The only
thing worse than a persistent suitor? A dead one on your lawn.
About the Book:
London,
1892. Alice,
Duchess of Stortford, has returned to town determined to enjoy her first Season
as a wealthy widow. But instead of balls, flirtation, and whispered gossip, she
finds herself besieged by ambitious bachelors—none more persistent than the
insufferably smooth-talking Miles Fonthill. When Alice firmly refuses his
sudden proposal, she assumes the matter is settled.
Instead, he
turns up dead in her garden.
The police
are happy to call it a tragic accident. Alice is less convinced.
Why was
Miles climbing over her garden wall in the middle of the night? Why had he
become so determined to win her favour? And what did he really want?
As Alice
begins to dig into Miles’ final days, her search leads her into the glittering
heart of London society, where old loyalties run deep, secrets are guarded
fiercely, and reputation matters more than truth. But when whispers of the
mysterious Order of the Golden Key begin circling dangerously close to her own
late husband’s name, Alice realises this death may be far more complicated than
one unwelcome suitor meeting an unfortunate end.
And if
someone is willing to kill to keep their secrets…this Season may prove
positively deadly.
Perfect for
fans of feisty female sleuths, Victorian High Society, and secret scandals, all
served with a dash of humour and a cup of tea.
Intro
Alice, Duchess of Stortford, receives
an unexpected summons from the famous Sherlock Holmes. What begins as a simple
conversation soon leads to a warning about a secret organisation known as the
Order of the Golden Key—and a caution that Alice may be attracting attention
from the wrong people. …
Extract
Holmes watched her carefully. “Tell me, Your Grace… What do you know
of an organisation called the Order of the Golden Key?”
“I know very little, I’m afraid. I found a badge for them in my
husband’s possessions after he died. I had no idea what it was at the time.”
Holmes leaned forwards slightly. “And now?”
“And now... I know only a small amount more. Last November, I saw
another such badge at Lawrence House. It had belonged to the late Earl of
Romley.”
“Did it, indeed?” Holmes’ eyes gleamed with interest.
Alice nodded. “His son, Frederick—the current earl—has it now. He’s
the one who told me what organisation the badge represents, although he claims
his father was a member while he himself has not been approached to join.”
“I take it then that you have continued to take an interest in the
badge?”
She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt. “I cannot determine
whether my husband was a member… or merely had the badge as Lord Romley
does—through inheritance—or even through coincidence. If he was a member, Mr
Holmes, he never mentioned it to me. Baxter—Lord Rushton, that is—has been
making discreet enquiries on my behalf about the Order, but no one seems
willing to speak openly about it.”
Holmes’ fingers tapped once against the arm of his chair. “That
doesn’t surprise me. Its members value discretion above all else.”
Alice hesitated. “I’ve been assuming it’s merely another gentlemen’s
club.”
Holmes’ gaze did not flicker. “It’s not a social club in the usual
sense, Your Grace.”
“What is it then?” Alice pressed, intrigued.
“I cannot say more at present. My investigation is at a delicate
stage.” His tone made it clear he would not elaborate. “However, I would
suggest that you advise Lord Rushton to cease his enquiries. He will learn
nothing of value but may attract unwanted attention by asking.”
The warning sent a small shiver down Alice’s spine. For a moment, it
made her feel more determined than ever to discover more about this mysterious
organisation. If Holmes and others were being so secretive, surely there was
something significant to uncover?
But then she caught herself.
She’d enough to contend with—dodging marriage-seeking men and
maintaining her position in society as a young widow. She’d no time to delve into
an organisation that she’d no real connection to and no reason to involve
herself with. But why had Holmes asked her about the Order in the first place?
“I’m curious to know why you asked me about the Order when you clearly know a
lot more about it than I do.”
Holmes regarded her steadily. “Because,” he said, “I have reason to
believe your late husband was a member.”
So Vance was a member, after all…
“I discovered that fact in the course of my own work,” he continued.
