Death Comes to London

Outstanding praise for
Death Comes to the Village

An INDIE NEXT PICK!

“A Regency
Rear Window
whose chair-bound hero and the woman who civilizes him generate sparks worthy of Darcy and Elizabeth.”

—
Kirkus Reviews

“The unlikely pair persevere, forming an engaging partnership and promising much for the series. Lloyd combines a satisfying mystery with plenty of wit and character development.”

—
Booklist

“A skillfully crafted mystery . . . the details of village life lend authenticity to the story and the evolving relationship between Lucy and Major Kurland provides great entertainment.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“Sure to please lovers of English mysteries. The characters are vivid, the dialogue suggestive of Jane Austen, and the general tone absolutely charming. Kurland St. Mary is very much like what Christie’s St. Mary Mead must have been a century or so earlier, and Lucy Harrington has the snooping talents of a younger Miss Marple. The real mystery here is when Lloyd’s next novel in this series will come out. It can’t come too soon.”

—
BroadwayWorld.com

Books by Catherine Lloyd

DEATH COMES TO THE VILLAGE

DEATH COMES TO LONDON

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

D
EATH
C
OMES
TO
L
ONDON

CATHERINE
LLOYD

KENSINGTON BOOKS
www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

Outstanding praise for
Death Comes to the Village
Books by Catherine Lloyd
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Copyright Page

This one is for Dermot, my husband. Trust me,
he deserves a dedication in every book I write,
because he’s absolutely wonderful.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank Steven Broomfield, the honorary archivist from Horse Power, the Museum of The King’s Royal Hussars, in Winchester, England (
www.horsepowermuseum.co.uk
) for his help in dressing my hero appropriately in his uniform.

I also appreciate the experts of the Beau Monde special interest chapter of the RWA for answering questions about every aspect of Regency life.

Several people read through this manuscript prior to release, including Amanda Brice, Ruth Long, Sabrina Darby, Dayna Hart, and Sadie Haller. I’d like to thank them for their wisdom and patience in helping me move that dead body closer to the start of the book!

Finally, I’d like to mention that the Marsh test for detecting arsenic in a human body came slightly later than the date of this novel—in the 1830s—but Orfila, who is considered “the Father of Toxicology,” had his book published in 1813, which meant it was available in 1817 for Lucy to read.

Chapter 1

Kurland St. Mary, England
March 1817

I
t was a beautiful spring morning and Major Robert Kurland intended to enjoy it to the fullest. After breakfast he planned to take a turn around the home park with Simmons, his head gardener. It would be his first opportunity to discuss his plans without the loving interference of his aunt Rose, who had very particular ideas about what should be planted where, and often forgot whom the garden actually belonged to. Then in the afternoon, he was going to the home farm to discuss the more agricultural aspects of the Kurland estate with Mr. Pethridge.

For the first time in more than two years, Robert was almost content.

“Here’s the post for you, sir.”

“Thank you.” He glanced up as Foley, his butler, placed a silver tray with a pile of letters on it by his elbow. “Is there more coffee and some fresh toast?”

“Of course, Major. It’s good to see you eating so heartily again.” Foley offered him a fond smile. “Oh, and, sir, don’t forget that you have Mr. Thomas Fairfax coming for his interview at three o’clock this afternoon.”

Robert paused, the letter knife in his hand. “I had forgotten it was today.”

“I thought you might have, sir. I only remembered because as Mr. Fairfax was traveling down from the north, we offered him a room for the night. Mrs. Bloomfield was asking me which bedroom you wanted to put him in.”

“How would I know? One that’s clean, dry, and doesn’t have leaks in the ceiling will suffice.”

Foley looked pained. “All the bedrooms at the manor are up to the highest standard now, sir. It’s more a question of where will he
suit.
As your potential land agent, he might well be a gentleman, so it wouldn’t do to offer him a bed in the attics, now would it?”

Robert groaned. “Foley, put him wherever you like, but please try not to mention the subject to me again, would you?”

“As you wish, sir. You know you can trust my impeccable judgment in these matters.”

Foley left and Robert looked through his correspondence, which consisted of his usual monthly letter from Aunt Rose, and four or five bills from tradesmen pertaining to his spate of renovations to the manor house. He’d keep his aunt’s letter to read later, and pass the rest over to Miss Harrington to deal with in her usual efficient manner. Stacking the post in a neat pile, he hesitated. Miss Harrington wouldn’t be here for much longer to deal with anything. She’d gotten some foolish notion in her head about rushing off to London for the Season in search of a husband.

