Love Not Poison , livre ebook

Creative Content - Andrea Clarke Mary

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

117 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

A husband dead in a fire - but was it an accident? A wife hysterical - but is it with grief? The Crimson Cavalier is in search of the truth...In the 1780s young ladies are expected to apply themselves to the social round and the business of finding a husband - but Miss Georgiana Grey is no ordinary young lady. The death of ill-natured Lord Wickerston in a fire leads her to ask questions, to the chagrin of her strait-laced brother Edward and the alarm of her friend Mr Max Lakesby. Who would want Lord Wickerston dead? Does Edward know more than he is willing to say? And how is the notorious highwayman known as the Crimson Cavalier involved?

Sujets

Love

Love (disambiguation)

Informations

Publié par	Creative Content
Date de parution	25 février 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781906790820
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Love Not Poison
Mary Andrea Clarke
They love not poison that do poison need
– William Shakespeare, Richard II
Praise for Mary Andrea Clarke’s first Crimson Cavalier adventure:
... sparkling period crime fiction with lively touch that Georgette Heyer would have appreciated.
– Andrew Taylor, winner of the 2009 Diamond Dagger
an ingenious plot line leading to a surprizing ending. The suspense is well maintained throughout
– Angela Youngman, Monsters and Critics
a light and lively debut
– Martin Edwards, Tangled Web
Readers will be eager for the next installment in the series.
– Publishers Weekly
rich and evocative atmosphere... Well crafted, swiftly paced and enough plot twists to keep you glued to the pages
– Sheila Nathan, I Love a Mystery
a delightful and entertaining novel with an engrossing plot... Regency fans will be clamouring at the publisher’s door...
– Myfanwy Cook, Historical Novels Review
a witty story that meets the 18 th century conventions and twists them into shape
– Jennifer Palmer, Mystery Women
Creme de la Crime... so far have not put a foot wrong.
– Reviewing the Evidence
First published in 2009 by Crème de la Crime P O Box 523, Chesterfield, S40 9AT
Copyright © 2009 Mary Andrea Clarke
The moral right of Mary Andrea Clarke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.
All the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Typesetting by Yvette Warren Cover design by Yvette Warren Front cover image by Peter Roman
ISBN 978-0-9560566-0-3 eBook ISBN 978-1-9067908-2-0 A CIP catalogue reference for this book is available from the British Library
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berkshire
www.cremedelacrime.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the author:
Currently working in the Civil Service, Mary Andrea Clarke has been a regular delegate at crime fiction conferences and a member of Mystery Women since 1998. She has reviewed historical fiction for the Historical Novel Society and crime fiction for Sherlock Magazine, Shots Ezine and Mystery Women. Mary lives in Surrey with her cat, Alice.
www.maryandreaclarke.com
A huge thank-you must go to my nephew, Stephen Clarke, for his interest and enthusiasm – and the hard work he put into creating my website.
Thanks are due to Gillian Haslam, Lorraine Hayes, Jason Perrott and Roz Southey for reading, and to Adrian Magson and Linda Regan for ongoing support and helpful advice.
I would like to thank Lynne Patrick for her sound judgement and useful feedback in editing. I would also like to express my gratitude to Lynne, Jeff, Yvette and the rest of the team at Crème de la Crime for their help in enabling the Crimson Cavalier to ride again.
To my family,
Kevin, Peter, Linda, Alice and Stephen.
Thanks for your support and encouragement.
1
The Crimson Cavalier had had a successful evening, with hopes of still more profit before it had to end. The oaths uttered by the last traveller seemed to linger in the still night air. It was clear and cool, and there had been a sense of peace in the stillness, even when the pistol had pointed straight at the near-apoplectic man. His ruddy cheeks had looked ready to burst with outrage, which escalated when the fair haired young lady who addressed him as ‘uncle‘ looked coyly under her lashes at the highway robber who demanded her jewellery.
Yet, like so many, the gentleman had made no attempt to defend the girl, but had handed over his watch and fob with a poor grace and a mouthful of empty threats. The corpulence of his little finger had defied all attempts to remove the ring which encircled it, and with a bow of defeat, the Crimson Cavalier had bidden the traveller keep it. This incensed the gentleman further, a condition not aided by the sudden complaints of his niece over his failure to protect her. Their bickering was clearly audible along the road as the carriage drew away.
With a shake of the head, the Crimson Cavalier put away the treasures contributed by the apoplectic gentleman.
"That girl’s no more his niece than I am."
