Murder at Almack's: A Regency Romantic Suspense Short Story Read Online Free PDF Page A

mother said from behind them, outraged.
    “At my insistence, Mother,” Derrick said, turning to her. “The opportunity was too great. I was too fevered. They pledged to return. Someone had to carry the news of the duke’s treachery.”
    Swift strides crossed the parquet. More rustles of satin. Ellingham’s and Trevor’s families, unsure until now of their sons’ fates, hurried to their sides.
    Derrick’s family gathered at his. “It is over,” he said, more to himself than the others, his heart full.
    “Yes, but who killed the duke?” Lady Goodfield said, staring down at the dead man with distaste.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    “Indeed,” Lady Prysden said, standing across from Derrick on the other side of the duke’s body, the color high in her cheeks. “Is it not obvious?” She gazed pointedly at Derrick. “The Duke of Belville’s guilt does not assuage the Viscount Trulington’s own treason. The viscount kills to protect himself.”
    “My son was condemned of treason at the duke’s own hand two years ago,” Derrick’s mother said. “The duke alone made the accusations, hoursbefore my son’s reported death.”
    “For what purpose but the truth?” said Lady Prysden, her voice hard.
    Lady Trulington turned her gaze to Eliza. “Is it not obvious?”
    Eliza gasped. Turned anguished eyes to Derrick.
    “All the more reason to kill His Grace,” Lady Prysden said.
    Men moved toward Derrick from the fringes of the crowd, all with the look of hardened, seasoned soldiers and led by the footman from the front door, and Derrick understood now the man’s military bearing, he was in the employ of His Majesty and commander of tonight’s plot to capture the duke. “Not the viscount,” the footman cum commander barked out to his men. “The woman.”
    Derrick stepped between the men and Eliza. He would defend her with his li—
    The soldiers gripped Lady Prysden’s arms.
    “Unhand me,” she said, outraged.
    “Your ladyship,” the commander said. “We’ve had a watch on His Grace the Duke of Belville all evening. We saw you stab him.”
    Lady Prysden drew herself up full height, her auburn hair gleaming in the candlelight. “I am with child,” she said in an imperial tone. “The duke’s heir. I will have my child acknowledged.”
    “That’s for the judge to decide,” the commander said and hauled her away.
    ***
    Derrick kissed his mother’s tear-wet cheek. Pulled her and his sister Anne into a deep hug, then he turned to Lady Goodfield and her daughter.
    Lady Goodfield held his gaze, her head high, a bright flicker in her beautiful blue eyes, one that matched the flicker in her daughter’s eyes.
    He knew that flicker. He’d felt it in his own heart. Of triumph. Of justice served.
    With a bow, Derrick saluted the two women. He held out one forearm to the mother, one to the daughter. “May my family and I escort you ladies home?”

 
    Epilogue
     
    Sixteen months later
     
    Lady Eliza, Vicountess Trulington, stood on the cold quay in the near dawn, the clink of metal on the shifting docks, the water calm—a clear passage, the dockmaster had said of The Triumph’s voyage—her heart soaring, her infant son in her arms, her eyes on the shipas it made its way to the dock.
    Men lined the ship’s bow, men in uniform, some propped by others, but her eyes were on her husband, Derrick flanked by Ellingham and Trevor, Derrick’s gaze fierce on hers.
    The terror she’d felt when he’d gone a second time to war had eased when she’d received his letter, the letter arriving three weeks after the Battle of Waterloo, telling her he still lived. But rumors had abounded, of whom had survived, whom had not, some men’s names whispered as both, and it wasn’t until now, holding his gaze, did she let her heart feel joy.
    The man who’d saved her from a marriage worse than death.
    The man she loved with all her heart.
    She raised their swaddled son in the air for Derrick to see.
    ***
    Derrick stood at the