Lady Rosamund and the Poison Pen: A Rosie and McBrae Mystery
by Barbara Monajem
About Lady Rosamund and the Poison Pen:
A Rosie and McBrae Mystery
Lady Rosamund and the Poison Pen: A Rosie and McBrae Mystery
Historical Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Publisher: Level Best Books (April 21, 2020)
Paperback: 244 pages
ISBN-10: 1947915274
ISBN-13: 978-1947915275
Digital ASIN: B087BBLLNL
Lady Rosamund Phipps, daughter of an earl, has a secret. Well, more than one. Such as the fact that she’s so uninterested in sex that she married a man who promised to leave her alone and stick to his mistress. And a secret only her family knows—the mortifying compulsion to check things over and over. Society condemns people like her to asylums. But when she discovers the dead body of a footman on the stairs, everything she’s tried to hide for years may be spilled out in broad daylight.
First the anonymous caricaturist, Corvus, implicates Lady Rosamund in a series of scandalous prints. Worse, though, are the poison pen letters that indicate someone knows the shameful secret of her compulsions. She cannot do detective work on her own without seeming odder than she already is, but she has no choice if she is to unmask both Corvus and the poison pen.
Excerpt:
Nothing gets in
the way of an enjoyable meal quite as much as a tantrum.
I had just
finished a sustaining breakfast of ham, eggs, and plum cake when the front door
slammed, its echo reaching all the way to the breakfast parlor. My husband stormed
into the room. “Who the bloody hell is responsible for this?” He snapped a rolled-up
sheet of paper against his palm. His beak of a nose twitched in fury.
“Albert! What a
surprise,” I said brightly, recognizing the warning signs of a fit of temper.
“I thought you were at a meeting.”
“At which some
kind soul presented me with this…” He snarled, words evidently failing him, and
threw the offending paper down. “The broadsheets will make a laughingstock of
me.”
The lugubrious
countenance of our butler appeared in the doorway; no doubt assorted servants
hovered right behind. I shot him a look suggesting that they all make
themselves scarce, but Albert caught my glance and turned, roaring, “Go!” He
kicked the door shut.
Albert in a
tantrum is such a bore. However, in other ways he is a satisfactory spouse.
I unrolled the
paper and spread it on the table, setting various cups and bowls on the corners
to hold them down. It was a caricature which featured not so much Albert, but
me! I stood at the top of a staircase, a scowl on my face, in the act of
pushing a tall, handsome footman down the stairs. “What in heaven’s name?”
“By God, I’ll make
whoever did this pay!” Albert raged.
The caption read: The Desperate Wife Scorned. The doomed
footman was saying, “Sorry, mum, just can’t bring meself to do it.” His words
faded to a scream, while I said (to quote the caricaturist—let me make myself
clear), “I can’t even pay the help to t__ me!”
I burst into
laughter. I couldn’t help it. The entire notion was absurd, although the
portrait of Albert, off to the side with his monstrous nose in Cynthia’s magnificent
bosom, was delightfully accurate. Apart from the scowl and the lewd
implication, the portrait of me was quite flattering. No one had chosen to mock
me before. I suppose, being so ordinary, that I’m difficult to caricature.
Even more
interesting, this portrait was by no ordinary caricaturist, but by the artist
who had taken London by storm a year or so before. He signed himself Corvus
(which is Latin for ‘crow’) and so far no one had unmasked him. Whoever he was,
he knew a great deal of what went on in society, often behind closed doors, and
commented upon it most wittily. It was no small honor—and rather fun—to be
mocked by this mysterious man, or so I saw it.
“It’s not funny!”
yelled Albert. “How dare this—this Corvus person make a fool of me?”
I controlled my
whoops, since Albert was practically foaming at the mouth. I didn’t see why.
“It’s me he’s making fun of, not you.” Or at least not much. “If I don’t mind,
why should you?”
“You don’t mind
being accused of murder?”
“When you look at
it like that, I suppose it might be annoying, but it’s utterly absurd. Cynthia
and I are the best of friends. I encouraged her to continue to be your
mistress. I’m not the least bit desperate or scorned, as everyone
knows—everyone who matters, that is. As for those who don’t matter, who cares
what they believe?”
“It looks bad,”
Albert said. “It makes me look like a neglectful husband, and you an unstable
wife.”
By ordinary
standards, I suppose he is a neglectful husband, but I wouldn’t have it any
other way. As for unstable… Uneasiness prickled between my shoulders, but I
dismissed it as irrelevant; this caricature was not aimed at character flaws of
which only my family is aware. “No one will believe this nonsense. We’re both
well-respected, and no one faults you for having a mistress. Most well-off men
of our class do.”
“I have
ambitions,” Albert said. “I can’t afford to be a figure of fun.”
I sighed my
exasperation. “All politicians are made figures of fun sooner or later.” Even
my own father, a rather innocuous peer who now lives secluded in the North, was
singled out from time to time when he spoke up in the House of Lords. “One must
take it with a good grace and get on with life.”
He ran his hands
through his hair. Albert is proud of his thick head of hair, but what with all
the raving, it stuck out every which way. What a good thing the caricaturist
hadn’t seen him like this.
Who, I wondered
suddenly, was Corvus, and how did he know about the footman who had fallen down
the stairs?
About Barbara Monjem
Winner of the Holt Medallion, Maggie, Daphne du Maurier, Reviewer’s Choice and Epic awards, Barbara Monajem wrote her first story at eight years old about apple tree gnomes. She published a middle-grade fantasy when her children were young. When they grew up, she turned to writing for adults, first the Bayou Gavotte paranormal mysteries and then Regency romances with intrepid heroines and long-suffering heroes (or vice versa). Some of her Regencies have magic in them and some don’t (except for the magic of love, which is in every story she writes).
Barbara loves to cook, especially soups, and is an avid reader. There are only two items on her bucket list: to make asparagus pudding and succeed at knitting socks. She’ll manage the first but doubts she’ll ever accomplish the second. This is not a bid for immortality but merely the dismal truth. She lives near Atlanta, Georgia with an ever-shifting population of relatives, friends, and feline strays.
Author Links
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Thank you for featuring Lady Rosamund and the Poison Pen. :)
ReplyDeleteThis sounds like a fantastic read.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Terri. I'm glad it sounds appealing!
DeleteThank you for being part of the book tour for " Lady Rosamund an the Poison Pen" by Barbara Monajem.
ReplyDeleteCan't wait for the opportunity to read this book on my TBR list.
2clowns at arkansas dot net
I'm sure you'll get a chance to read it soon, Kay. :)
DeleteI love historical romances, but strangely I've never read a historical mystery. This looks really interesting and can't wait to start
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