Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) by Lisa Andersen
Authors: Lisa Andersen
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but now he has thawed and grows warmer every day.
Perhaps ice often hides the warmest hearts.
The Duke’s Match
“I hear he is a frightfully cold-hearted man,” Father said, sucking on his pipe and looking deep into the fire. Lord Lloyd Emerson would have caused a scandal if he’d voiced his opinions in public. Luckily they were just in their drawing-room in the deep country of south west England, just north of Cornwall. “His Grace Edison Wells, he fought in France, you know. His Grace fought the French for us! Yes, but that doesn’t change his bearing toward the world! A cold, cold-hearted man.”
“Husband,” Mother said. “You shall cause a disturbance with such talk.” Lady Esther Emerson shook her head. “We have been invited to a ball by the Duke of Waltren, and all you can think about is causing a disturbance. I pity you, my dear husband.”
“Ha!” Father cried, slapping his knee. “These are dark times indeed, when a man is pitied for having an opinion.”
“It is not the opinion that matters, Father,” Lady Rebecca Emerson said, smiling across the fire at him. “It is the way one expresses it. You cannot just come out and say what you think. It is awfully uncouth, not to mention tactically misguided.”
Father grinned. “Daughter of mine, how intelligent you sound!”
“Yes,” Mother muttered. “It is no way for a lady of three-and-twenty to sound. So arrogant, and yet still unmarried! I wonder if the two are not connected in some pernicious way! Young lords aren’t overly fond of arrogant women, dear. You ought to know that by now.”
“Oh, leave the poor girl alone,” Father said. “She is merely cutting to the heart of it, as she always does.”
Auntie Garnet Leverton looked up from her knitting with a furrowed brow. “I am afraid I must agree with my dear sister,” she said. “If I had known thirty years ago what brashness gifted a woman, I would have become quite meek indeed.”
“You are threatening the girl with your own fate,” Father said, with a kind smile to take out the sting. “You will send her to the Colonies if you keep up such talk.”
“The Colonies?” Mother said. “Did you not hear, my love? There has been a Revolution.”
Father waved his hand. “Revolutions, what a phase! What next, pigs that can ascend to the heavens! Oh, the world! The world!”
Rebecca listened to all this with a profound sense of anticipation. She was to attend a ball at His Grace’s castle in Wells. Oh, how many lords and ladies would be there, how much beauty! She had not lost all the novelty of balls and dances, though she had become slightly jaded by it all. This was her fourth season without a husband, after all. And Mother and Auntie were quite keen to use this ball as an opportunity to find her a husband. It was only her beauty and her family’s wealth that had stopped her becoming a wallflower.
“It will be quite the party, I am sure,” Father said. “Yes, yes, quite the party indeed. Perhaps Rebecca, my sweet daughter, will cause another lord to nearly throw up his lemon cake!”
Rebecca hid a smile. “That is quite scandalous, Daddy,” she said. “I did not cause him to do a thing. He was merely surprised by something he had not hitherto known existed: a woman’s wit.”
“It cut him like a saber!”
“Really, daughter, must you…”
*****
The four of them arrived at the ball on a sweltering August day, when the sun burnt down rays of preposterous heat, and Mother and Auntie looked up at the sky as though mortally offended. The footmen escorted them from the carriage and led them through into the chamber, wherein lords and ladies in tight circles talked, and the dancing floor was Quadrille , that new French dance which caused Mother and Auntie to turn their noses in disgust, but which they had to accept because it had made its way into His Grace’s ballroom.
The lords wore tight britches with long-tailed jackets and knee-high boots.
Perhaps ice often hides the warmest hearts.
The Duke’s Match
“I hear he is a frightfully cold-hearted man,” Father said, sucking on his pipe and looking deep into the fire. Lord Lloyd Emerson would have caused a scandal if he’d voiced his opinions in public. Luckily they were just in their drawing-room in the deep country of south west England, just north of Cornwall. “His Grace Edison Wells, he fought in France, you know. His Grace fought the French for us! Yes, but that doesn’t change his bearing toward the world! A cold, cold-hearted man.”
“Husband,” Mother said. “You shall cause a disturbance with such talk.” Lady Esther Emerson shook her head. “We have been invited to a ball by the Duke of Waltren, and all you can think about is causing a disturbance. I pity you, my dear husband.”
“Ha!” Father cried, slapping his knee. “These are dark times indeed, when a man is pitied for having an opinion.”
“It is not the opinion that matters, Father,” Lady Rebecca Emerson said, smiling across the fire at him. “It is the way one expresses it. You cannot just come out and say what you think. It is awfully uncouth, not to mention tactically misguided.”
Father grinned. “Daughter of mine, how intelligent you sound!”
“Yes,” Mother muttered. “It is no way for a lady of three-and-twenty to sound. So arrogant, and yet still unmarried! I wonder if the two are not connected in some pernicious way! Young lords aren’t overly fond of arrogant women, dear. You ought to know that by now.”
“Oh, leave the poor girl alone,” Father said. “She is merely cutting to the heart of it, as she always does.”
Auntie Garnet Leverton looked up from her knitting with a furrowed brow. “I am afraid I must agree with my dear sister,” she said. “If I had known thirty years ago what brashness gifted a woman, I would have become quite meek indeed.”
“You are threatening the girl with your own fate,” Father said, with a kind smile to take out the sting. “You will send her to the Colonies if you keep up such talk.”
“The Colonies?” Mother said. “Did you not hear, my love? There has been a Revolution.”
Father waved his hand. “Revolutions, what a phase! What next, pigs that can ascend to the heavens! Oh, the world! The world!”
Rebecca listened to all this with a profound sense of anticipation. She was to attend a ball at His Grace’s castle in Wells. Oh, how many lords and ladies would be there, how much beauty! She had not lost all the novelty of balls and dances, though she had become slightly jaded by it all. This was her fourth season without a husband, after all. And Mother and Auntie were quite keen to use this ball as an opportunity to find her a husband. It was only her beauty and her family’s wealth that had stopped her becoming a wallflower.
“It will be quite the party, I am sure,” Father said. “Yes, yes, quite the party indeed. Perhaps Rebecca, my sweet daughter, will cause another lord to nearly throw up his lemon cake!”
Rebecca hid a smile. “That is quite scandalous, Daddy,” she said. “I did not cause him to do a thing. He was merely surprised by something he had not hitherto known existed: a woman’s wit.”
“It cut him like a saber!”
“Really, daughter, must you…”
*****
The four of them arrived at the ball on a sweltering August day, when the sun burnt down rays of preposterous heat, and Mother and Auntie looked up at the sky as though mortally offended. The footmen escorted them from the carriage and led them through into the chamber, wherein lords and ladies in tight circles talked, and the dancing floor was Quadrille , that new French dance which caused Mother and Auntie to turn their noses in disgust, but which they had to accept because it had made its way into His Grace’s ballroom.
The lords wore tight britches with long-tailed jackets and knee-high boots.
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