This was no surprise, though it would be astonishing if the girl were allowed to complete her journey in the carriage. Sir Thomas would not be above putting her out on the road if her complaints grew too vociferous, assuming she did not herself lose patience and demand to walk.
A casual glance at the horizon dashed all hope of further profit for the evening. The Cavalier’s deep emerald eyes widened between the securely tied mask and the tricorne sporting its distinctive red kerchief.
There was no mistake. Despite the late hour, the sky further along the road was unnervingly light. A red glow flickered through a thick haze of smoke.
The Crimson Cavalier thought quickly. It was clearly impossible to remain on the road. The alarm should be raised, and quickly. Murmured endearments kept the horse calm, one hand firm on the reins while the other stroked the animal’s neck lest the fire spread quickly enough to frighten the beast before help could be found.
Plans for holding up any more carriages abandoned, the Cavalier turned the horse and urged her on along the empty road.
The dark sky began to seem heavy as the gentle breeze carried smoke through the night air. The rider began to feel it, eyes stinging as they tried to focus on the road. The horse seemed in discomfort as well, giving an occasional uneasy whinny and shaking her head.
"Easy, Princess, it’s all right."
The soothing tones calmed the horse and the journey continued at a steady pace, though smoke and soot thickened the atmosphere further. The rider’s own eyes were smarting and tinged with red by the time Princess recognised their destination and slowed to a walk. In the stable, concern over the fire allowed for no more than a brief pause to throw a blanket over the horse’s lathered back.
The Crimson Cavalier stepped silently around the back wall of the darkened house, pulled open an unlocked door and entered with unceremonious haste. A mane of vivid auburn hair tumbled down as a hand tore off the crimson-adorned hat. The other hand removed the mask – and a breathless young lady stood facing the occupants of the room, a man and woman of similar age. Both rose from their seats at the kitchen table, wearing startled expressions.
"Miss Georgiana," the girl began, but was interrupted immediately by the panting newcomer.
"There’s a fire," said Georgiana Grey, in businesslike fashion, standing straight in her highway robber clothes as though it were nothing out of the ordinary. She ran her hand through her auburn hair. "I saw the smoke from the road. It looks like it’s coming from the direction of Marpley Manor. James, get some men and see if you can do anything to help. You’d better rouse the Watch if you can."
The footman nodded and was on his feet, moving into action before his mistress had finished speaking. Georgiana turned to his sister.
"Help me out of these clothes, Emily." Already untying her cravat, Georgiana turned towards the back stairs, her maid directly behind her. They walked quickly but silently until they reached the sanctuary of Georgiana’s bedroom. As the door closed, she removed a small black velvet bag from her belt and handed it to her maid. "Lock that away, please, would you, Emily?" said Georgiana. "There’s little this evening, just a few coins from Sir Thomas Drysdale. Still, it may do someone some good."
Emily grimaced as she took the bag. "Was his wife with him?"
"No, a niece."
Emily offered no reply, putting the bag with its few coins and pieces of jewellery carefully in the drawer of the night table. Turning to see her mistress rifling through her wardrobe, she frowned.
"What are you looking for, miss?"
"Something more suitable to wear," said Georgiana. She gestured towards her highway robber’s attire. "It’s a cursed nuisance, they’re more practical for fast riding than anything else I’ve got." She pulled out a dark green riding habit. "This will have to do."
Emily took it from her, looking doubtful.
"You’re going to Marpley Manor, miss? I’m sure there’s no need. James can raise the alarm."
"I’m going to Lady Bertram’s first, in case that wretched party is still going on."
"The one you left because you had a headache?"
"Yes. Lady Wickerston might still be there." Georgiana grew solemn. "She will need to be told what is happening in her home. Everyone will be busy fighting this fire. No one will have time to go to her."
"No," said Emily slowly. "But how are you going to explain how you know about the fire?"
"I’ll think of something," said Georgiana, as she and Emily hastily fastened the buttons on the riding habit. "Don’t bother about the hat. I haven’t time to waste."
"What about your hair, miss? You can’t just ride across country with it loose."
Georgiana admitted the truth of this. It would be impractical, apart from anything else. "Fetch a riband and tie it back. That will have to suffice."
It was not many minutes before Georgiana was back out on the road, bent hell for leather towards the dull party from which she had excused herself such a short time earlier. James had thoughtfully left another ho