By Caro Peacock
Duelling, derring-do, and dastardly deeds are all in a day's paintings for Liberty Lane: the plucky heroine for fanatics of Georgette Heyer and Sarah Waters's Victorian novels. London. summer season 1839. And the temperature is emerging as Liberty Lane takes on her strangest case but. Deranged aristocrat Lord Brinkburn is nearing loss of life and his elder son, Stephen, is looking ahead to to inherit the name. yet girl Brinkburn's surprising assertion that Stephen is unlawful throws the relations into turmoil. Tensions succeed in boiling aspect among the 2 brothers, one in every of whom stands to achieve every thing, they usually come to blows in public - a lot to the leisure of London Society. Liberty is engaged privately to get to the reality of the problem, yet a macabre homicide increases the stakes considerably!added to which she reveals her personal judgement being undermined by way of the beguiling woman Brinkburn. She is barely too acutely aware that point is operating out - one of many brothers might be subsequent, yet so that it will it be!?
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Additional info for A Corpse in Shining Armour
Skilfully, she managed to keep the food and wine but lose the gentleman, and found us two chairs on our own. She forked up poached salmon with eager appetite. ’ She glanced at my ring finger. I shook my head. She gave a disappointed pout. ‘I was sure you would be by now. ’ I laughed. ’ I shook my head and forked up salmon. She looked into my face. ’ ‘Not at all. I’m glad of it. ’ She put down her fork and touched the inside of my wrist. ‘My dear, I admire you for putting a brave face on things.
I said. ‘Oh, my dear, where have you been? She’s positively the Beauty of the season. Just come over from Dublin, or everyone would have known about her long before. Just look at those eyebrows. ’ They were two flawless arches; her lips, equally flawless, could have come from a classical statue. I looked and puzzled about this question of beauty. In my opinion, Celia was at least equally beautiful, and there were several other women in the room of whom you could say the same. And yet they were staring at Rosa Fitzwilliam without envy, as if she came from another planet and they could not be expected to compete.
If I’d wanted to meet her again, it could have been arranged easily enough, but I was scared of the feelings that meeting her might bring back. There was no help for it now, though. When the music finished at last, she was waiting at the end of my row. ‘Elizabeth! ’ She’d first known me under an assumed name, and although I’d told her my real one she’d never managed to remember it. The soft lisp was still there in her voice, the grace in the way she moved. She was wearing pale apricot silk with a wide sash in a darker tone.
A Corpse in Shining Armour by Caro Peacock
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