Chapter 1
NEXT UP FOR M IS FOR MURDER…
Read a short excerpt below
CHAPTER ONE
Occasionally, there is a day in a girl’s life that changes everything.
For Miss Clara Melby, the first such day had occurred at the tender age of thirteen.
She’d been waiting for her brother to return home from Oxford for the winter holiday. Weather and final exams had delayed his homecoming, and she’d missed him terribly. Without him at home, there was little to do save crochet and attend her ceaseless lessons on elocution and decorum.
So when his carriage finally turned up the drive, she forgot both as she raced out into the drizzle, heedless of her slippers and the hem of her gown as she splashed down the stairs and across the drive toward the slowing carriage.
And when the door flew open, Clara tossed herself bodily toward the vehicle, sure her brother would catch her in his arms.
Only it wasn’t her brother who traversed the carriage step. Rather than the thin shoulders and blond hair of her brother, Marcus, a dark-haired, much broader young man caught her in midlaunch, laughing as he stepped down and lightly set her aside.
Heat filled her cheeks as she grasped the strong shoulders of the stranger, her tongue inexplicably tied.
“I say, Marcus, you didn’t tell me your sister was a hoyden.”
And the rosy glow that had filled her turned into an inferno of shame as he laughed at his own joke.
“Clara,” her brother called, stepping out. “I see you’ve met my friend, Viscount Aslin, heir to the Earl of Kinross.”
She dipped into an awkward curtsy. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I expected Marcus to exit.”
But Aslin only laughed the more as he leaned closer. “Think nothing of it. I much prefer a hoyden to any other type of lady. Especially one who looks like an angel.”
And with those words, she’d been completely smitten.
That was the first day that changed her entire world. Because after Aslin had entered her life, it didn’t matter how many men attempted to win her hand, her heart had always belonged to him.
Never mind that her mother asserted he was a terrible rake.
Or her father ranted that while they wanted her to marry well, Aslin was too big a catch, even for her.
Nor did she heed Aslin’s unpredictable behavior, lavishing her with favor one visit and then not writing for months on end.
He was her future, she was sure of that. And she’d grown more certain with each yearly visit he made.
On one such visit years later when she’d been sixteen, she’d found herself alone in the garden with him on a sunny but cold afternoon close to Christmastide. He wrapped his arm about her and held her close to keep her warm.
She looked up at his warm brown eyes and whispered, “I could stay like this with you forever.”
He’d given her a warm smile in return as he leaned closer, and for a moment, Clara thought he might kiss her, but instead, he did something almost as wonderful.
He confessed a deep secret to her. “Angel, I can’t wed.
Not until I’ve taken over the earldom and this business with my father is done.
He hates me, I know he does, and I won’t give him that power over my wife. ”
She’d been beyond honored that he’d shared this piece of himself with her.
Didn’t that mean he had feelings for her the way she did him?
Wasn’t that why he shared this secret with her?
And clearly, he was attempting to explain.
With his relationship to his father so tumultuous, he’d not wed until after the earl had passed.
He couldn’t show her favor until he was the earl.
But how long might that be? What if it were years? Would she have to be placed on the shelf in order to save herself for him? She’d do it, she decided. She was nothing if not tenacious.
And then, a year ago, her mother’s health had begun to decline. The change had been gradual at first. She’d become winded easily, growing tired and then thin. Clara had been racked with worry. And she’d not heard a word from Aslin despite writing him several letters about her concern.
But equally troublesome was that her mother looked at Clara with worried eyes. “Clara, how can you not be married yet?” she’d asked a half dozen times.
Her confidence in her future had wavered, and for the first time, she’d considered not marrying Aslin. Perhaps she shouldn’t wait. For her mother’s sake, maybe she should find someone else.
Not that she had. She retreated into spending time with her friends and vicariously living through their romances. And she’d allowed herself to dream outside Aslin. For another man…
Well, he wasn’t someone she’d met. Instead, she’d been reading about this man—the Bushy Hero.
He stalked the night, saving innocent people from dastardly criminals.
He captured her fancy and made her truly wonder, was Aslin the man for her?
Should she find someone who concerned himself with the troubles of others?
She needed help and Aslin was nowhere to be found.
