Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) Read Online Free PDF

washing. The smile spread into a look of amazement at Alec’s next words. The butler had slid into the room and announced his presence with a slight clearing of the throat. He wasn’t given the opportunity to speak.
    “Wantage? Good. Have someone fetch my tailor and my bootmaker. Yes, now. I want half a dozen shirts and the same of breeches for my valet. He can measure for two frocks.” Alec looked at Tam thoughtfully. “I think one pair of jockeyboots and two pair of shoes will suffice for now. Until then, Tam, you’d best dig out something from my wardrobe to make do. That’s after you’ve bathed. See to it, Wantage, will you?”
     
    Alone together in the breakfast room uncle and nephew were at pains to avoid the topic uppermost in their thoughts. Thus conversation was somewhat halting and strained, serving only to underline the uncle’s deep concern and the nephew’s great reluctance to talk about the events of the previous day. Plantagenet Halsey pretended to concentrate on his food while Alec flipped through a stack of correspondence Wantage had placed before him on a silver tray. He tossed aside a number of invitations and packets and paused over one or two accounts, giving them more attention than they deserved. His uncle watched him closely, knew the moment when he had come across one invitation in particular, and wasn’t surprised when Alec took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and pushed aside his plate, though he had eaten only a roll and a mouthful of egg.
    “You’ve not told me about Paris,” said Plantagenet Halsey.
    “Paris?” Alec shrugged. “There isn’t much to add to the last letter I sent. Bedford did all he could to secure adequate terms for the peace. It’s just a pity he wasn’t permitted to get on with it unencumbered.”
    “You mean without the interference of Bute?”
    “Precisely. If he hadn’t been so keen to secure the Peace at any cost just to serve his political ends, we may have ended up with considerably more than we did. Then again, we did gain our objectives in America and India so I’m not repining.”
    Plantagenet Halsey merely nodded and absently stirred his coffee.
    “What?” Alec smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “At the very least I expected a lecture on the belligerent attitude of Mr. Pitt, if not, for you to fully endorse Bute’s eagerness to reach an agreement with the French. Simon told me you gave them a hell of a time in the House over the introduction of a cider tax.”
    “Aye, I did. Deserved it too. No Englishman is going to stand for it! They don’t seem to realize that. Then again, they don’t care to. Cider tax to pay for a war that gained us next to nothing. Pah! Pack of self-servers. Alec! We need to talk—”
    “More coffee, Uncle?” Alec interrupted. “I thought we might go to the club after dinner. I’d go earlier but I have this mountain of correspondence to work through. And I suppose I should begin writing up my final report for the department. Not that that will take up too much of my time. Tauton never reads them. He gives all his reports to a junior clerk to pour over and file as he sees fit. The man is a waste of space. A prime example of why the present system of sinecures and patronage just doesn’t work.”
    If he hoped to draw his uncle into a discussion on one of his pet hates Alec failed to do so because Plantagenet Halsey wasn’t to be diverted. He was only half-listening, his pale eyes surveying his nephew with a look something akin to sadness. It was enough to make Alec turn away and look out the window.
    “The Duchess of Romney-St. Neots was at Ranelagh Gardens the other night,” said the old man in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “Went there in the company of that prim and proper daughter of hers—forget her name—and that bore of a son-in-law. Poor woman must’ve had a dreadful time of it. They saw you there…”
    “Made it to Ranelagh, did I? I’ve no recollection.”
    “Seems you were with a party