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Informationen zum Autor Alison Goodman Klappentext A Washington Post Best Mystery Novel of 2023 A high society amateur detective at the heart of Regency London uses her wits and invisibility as an ‘old maid’ to protect other women in a new and fiercely feminist historical mystery series from New York Times bestselling author Alison Goodman. Lady Augusta Colebrook, “Gus,” is determinedly unmarried, bored by society life, and tired of being dismissed at the age of forty-two. She and her twin sister, Julia, who is grieving her dead betrothed, need a distraction. One soon presents itself: to rescue their friend’s goddaughter, Caroline, from her violent husband. The sisters set out to Caroline’s country estate with a plan, but their carriage is accosted by a highwayman. In the scuffle, Gus accidentally shoots and injures the ruffian, only to discover he is Lord Evan Belford, an acquaintance from their past who was charged with murder and exiled to Australia twenty years ago. What follows is a high adventure full of danger, clever improvisation, heart-racing near misses, and a little help from a revived and rather charming Lord Evan. Back in London, Gus can’t stop thinking about her unlikely (not to mention handsome) comrade-in-arms. She is convinced Lord Evan was falsely accused of murder, and she is going to prove it. She persuades Julia to join her in a quest to help Lord Evan, and others in need—society be damned! And so begins the beguiling secret life and adventures of the Colebrook twins. Leseprobe 1 Saturday, June 6, 1812 We were to meet him at midnight in the Dark Walk. It was not an ideal arrangement: two unaccompanied women confronting a blackmailer in the most ill-lit, deserted part of Vauxhall Gardens. Still, I had come prepared-more or less. Now all we had to do was wait until the hour was upon us. I angled my pendant watch at the oil lamps hanging high in the branch above my head but could not make out the dainty face. The famous light show was near its end; the thousand or so colored lamps, strung in festoons around the trees and pavilions, had all begun to gutter. Well, for once my unladylike height would be an advantage. Raising myself onto tiptoes, I lifted the timepiece to the dying glow of the nearest lamp. Finally, a glint of gold hands: a quarter to midnight. I touched my sister's arm. She turned from watching the dancers silhouetted before the orchestra tower. "Already?" she asked over Mr. Handel's soaring music. "It is at least ten minutes to the Dark Walk." She drew her lilac shawl tightly around her shoulders. "Are you sure we should do this, Gussie? We cannot trust this man to keep his word, especially in such a lonely place. He could attack us." She was right. Mr. Harley had already proved himself dishonorable, and while the Dark Walk had a reputation as an illicit meeting place for lovers, it also had a grim history of assaults upon women, and sometimes even men. Nevertheless, I had promised Charlotte, Lady Davenport, that we would retrieve her letters as discreetly as possible. She had stood by us after the scandalous death of our father, so there had been no question that we would help her in return. Honor was not only the province of men, despite popular belief. I hefted my reticule up between us, the rock within stretching the knitted purse out of its pineapple shape. All in all one of my less successful knitting efforts, but at least it made a substantial weapon. My sister eyed it with misgiving. "We will end up transported to the colonies." "Nonsense. I doubt I will have to use it. He wants his payment; we want the letters. It will be a straightforward exchange." More to the point, I hoped I would not have to use it. The idea for the makeshift weapon had come to me very late-less than an hour before we left for the gardens-so I ...
