Dr. Strickland sat forward. “You say you had some of that same brandy earlier, Colonel?”
“I did, a week ago. Apparently, the bottle was poisoned since last Friday. That means whoever did it had access to the house.”
“I had access to the house,” Dr. Strickland said to the room at large. “To the study, even. I met the Colonel there to set his broken bone.”
“And I have access to the house,” Mr. Vaughan said in his oddly monotone way. “But then, the locks here are easy enough to pick, if anyone was of a mind to break in. I know because I’ve picked them myself, practicing so I could get inside my dovecote.”
“That’s comforting,” Win said under his breath.
Lina looked from Win to Mr. Channing. “That could explain why Beauty was poisoned. If someone from outside the house wished to steal inside, it would be far easier to remain undetected without the gamekeeper’s dog patrolling the park.”
“Aye, that it would.”
Win frowned. “But why would anyone wish to poison me? Assuming I was the intended target, that is, though that seems a logical assumption under the circumstances.”
Your brother might want to poison you. Lina kept the thought to herself, since she doubted Win would thank her for voicing it, especially with Mr. Channing in the room. But she thought it just the same—If I were out of the way, and you were out of the way, your brother would be the next earl.
Freddie Vaughan’s thoughts, unfortunately, seemed to be running along equally suspicious lines. “Lady Radbourne might want to poison you,” he answered Win without looking at her. “To prevent you from poisoning her, I mean.”
“I’m not trying to poison her, Freddie,” Win said with a trace of asperity. “I’m not trying to poison anyone.”
“Neither am I.” Lina felt foolish, dignifying the suggestion with a reply—she hoped everyone, Win especially, found it as ridiculous as she did—but she had been in the house that week, and more than once. She still had Edward’s spare key to the back door of the stillroom too, the one he’d used whenever he wanted to slip out from beneath Sir John’s nose to raise a glass or two at the Radbourne Arms.
“It’s a shame we can’t employ a praegustator, as the Roman emperors did,” Mr. Vaughan mused. “He was a slave who tasted the emperor’s food to ensure it hadn’t been tampered with.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “Of course, that would only serve in the case of a quick-acting poison. I assume there are poisons that take a longer time to work, or require repeated ingestion. For all we know, we might already have consumed something lethal.”
Win shot a wry look in his brother’s direction. “Another comforting thought.”
Chapter Fourteen
Fortune, the great commandress of the world,
Hath divers ways to advance her followers:
To some she gives honour without deserving,
To other some, deserving without honour.
—George Chapman
When the clock struck midnight, the coroner still hadn’t arrived from Malton. Mrs. Channing had left an hour earlier, and Cassie had gone with her, accepting a ride in her carriage as far as the dower house. Sir John had left not long after. Since Frederick Vaughan had already excused himself and retired for the night—Win had meant what he said about his brother going to bed at exactly ten-thirty every night—that left only Lina, Win, Mr. Channing and Dr. Strickland to keep watch.
Despite Cassie’s departure, Lina had stayed for Win’s sake, both to be close to him and to provide whatever assistance she could. At a quarter after twelve, however, he caught her hiding a yawn.
“Lady Radbourne needs her rest,” he said to the other gentlemen. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve walked her home.”
Mr. Channing and Dr. Strickland traded a look, but neither objected.
When they reached the front hall, Win said, “Wait here with the porter just a moment, won’t you? There’s something I’d like to collect from my room before we set out.”
He raced up the stairs. When he returned, she gave him a questioning look.
He patted his pocket. “Overcoat pistol. I don’t expect to need it, but better to be safe than sorry.”
So Lina set out with Win, her cloak wrapped around her and the waxing moon shining down through the clear night sky. The air was cold but not biting. Despite the awful spectacle of Mr. Niven’s death and the strange events of the past week, Lina felt curiously unafraid with Win walking beside her.
“It may seem out of place to say this after all that’s happened,” Win told her as they crossed the park, “but I was glad you were there tonight.”
She loved the sound of his voice—warm, deep, but with a touch of humor. “I wish I’d had something helpful to contribute.”
“And I wish you hadn’t been subjected to such a distressing scene, but for my own selfish reasons, it was good to know there was someone else in the room besides Freddie who didn’t suspect me of being a killer.” He stole an uncertain glance at her. “You didn’t, did you?”
She answered without hesitation, shaking her head. “No, definitely not.”
“Good.” They strolled a little way in silence, and Win’s face turned thoughtful. “Before he died, Mr. Niven hinted that he’d had an accomplice in embezzling funds from the estate. I suspect the brandy in the study may have been poisoned to prevent me from investigating the financial irregularities. If the killer’s aim has been to keep the theft from coming to light, he may have decided to target you on the theory that if your son were to inherit, you might prove too observant.”
“And he may have decided to target you on similar grounds. You’re far too inquisitive—and, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, I doubt your brother would be half as vigilant in your place.”
“I follow your reasoning, though one can never be sure with Freddie. He’s always surprising me, both with the simple things that trip him up, and the difficult things that don’t.” Win threw a questioning glance in her direction. “After I asked you about the account books, you didn’t mention to anyone else that I was looking into the abbey finances, did you?”
