But the attempt at humor fell flat, for it only made her feel somehow complicit in the Mayhews’ tragedy, as if it were her investigation that had created its conditions. It was absurd, she knew, for the wounds had already been festering, and if Parsons’s version of events had been allowed to stand, something else would have brought the putrefaction to light.
Malevolence oozed.
It was an exceptionally dismal thought—ah, yes, the dreary Miss Hyde-Clare—and she smothered a sigh.
Or rather, she thought she had smothered it, but a moment later Kesgrave took her hand in his own. It was a mundane gesture, yes, and yet wildly shocking because dukes did not show their affection publicly, certainly not to their wives, and there were quite a few passersby to witness the outrageous deed. Indeed, Bea thought for certain she had noticed Mrs. Ralston’s intrusive nose among the observers, and the prospect of London’s most zealous gossip haunting Berkeley Square in hopes of catching sight of just such an exhibition almost made her grin.
Clutching Kesgrave’s hand gratefully, Bea marveled at how he continually revealed himself to be more than she expected—more, of course, than the pedantic bore whom she longed to pelt with fillets of salmon in the dining room at Lakeview Hall, but also more than the thoughtful, open-minded, deprecating soul she had discovered him to be.
It was the opposite, she supposed, that caused gnawing resentment, the bitter revelation that the person you married was somehow and substantially less than you had believed.
“If you deem it necessary to inspect Coutts’s books,” the duke said as they turned up the path to Kesgrave House, “then I must insist on a full week to examine the situation before we make the attempt. As it is accustomed to a higher quality of client than Mayhew & Co., we cannot expect them to genuflect quite so deeply before my title.”
Naturally, Bea scoffed at the display of modesty, for having seen him don his full consequence she felt confident he could cower anyone, especially the proprietors of an esteemed institution devoted to the acquisition and consolidation of wealth. In fact, she believed so fully in his ability to puff himself up to a monstrous size, she insisted they visit Coutts on the morrow so that her thesis could be proved correct.
Firmly rejecting the proposal, Kesgrave announced that while he was happy to be bear-led to his ruin by his wife, he required a more compelling reason than to satisfy her curiosity.
Beatrice lamented his lack of inquisitiveness and asked where the world would be if, observing the apple that had clonked him on the head, Newton had shrugged his shoulders indifferently and returned to his book.
Kesgrave replied that his humiliating himself at a banking establishment was not equal to the discovery of gravity.
Once again, his wife tsked disapprovingly and noted that his humility was getting excessively out of hand.
And, quarreling ardently with her husband, the Duchess of Kesgrave entered her home.
About the Author
Lynn Messina is the author of more than a dozen novels, including the Beatrice Hyde-Clare mysteries, a series of cozies set in Regency-era England. Her first novel, Fashionistas, has been translated into sixteen languages and was briefly slated to be a movie starring Lindsay Lohan. Her essays have appeared in Self, American Baby and the New York Times Modern Love column, and she's a regular contributor to the Times parenting blog. She lives in New York City with her sons.
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More Mystery!
Book One: A Brazen Curiosity
Book Two: A Scandalous Deception
Book Three: An Infamous Betrayal
Book Four: A Nefarious Engagement
Book Five: A Treacherous Performance
Book Six: A Sinister Establishment
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Some Romance!
Anything can happen in Regency London, as five headstrong and passionate women defy propriety and find love with powerful lords as determined as they are.
Love Takes Root series
Book One: The Harlow Hoyden
Book Two: The Other Harlow Girl
Book Three: The Fellingham Minx
Book Four: The Bolingbroke Chit
Book Five: The Impertinent Miss Templeton
