Let's Talk of Murder by Joan Smith Page A
Authors: Joan Smith
Tags: regency Mystery/Romance
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lingering kiss, before letting her go. The memory of that kiss echoed in her mind as she sorted through her gowns and shawls. She loved Luten to distraction, and it was foolish to keep the meetings with Byron a secret from him. Byron was fascinating, but he was fascinating in the way a blazing fire was fascinating. One could hardly take her eyes off him, but she could get badly burned if she got too close. She certainly didn’t love him. She wasn’t even sure she liked him.
She set aside a gold moire gown with a wine stain in the front that had defied Mrs. Ballard’s efforts to remove it. Coffen had spilled his wine on her at one of Luten’s dinner parties. There were yards of good material in the skirt. A yellow and green lutestring from her pre-widow days was now too youthful for her, and out of style besides. She added it to the parcel, and got from Mrs. Ballard a few ells of muslin she had set aside for making tea towels. Like Fanny, Mrs. Ballard declared that the devil found work for idle hands.
A lady’s cast-off clothing was usually considered the perquisite of her dresser but Mrs. Ballard, though hired as a companion, insisted on earning her keep and had assumed that role. Mrs. Ballard would no more wear such colorful, rich gowns than she would paint her face. She wore unrelieved black, in honor of her husband who had expired over a decade before.
Corinne took a light meal, Mrs. Ballard sat with her but could tackle no more than soup, due to her drawn tooth. Corinne convinced her to go to bed and made her own preparations for the return trip to Morgate’s Home. As she sat waiting for Coffen, she decided to write a note for Beth, in case she didn’t see her. She would just mention that if the girl required anything, she would be happy to supply it, and tell her that a position was waiting for her when she left the home.
She had not actually exchanged one word with Beth, and it was strange she felt so drawn to her. What could account for it? She glanced into the mirror as she went to her desk, and stopped, staring. Some trick of the light cast her face into shadows. For a moment, she had the strange sensation that she was looking at Beth. Was that it? That Beth reminded her of her own younger, harried self, when her papa told her she would marry Lord deCoventry?
At seventeen, with her head full of romantical notions, she had been devastated–and yet it had all turned out so well. DeCoventry was a kind, gentle man. After a while, she got over the feeling that she was merchandise. But things had not turned out so well for Beth. Fanny had said she was “not so common as most.” Was she a governess? No, a little young for that. A nursemaid, perhaps. Or just the daughter of some minor gentry family who didn’t want the disgrace of an unwed mama in their family?
A commotion at the door told her Coffen had arrived.
----
Chapter 11
“Did you tell him?” were Coffen’s first words when they were in the carriage.
“About Byron, you mean? No, I didn’t.”
“I would if I was you. I nearly let it out myself. Bound to come out sooner or later. If I don’t blow the gaff by accident, Reg’ll do it on purpose. Not that I mean to speak ill of the wretch behind his back. I’d say the same to his face. He can’t help himself, that’s what it is. That mean streak in him just gets him by the nose and first thing you know, the mischief is done.”
“I’ll tell him very soon. I’ve just been waiting for the proper moment.”
“The sooner the better. He’ll be mad as a hornet that you’ve kept it secret. Mean to say, that makes it look bad when it ain’t. It ain’t, is it?” he asked, piercing her with a gimlet eye. “You haven’t gone falling in love with him? Nothing to be ashamed of. He has every lady in town lashed to the mast.”
“Oh I know he’s charming, but I don’t really care a fig for him, Coffen.” He nodded, accepting it. After a moment, she said, “Fitz is making the wrong turn.
She set aside a gold moire gown with a wine stain in the front that had defied Mrs. Ballard’s efforts to remove it. Coffen had spilled his wine on her at one of Luten’s dinner parties. There were yards of good material in the skirt. A yellow and green lutestring from her pre-widow days was now too youthful for her, and out of style besides. She added it to the parcel, and got from Mrs. Ballard a few ells of muslin she had set aside for making tea towels. Like Fanny, Mrs. Ballard declared that the devil found work for idle hands.
A lady’s cast-off clothing was usually considered the perquisite of her dresser but Mrs. Ballard, though hired as a companion, insisted on earning her keep and had assumed that role. Mrs. Ballard would no more wear such colorful, rich gowns than she would paint her face. She wore unrelieved black, in honor of her husband who had expired over a decade before.
Corinne took a light meal, Mrs. Ballard sat with her but could tackle no more than soup, due to her drawn tooth. Corinne convinced her to go to bed and made her own preparations for the return trip to Morgate’s Home. As she sat waiting for Coffen, she decided to write a note for Beth, in case she didn’t see her. She would just mention that if the girl required anything, she would be happy to supply it, and tell her that a position was waiting for her when she left the home.
She had not actually exchanged one word with Beth, and it was strange she felt so drawn to her. What could account for it? She glanced into the mirror as she went to her desk, and stopped, staring. Some trick of the light cast her face into shadows. For a moment, she had the strange sensation that she was looking at Beth. Was that it? That Beth reminded her of her own younger, harried self, when her papa told her she would marry Lord deCoventry?
At seventeen, with her head full of romantical notions, she had been devastated–and yet it had all turned out so well. DeCoventry was a kind, gentle man. After a while, she got over the feeling that she was merchandise. But things had not turned out so well for Beth. Fanny had said she was “not so common as most.” Was she a governess? No, a little young for that. A nursemaid, perhaps. Or just the daughter of some minor gentry family who didn’t want the disgrace of an unwed mama in their family?
A commotion at the door told her Coffen had arrived.
----
Chapter 11
“Did you tell him?” were Coffen’s first words when they were in the carriage.
“About Byron, you mean? No, I didn’t.”
“I would if I was you. I nearly let it out myself. Bound to come out sooner or later. If I don’t blow the gaff by accident, Reg’ll do it on purpose. Not that I mean to speak ill of the wretch behind his back. I’d say the same to his face. He can’t help himself, that’s what it is. That mean streak in him just gets him by the nose and first thing you know, the mischief is done.”
“I’ll tell him very soon. I’ve just been waiting for the proper moment.”
“The sooner the better. He’ll be mad as a hornet that you’ve kept it secret. Mean to say, that makes it look bad when it ain’t. It ain’t, is it?” he asked, piercing her with a gimlet eye. “You haven’t gone falling in love with him? Nothing to be ashamed of. He has every lady in town lashed to the mast.”
“Oh I know he’s charming, but I don’t really care a fig for him, Coffen.” He nodded, accepting it. After a moment, she said, “Fitz is making the wrong turn.
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