“No, I’m quite sure I didn’t.”
“To the best of my recollection, I mentioned it to only two people—to you, and to Sir John Blessingame, at the Radbourne Arms on the day when I first met him.” He rubbed his jaw. “That was the same day someone pushed you into the path of the Royal Mail.”
“Sir John was close by at the time,” she reflected. “He knows the house and the grounds here too.”
“And he missed the evidence of Mr. Niven’s embezzlement for years—or else purposely turned a blind eye to it.”
Lina gazed before them in thought. “He makes a plausible suspect in some respects, but somehow I can’t see him as the killer. I’m hardly Sir John’s greatest admirer, but my chief complaint against him is also a point in his favor. He opposed my marriage to Edward for three years. If he wished to be rid of me, why not act before the wedding, instead of waiting until now?”
“I see what you mean. And something about his character doesn’t fit the furtive nature of the crimes. I realize this is pure conjecture, but the more I see of him, the more he strikes me as too blustering and confrontational to rely on poison.”
“Besides, there’s also the matter of the intruder at the dower house,” Lina pointed out. “Sir John is quite small for a man, even frail. I’m not sure he could break down a door.” She sighed. “Which all means we’re no closer to an answer, doesn’t it?”
“Never fear.” Win gave her a heartening look. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
She took his arm. “Please don’t add ‘or die trying.’”
“No.” He chuckled. “I’m quite determined to save us from that fate.”
Their breath made clouds in the frosty air. They strolled i
n companionable silence until they reached the edge of the mown parkland, where the woods began. But the trees no sooner enveloped them, screening them from view in case anyone should be watching from the house, than Win drew her to a stop.
He waited until she turned to face him. “You know, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do since almost the first moment you arrived at the abbey.”
She gazed up at his strong features. “What?”
Instead of answering, he pushed the hood of her cloak back. Doffing his hat, he slipped his good arm around her and pulled her against him. His mouth came down to meet hers.
They’d never before kissed standing up, and her first impression was how different and strangely thrilling it was to be held by a man of his size and strength. She had to tip her head back for his kiss. Her heart raced, wonder, joy and desire all mingling in an exhilarating surge of excitement.
It was a deep, passionate kiss. When they came up for air, he held her against him, his hat still in his hand and his arm about her. The top of her head just reached the bottom of his chin.
“I knew you wouldn’t have kissed me that night you came to my room if it hadn’t been for the laudanum,” he said, his voice husky. “But I wasn’t sure what made you want to do it at all. Were you merely grateful because I’d pushed you out of the horses’ path, did you pity me because I’d been injured, or was it something else entirely...? Then you seemed cooler when I came to dinner, and reluctant to trust me, and I decided I’d been flattering myself after all.” His arm tightened around her. “But now I’m convinced you feel it too—this connection between us.”
“Yes.” She nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I do. I didn’t want to, not when the feeling came on so unexpectedly and so soon after Edward’s death, but I can’t help it.”
Win tipped her chin up and kissed her again, fiercely this time. She opened her mouth, and his tongue sent a rush of heat through her. Dizzy with happiness and need, she teetered slightly. He tossed his hat to the ground and backed her up to a sweet chestnut, steadying her with her shoulders against the rough tree trunk.
She drew her fingers through his hair, through the unruly brown waves, and he made a sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a lusty growl.
There was something magical about being alone with him this way, outdoors in the silvery moonlight. The keen night air made every touch, every snap of a twig underfoot, every indrawn breath as sharp and clear as fine crystal. She looped her arms around his neck, straining up against him, pressing herself closer.
She had only kissed one other man in her life, and that was Edward. His kisses had been hasty and feverish, while Win’s were slow and stirring. A pang of remorse shot through her that she could think of poor Edward at such a time and in such a way, but when Win slid a warm hand inside her cloak and fondled her breast through her lutestring gown, the last of her reservations ebbed away.
His thumb teased the hardened peak of one nipple. Her breasts were fuller with pregnancy and more sensitive than ever before, but somehow he seemed to know what felt good. The tantalizing contact sent a hot shiver of need through her, direct to her very core.
Their tongues danced. Before long she was panting with excitement, pinned between the tree and Win’s strong, lean body. The thickness of their clothes couldn’t disguise the insistent length of his erection. She reached for the buttons of his pantaloons.
He drew back and set his hand on hers, stilling her busy fingers. “Wait. Are you sure you want this now, out here in the woods?”
She looked up into his gray eyes. She could say no. She’d said it hundreds of times to Edward before they married, and wished thousands of times that her mother had had the strength to say it to the men who’d waltzed in and out of her life. She had all the excuses she needed to turn him down—the late hour, the tragic events of the evening, the chilly outdoor setting.
But Lina wasn’t an innocent girl any more, and it wasn’t as if he could get her with child when she was already increasing. She’d had enough of caution and self-denial, enough of worry and mistrust. Good heavens, she’d been living in actual fear of her life for the last two weeks, and had seen a man die before her very eyes hours before. For once, she wanted to do something reckless and thrilling, something to make her feel fully alive, something for no other reason except to give and receive pleasure. “Yes. I want this. I want you. Now.”
