A Very Messy Business In Belgravia

Chapter One

Amalthea Huntley, Countess of Claremont, lifted a glass to her lips and took another sip of brandy, but her eyes never left the man sitting opposite, who was waiting silently for her to speak.  Eventually, she humoured him.

"I really do not see why you are so upset, Frederick.  You have never taken any interest in my personal life before, and I can't think of any reason why you would do so now."  She blinked innocently, but her dinner guest was having none of it.

"Don't give me that, Thea," he said.  "You know precisely why I'm annoyed.  You're the only girl, so obviously Father dotes on you, but don't expect the same from me."

Amalthea sighed heavily and leaned forward, her fingernails tapping against the glass in her hand.

"Shouldn't you be more focussed on your own private life?" she asked.  "You are newly married, after all, and you are the oldest child.  The weight of expectation must be immense."

"Don't change the subject," her brother exclaimed, angrily.  "We are talking about you and this preposterous state of affairs you have involved yourself in."

The young woman's back straightened.

"Goodness, Freddie, when you say it like that you make it sound as if I'm in the middle of some sort of sordid liaison, when nothing could be further from the truth."

Frederick had the good sense to look a little sheepish.

"You know that's not what I meant."  Still, he persisted.  "It hasn't even been fourteen months since Lord Claremont's passing, and yet here you are gallivanting about town labelling yourself as some sort of crime-solving genius."

"That's not fair, Freddie," Amalthea immediately retorted.  She raised an eyebrow.  "I certainly never said I was a genius."

The young man rubbed a hand over his face.  His sister really was incorrigible.

At twenty-two years old, in order to boost her family's struggling fortunes, a youthful Amalthea Waverley had fallen on her sword and married a man considerably older than her.  It had turned out to not be the worst decision she had made.  Henry Huntley, the Earl of Claremont, had been a kind and caring man, and the marriage, if devoid of love, had not been lacking in mutual affection.  Consequently, Amalthea was genuinely grieved when her husband had been suddenly taken from her by natural causes after less than two years of matrimony.

The pair had no children, so the earldom had passed to Henry's considerably younger brother.  To the young widow, though, it mattered little.

When she had left the family home, Amalthea had been a lively and vivacious young woman, eager to take on the world, albeit generally observant of societal norms and expectations.  Still, as her eldest brother, Frederick had hoped that her marriage to the older, dignified Lord Claremont would curb some of her more rebellious qualities.  However, to his great disappointment, that was not the case.  In fact, Amalthea's husband had indulged her even more than their father.

It turned out that Henry Huntley was thoroughly enchanted with his wife's adventurous spirit.  For a while, it had given him a new lease of life, and he was happy to allow the young woman to behave as she pleased.  After all, he was a very perceptive man, and he knew full well that there was no malice or callousness in her actions.  Nor was there ignorance.  Amalthea was a highly intelligent woman, and many of the couple's conversations after dinner in the evening had been enlightening for the both of them.  Eventually though, and in spite of himself, Henry had succeeded in curbing some of his wife's more overly enthusiastic tendencies purely through her exposure to his gentler temperament on a daily basis, but as far as Frederick was concerned, it had not gone far enough.