Which led her to the second day that had changed her life.
Because at the age of one and twenty, today, the twentieth of June, in the year 1837, a day that started like any other—as those life-changing days often did—she’d sat down to eat her hard-boiled egg and opened her father’s paper.
She could confess she’d been searching for another article on the Bushy Hero.
Had he saved another woman in need? But rather than finding a story about him, another jumped off the page: a headline that once again turned her world upside down.
The Earl of Kinross had died.
Her fork had stopped midway to her mouth.
Aslin was finally free to wed. This had been the barrier between her and Aslin all these years, and now that it was gone…
Aslin was the new Earl of Kinross.
Her breath caught as her fingers trembled around the paper, all thoughts of the Bushy Hero gone. Heedless of her uneaten breakfast, Clara jumped from the table and raced to the sitting room where she kept her stationery.
She needed to write her brother, Marcus. He’d been away from town, back at home in Pembrokeshire, managing the family’s coal mine. But he’d have to return to London.
Or would she and her father travel to Bristol and meet Marcus there? Marcus would have to pass through Bristol on his way to London, so perhaps that made more sense?
Her breath hitched as she considered the possibilities.
Was it a sign that just as she’d given up on Aslin, his father had passed, making him free to marry her? Had this been a test of her feelings?
Would he declare his affection after all these years given her loving support?
Her hands trembled as she clasped them together, thinking of the possibilities. Surely this was the sign that she and Aslin were meant to be. Her mother’s wish that she settle, Aslin finally being free…
Her father appeared in the doorway. “Good morning,” he called as he stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping over her as his mouth set into a frown. “What has you atwitter already? It’s not even ten o’clock.”
She pressed her hands together, forcing her voice to be calm. “I just learned that the Earl of Kinross has passed.”
Her father gave a stiff nod. “Shame, that.”
She nodded, wincing inwardly that she felt only passing remorse. “It is.”
“I received a letter from the new earl yesterday asking us to attend the funeral services.”
She clasped her fingers together. It really did seem as though the fates were aligning. “When do we leave?”
Her father shook her head. “I’m not certain. Your mother…”
Her hands dropped, her brows knitting as fear knotted her belly. “Is she worse? Should I be worried?”
Father waved his hand. “It’s nothing to worry about. She’s the same. But I’d rather not leave her all the same.”
Clara just managed to hold in her cry. She didn’t wish to leave her mother, either, but how did she fulfill the future her mother wished for if she stayed at home? “Not travel? But we need to show the new earl our support. I—”
Her father grimaced. “Not this again. What is your infatuation with that man?”
Clara didn’t answer. Was it an infatuation still? She didn’t want to think on it just now. But she knew she had to go, for everyone’s sake. “Marcus will travel straight to the funeral from Pembrokeshire?”
“Of course,” her father answered, his frown deepening. “But if you’ve got it in your mind to go, I’d imagine one of your newlywed friends is attending and can escort you there.”
Hope bloomed in Clara’s chest. That was precisely the answer.
With a clear plan in place, she sat down at her desk and began to write.
* * *
Mr. Ralph Fitzroy stared at the queen’s dignitary and attempted not to scratch his head in confusion.
Very rarely did he go into a situation with one set of expectations only to learn that he’d had the whole thing completely wrong.
He’d expected to come today and be arrested, if he were honest. Which he usually was. For the past six months, his younger half-brother, Wyatt, the Viscount Ware, had been leading a second life as a shadowed hero, stealing through the streets of London and capturing criminals.
And while England was a country of people’s law and order, the practice wasn’t precisely legal.
So when they’d had to expose the identity of the hero in order to bring an impostor earl to justice, Ralph had decided to complete the deed and take whatever punishment came with revealing his identity. He’d been half of the hero, anyway.
Besides, Wyatt was a viscount and newly married. His life and his future were of far more importance than Ralph’s. “I beg your pardon?” he said to the man across from him.
The other gentleman pursed his lips, clearly unimpressed with the request to repeat his words.
“Her Majesty has asked for your aid.” Ralph said nothing as the man continued.
“She’s aware of your connection to the Viscount Ware, which puts you in an ideal position to travel to the Earl of Kinross’s funeral. ”