She unbuttoned the fall of his pantaloons. He gave a barely audible sigh of satisfaction as she freed his erection.
She ought to at least pretend to possess a little modesty, but she couldn’t help it—she stared. A small sound escaped her, something that sounded embarrassingly like a whimper.
Meanwhile, Win’s hands roamed over her. “We must be insane,” he panted between kisses, “doing this out here.”
But he didn’t stop. Instead he drew up her skirts, gathering the rustling black silk in folds at her hip. His long fingers slipped to the slick and aching place between her thighs. The keen pleasure of his touch had her moaning into his mouth.
It had to be her condition. She didn’t care where they were, didn’t care that they were more dressed than undressed, didn’t care that things were moving so quickly. She’d never before been so eager to have a man inside her, never felt so ready or so free of doubt. Her hand closed around his erection, tugging him closer, positioning him at the entrance to her body. Then she pushed forward, sheathing him inside her.
“Mother of God.” He closed his eyes. “Give me some warning next time...”
Next time? She gave a joyful, lusty laugh.
Then he leaned in, countering with the whole rigid length of him, and her breath caught. He was so much taller than she was, he had to stand with his feet planted apart, while she was up on the balls of her feet, almost on tiptoe. The angle created a new and highly satisfying friction.
His hand slipped to the back of her thigh, and he hitched her leg up, her knee crooked at his hip. Supported against the tree, she clutched his broad shoulders, mindful at the same time of his broken arm. He began to move—long, deep strokes.
He made a low sound of pleasure. “Mmm...”
She tipped her head back. She was no longer the dignified and prudent creature she’d been all her life, no longer paralyzed by fears and what-ifs. They were like wild animals out here—like happy, heedless, healthy animals.
She’d reached the peak with Edward, but not every time, and the blissful feeling had never gathered so swiftly. It took her by surprise, concentrating for a breathless moment before it spiralled outward. Oh, yes. A cry of ecstasy forced its way up from somewhere deep inside her.
She was still awash in the sensation when she became conscious again of Win watching her, on his face a look of lustful intensity. “And I thought you were beautiful before...”
She lowered the leg that had been crooked at his hip. Why had he stopped? She had the sense he’d been holding back, keeping himself in check because he was a big man and she was a small woman. Standing on both feet now, she dropped her hands to his backside and pulled him closer, no less eager despite the bone-melting satisfaction she’d just experienced. “Go faster,” she said. “Harder.”
“Yes.” He obliged her at once, bracing his good arm against the tree behind her, putting his back into it, rocking her off her feet slightly with every thrust.
Soon his strong features twisted in a grimace of pleasure. “Oh, God,” he choked, surging against her. He pulsed deep inside her for several long, thrilling seconds, groaning out his pleasure. She kept her arms looped around his neck, sharing the experience with him, still breathless with her own release.
He stood over her, panting, head bowed, until he seemed to recollect himself. Then he straightened—well, straightened as much as his height and wide stance allowed—drew her close, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
>
They both gave a satisfied sigh at the same moment.
He reached into his breast pocket for his handkerchief. “You’re going to need this,” he said, handing it to her with a sheepish look. “It’s been rather a while.”
He withdrew carefully. While she tidied up and shook her skirts back into place, he set to work tucking in his shirttails and buttoning the fall of his pantaloons—not an easy task to perform with one arm in a sling, but she resisted the urge to help him, as he seemed the last sort of man who wished to be coddled. Once they had their clothes back in order, he held out his hand with a look of invitation. She returned his handkerchief, and he gingerly tucked it back into his pocket.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said, bending to pick up his hat. “I’m glad it did, but when I kissed you I wasn’t expecting—”
“I believe you.” Suddenly self-conscious, she started toward the dower house, and he fell into step alongside her. “I didn’t expect it either. Despite what people like Sir John and Mr. Channing might think of me, I’ve never done anything like that before. In all my life I’ve only been with one other man, and that was—”
“You don’t have to say it. I already told you I knew Mr. Channing was wrong in his opinion of you, and the same goes for Sir John. I realize this isn’t something you take lightly.”
In the afterglow of their lovemaking, she felt warm and buoyed by euphoria. Up until now, Lina had never really understood her mother, or the choices she’d made. Now she understood. Perhaps physical attraction was akin to a chemical reaction, like the influence of the hydrocyanic acid Dr. Strickland had talked about. When it was weak, its effects were slight and easily overcome—but when it was strong, there was nothing anyone could do to stop it, and its power quite took one’s breath away.
She hugged her hands to her chest, more out of suppressed joy than because the night air had left her chilled. She’d passed the day in a state of mild dread, knowing she’d be dining with Mr. Niven, Mr. Channing and Sir John. Even so, she’d never expected an outright tragedy like Mr. Niven’s poisoning. Most of the evening had been a succession of disasters.
An Heir of Uncertainty Page 20