“My investigation is not connected to your husband nor does it concern his
death. However, when his name surfaced, it occurred to me that you might
possess information of which you were unaware—papers, correspondence,
observations that seemed inconsequential at the time.”
Alice’s thoughts flicked at once to Vance’s possessions. She’d been
through all his papers with either her brother, Duncan, or her steward. “I
found nothing.”
“When I heard Lord Rushton was asking questions, and given your
association with him, I concluded that the enquiries originated with you. I
wished to establish whether your interest was prompted by knowledge or by the
absence of it.”
Definitely the latter!
Alice shook her head. “My husband kept his secrets well, it would
appear, Mr Holmes.”
“I advise caution, Your Grace.
Curiosity invites attention. And attention in certain quarters is rarely
benign.”
Alice nodded slowly. She understood now what he was offering her: not
answers but a warning that she stood just outside something she didn’t yet
understand. “I will ask Lord Rushton to stop,” she said.
Holmes’ expression softened. “That would be wise.” He sprang up from
his chair. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace. Thank you for
coming.”
She rose, then followed him towards the door. “It was a pleasure,”
she said automatically, although she wasn’t sure if that were true. It was
unsettling to realise that what she didn’t know had been the most valuable
thing she could offer him.
As he followed her to the door, a thin smile crossed his lean face.
“You seem to be attracting quite a lot of attention from London’s most eligible
bachelors this Season, Your Grace.”
A flicker of irritation coursed through her. Even here, in this
sanctuary of logic and deduction, she couldn’t escape the tiresome subject of
her marital prospects. “Yes, well, apparently, being a wealthy widow of
reasonable appearance makes one very sought after.” She couldn’t keep the edge
from her voice. “I do wish they would stop behaving as if I were a horse at
Tattersall’s.”
At least a horse is permitted to bite!
“Although, I must confess, it’s also a tad intoxicating,” she
admitted to Holmes. “It gives a woman a sense of power, does it not? To watch
grown men go to great lengths to gain her approval.”
Holmes’ eyes glinted. “But you have no intention of giving it unless
it suits you, I assume?”
She shook her head. “It’s my stubborn streak, I fear,” she said
lightly.
“Stubborn implies resistance without purpose.” Holmes leaned back,
his attention still fixed. “You choose. That’s not stubbornness. That’s
intention.”
Her pulse gave a ridiculous little leap. “And yet,” she said, forcing
herself to keep her tone airy, “society seems determined to treat my choices as
temporary… lapses. As if I shall eventually come to my senses and accept
whichever gentleman persists the longest.”
Holmes’ mouth curved faintly. “Persistence thrives on uncertainty.
Remove that, and even the most determined gentleman will eventually understand
the limits of his hopes.”
He was right, of course. But then where is the fun in that?
They had reached the door. He stopped and gave her a small bow, then
added, “If I may offer one further piece of advice?”
Alice paused, her hand part-way in her glove. “Yes?”
“Continue to be cautious about marrying again too soon.”
Alice blinked. “Why?”
Holmes’ expression remained unreadable. “Because haste is often
encouraged by those who stand to benefit the most from it.”
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About Helen Golden:
Helen Golden
spins mysteries that are charmingly British, delightfully deadly, and served
with a twist of humour.
With quirky
characters, clever red herrings, and plots that keep the pages turning, she’s
the author of the much-loved A Right Royal Cozy Investigation series,
following Lady Beatrice and her friends—including one clever little dog—as they
uncover secrets hidden in country houses and royal palaces. Her new historical
mystery series, The Duchess of Stortford Mysteries, is set in Victorian
England and introduces an equally curious sleuth from Lady Beatrice’s own
family tree—where murders are solved over cups of tea, whispered gossip, and
overheard conversations in drawing rooms and grand estates.
Helen lives in a
quintessential English village in Lincolnshire with her husband, stepdaughter,
and a menagerie of pets—including a dog, several cats, a tortoise, and far too
many fish.
If you love
clever puzzles, charming settings, and sleuths with spark, her books are
waiting for you.
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