He snorted. She had no idea what she was letting herself in for. In his opinion London society could go hang. If he never had to return to the city he’d consider himself a lucky man. And what was wrong with Kurland St. Mary? It was a quiet, peaceful place where very little happened to disturb the rural way of life that had contented his ancestors for centuries.

He finished his coffee. Perhaps after the shocks of the previous year, Miss Harrington had a valid reason not to feel safe in her current environment. A few months in the chaos and filth of London would surely change her mind and bring her home. He would be willing to wager a large sum on it.

A buzz of noise made him lower his morning newspaper and turn toward the open door of the breakfast room. Foley was talking to someone female and excitable, which was never a good combination at this hour in the morning. After perusing the paper, he’d planned to walk along the terrace to ease the ache in his thigh and smoke one of the cigarillos Foley refused to allow him to enjoy in his own house.

He half-rose from his chair and grabbed his cane, but it was far too late to flee. He remained standing instead and tried to look agreeable.

“Miss Harrington and Miss Anna Harrington to see you, sir.” Foley bowed low. “I have your fresh coffee and toast. Shall I fetch some more cups?”

“Oh, yes,
please,
Foley,” Miss Anna said. “I’m quite thirsty after that walk.” She twirled around to face Robert, her beautiful face aglow. “I do hope you don’t mind us arriving while you are still at breakfast, Major, but we wanted to see you before we left.”

Robert nodded at Miss Anna and waited until she took a seat at the table before addressing her quieter companion.

“Good morning, Miss Harrington.”

“Major Kurland.”

When Miss Lucy Harrington turned toward him he suffered a small shock. She looked quite unlike herself in a new traveling outfit and a blue bonnet that he’d never seen before. He held out a chair for her. “Please be seated. I apologize for still being at the breakfast table.”

“We’re the ones who should be apologizing for calling so early.” Miss Harrington shot a fond glance at Anna, who was chatting to Foley. “But my sister could not be dissuaded from her plan.”

“I’m glad you both came. When are you leaving?”

“As soon as Sophia and Mrs. Hathaway arrive to collect us. We’re expecting them at noon.” Miss Harrington lowered her voice. “Are you sure you are going to be all right?”

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Harrington?”

“There’s no need to stiffen up, I wasn’t trying to imply anything, just that you still need a secretary, a valet,
and
a land agent, so you will be managing everything by yourself.”

“Despite your fears, I am quite capable. In fact, I have an interview today with a potential land agent.”

Her brow cleared. “Oh, yes, that’s right. Mr. Fairfax. He sounded quite satisfactory in his correspondence. I
do
hope you can get along with him.” She sighed. “I almost wish I could be here.”

“To interview him in my place?”

“You are rather impolite, Major.”

“I prefer to consider myself
direct.
In my opinion, if the man can’t stand up to me in an interview, he won’t be worth employing anyway.”

“You may have a point. He does have to work for you, after all.” She removed her gloves. “Betty, our housemaid, has an uncle who is looking for a position as a valet. Would you like me to ask for his references?”

“You might as well.” He sighed. “I’m finding it rather more difficult than I anticipated to replace my valet.”

“I’m sure Betty’s uncle will be perfectly suited to the task.”

“I’ll need to meet the man first.”

“Naturally. I’ll get his direction from Betty and write to him when I am settled in London.”

His good humor dissipated. “I wish you’d reconsider leaving Kurland St. Mary.”

“Why?”

“Because I”—he scowled down at his plate—“I’ve become used to the way you manage things around here.”

“You mean you appreciate having an unpaid drudge to do your bidding.”

“I don’t think of you as a drudge. You are far more useful than that.”

“I only offered to help you on a temporary basis until you hired a secretary of your own. As an unmarried woman, my presence in your house at all hours of the day and night is not acceptable.”

He frowned. “No one has said anything untoward to me about your being here.”

“Well, they wouldn’t, would they? Everyone is too in awe of you to dare to criticize a war hero.”

“You have been criticized?”

She looked away from him. “Yes, the majority opinion being that I have set my cap at you and am determined to be the new lady of the manor.”

“But that’s ridiculous.”

“Thank you.” She folded her gloves and placed them on the table. “That’s one of the reasons why I decided to go to London and seek my own husband.”

“Which means you might not come back at all.”

“I’m sorry, Major, but I cannot live my life for the benefit of every male of my acquaintance. The twins are settled at school, and Anthony is with your old regiment. If I don’t leave my father now, I am quite certain that I will never have the opportunity again.”

“So you’d rather be subject to the will of one man, your husband? I think you’ll find that harder than you imagine, Miss Harrington.”

“Not if I choose carefully.”

“By finding a spouse who is willing to let you have your way in everything?” He inclined his head an inch. “Good luck with that.”