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THE BROADCLOTH MIDNIGHT By Tracy Cooper-Posey

Adelaide Becket Story 5.0

Historical Suspense Espionage Novelette

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Lady Adelaide has had enough…

Lady Adelaide Azalea Margaret de Morville, Mrs. Hugh Becket, cannot sleep. After weeks of brooding about the severe drawbacks of her work for William Melville, spymaster, she travels through London at midnight to find Melville and tell him she will no longer work for him.

Instead, Adele finds herself in the company of Torin Slane, the Irish professor and Fenian, and Daniel Bannister, Baron Leighton, as they monitor the house of a possible German agent.

The company and conversation, and the events they witness in the house they are watching, prove illuminating for Adele and for Melville’s continuing search for a master German spy. This novelette is the fifth in the Adelaide Becket Edwardian espionage series.

The Adelaide Becket series.
1: The Requisite Courage
2: The Rosewater Debutante
3: The Unaccompanied Widow
4: The Lavender Semaphore
5: The Broadcloth Midnight
…and more to come.

An Edwardian Suspense Espionage series

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The Broadcloth Midnight
Average rating:  
 1 reviews
by Heather Baxter on The Broadcloth Midnight
Broadcloth Midnight

When I first started reading this book, I wasn't sure which way it was going to go. However as per usual Tracy never fails to amaze me with her writing. This book was written just like her other espionage thrillers.
I love the fact that even her characters don't always seem to know everything until they finally figure it out for themselves.

I just love Lady Adele a woman well before her time, but willing to get stuck in to make England a safer place.


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Excerpt

EXCERPT FROM THE BROADCLOTH MIDNIGHT
COPYRIGHT © TRACY COOPER-POSEY 2021
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

A squeak of floorboards said her knock had been heard. A key turned, and the door opened. It wavered, half-open, as the floorboards squeaked.

Adele pushed the door fully open, stepped in, then closed and locked the door behind her, before she turned to examine the attic itself. Two windows, both at chest height—for her, at least—and extending nearly to the roof, shed slanted beams of moonlight onto the bare floorboards beneath.

Torin Slane stood to the left of the farthest window, out of the way of the moonlight. He held the precious pair of binocular glasses in his hands, while he watched through the window. There was no other light in the room except for the moonlight, which made his Black Irish skin appear to glow, while the thick black curls of his hair and his even blacker eyes absorbed all the light.

He glanced at Adele as she locked the door. “I was expecting Melville.” His tone was mild.

“And good evening to you, too.” She moved to the other window as she removed her coat. She hung the coat from a nail driven into the wall beside the window. Slane’s coat hung on a second nail.

Adele hung the homburg on the nail over her own coat and rubbed at her forehead, for the hat was slightly too large and the ribbon left an indentation on her forehead that itched when she removed the hat.

She smoothed out the broadcloth jacket and straightened her tie, tucking it back into the waistcoat. The trousers were too large about the waist, which made her waist look thicker than normal. That was a good thing in her estimation.

“You look fetching,” Slane said dryly. He raised the glasses to his eyes and studied the garden and the houses opposite this one, sweeping slowly along the length of the open area.

“Melville said we shouldn’t be spotted entering the house more than once or twice.” She tugged at the lapels of her jacket. “No one has seen someone like me enter the house before.”

“Mmm.” Slane’s grunt failed to tell her if he agreed with her, or was upset at her wearing men’s clothing. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. Not that it would matter at bit, after tonight.


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