no glow to her cheeks. What was she to do with this thick tangle of apricot-colored curls? Emily’s gold hair shone in the sun. God help the poor girl, marrying such a vile toad; at least this toad was not a woman-hater. The change that had come over Alec’s features, from talking to Emily to glancing across the room at her. She could only suppose her mere presence was enough to make him feel uncomfortable. How dare he regard her with an unforgiving eye… She turned away from the looking-glass.
    “Evans? I asked you to open the windows. It’s too hot in here!”
    “You’ve been thinking again,” her lady’s maid said stridently. “It doesn’t do for you to think.”
    “Thank you, Evans. I shall remember that next time I feel the inner cogs taking a turn. Did you put the accounts on the table by the window?” Selina asked, slipping a flowered night robe over her cotton chemise but not bothering to button it. She went through to the bedchamber and sat at the small desk under the window where two thick ledgers, a bundle of bills tied up with black ribbon and a standish with fresh ink had been carefully arranged. “I’ll need another candle.”
    “You need to sleep, not fill your head with numbers,” Evans lectured, roughly plumping the pillows and turning down the coverlet. “You have a man of business to do such menial tasks. I don’t know why you brought those books here when you’re supposed to be resting.”
    Selina looked over her shoulder at the older woman and smiled. “I’ve always had a head for figure work. And I especially enjoy these figures because they are now mine. Well, almost, once I finalize J-L’s outstanding debts. Then we can start afresh.” She turned back to the desk and untied the black ribbon. “That candle, Evans. If you please. Then you may go to bed.” She ignored her maid’s muffled noise of infuriation and settled down to an hour pouring over the last of her late husband’s outstanding debts.
    The candle burned too quickly in the cool night air which blew in through the open window. It had almost guttered twice, leaving a pool of hot wax in the bowl of the holder before Selina realized Evans had not returned with the requested replacement candle. She knew the woman thought she was doing her a favor by making her stop her calculations but Selina wasn’t tired enough, she needed to be exhausted before she could go to bed and sleep without dreaming. She put the ledger aside, the ink notations made in the columns still drying, and was about to fetch a candle herself when she heard a soft tread behind her.
    “Thank you, Evans. Late but just in time.”
    The hand that squeezed her shoulder did not belong to Evans.
     
    Tam took the main staircase up to Miss Emily’s rooms knowing he was unlikely to meet any guests at this hour. If he did, they would be types like Lady Gervais who wouldn’t care a fig what the lackeys thought of their nocturnal wanderings. There was the usual night footman at the end of the passageway leading to Miss Emily’s apartments and Tam nodded to him as he went past.
    He knocked on the furthest door of the suite of rooms. It was the door to Jenny’s small bedchamber. As personal maid to Miss Emily she had the