Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage]

by What to Wear to a Seduction

  “The cocoa did taste a little odd,” Edwina muttered. “Oooh…”

  Setting his cane down and leaning on it with both hands, Sir Lee nodded. “Which bolsters my conclusion that Lady Ross has been poisoned. In her cocoa, this morning. Intentionally.”

  Prescott blinked as his brain scrambled to make sense of this. Had the blackmailer discovered their plans? But Edwina hadn’t done anything. And the only people whose rooms that they’d searched had been Lord Cunningham’s and Sir Lee’s…

  “If you’re behind this!” Prescott growled at the old man.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Sir Lee waved him off. “Why would I tell you that I believe she’d been poisoned if I’d done it? Besides, I bear no ill will toward Lady Ross. Someone else, however, obviously does.”

  Prescott couldn’t dispute the logic of Sir Lee’s argument, all he knew was that he wanted to hurt someone, and badly.

  “Who would want to harm Edwina?” Ginny clutched her fist to her mouth. “If I’m somehow—”

  His gaze caught Ginny’s and Prescott reached over and squeezed her hand. “We don’t know that any such thing has happened. Or why. So let us not jump to conclusions too quickly. Or lay blame.” It’s certainly not your fault, he hoped his eyes conveyed.

  “I have to disagree with Sir Lee,” Lady Kendrick stepped around the tree to join the old gent. “I cannot see it as poison. It’s just too far-fetched. Too impossible to believe.”

  Sir Lee dipped his head. “I am confident in my conclusion.”

  “She might have simply caught something, and stomach ailments are most foul.”

  “Call for the doctor, Lady Kendrick,” Ginny begged. “We must do all we can for Edwina.”

  Lady Kendrick moved toward the house. “I will do so at once.”

  “Wait!” Prescott cried. “There was a maid in Edwina’s rooms! I think she drank some of Edwina’s cocoa. If she’s sick, then we’ll know!”

  “Good thinking, my boy!” Sir Lee nodded approvingly. “If the maid is ill and they both drank from the same cocoa, then we will know with a considerable amount of certainty if poisoned cocoa was the cause. Let us hurry to the house and find out if I’m right.”

  “You go ahead, I’m staying with Edwina.” Prescott reached beneath her and gently lifted her in his arms. She felt like a rag doll, she was so limp, and his heart fluttered with concern. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “Just let me know whenever you need to stop, darling.”

  Her eyes welled up with tears. “What if I don’t tell you early enough? What if I—”

  “I don’t care, Edwina. We’ll just do the best we can.”

  Slowly, she nodded, laying her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Prescott.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m only taking a stroll, you’re the one who’s doing all the work.”

  Then Prescott took the longest walk of his life.

  Chapter 30

  “I’m going to kill that conniving, vicious, oh, she doesn’t deserve to be called lady, Pomfry,” Janelle ground out, as she leaned over Edwina’s still body on the bed. “Pull every hair from her head, grind her eyes out, make her eat dirt…”

  Standing next to Janelle, Ginny raised a sodden handkerchief to her eyes. “I still can’t believe Lady Pomfry actually poisoned Edwina. What kind of hateful person does such a thing? And to employ servants to do her dirty deeds…”

  Janelle nodded. “That footman she bribed to poison Edwina’s cocoa ought to be hanged. Thank the heavens, Sir Lee, you were here to interrogate the man, so we could learn the truth of it.”

  Ginny turned to Sir Lee standing by the window. “Do you believe, as the man claims, that he didn’t know what was in the draught?”

  “What difference does it make?” Prescott growled as he paced alongside Edwina’s bed, fairly plowing a rut in the carpet with each turn. “It was wrong and he could have killed her!”

  Ginny wrung her hands. “We must count our blessings that Edwina didn’t drink the entire mug. And that poor maid…Lady Kendrick says she’s sick as a dog.”

  “Serves her right for sneaking from Edwina’s cocoa,” Janelle declared.

  Leaning on his gold-topped cane, Sir Lee tilted his head. “If it weren’t for her, we wouldn’t have known for certain that it was poison. And that the trail led right to Lady Pomfry.”

  For the thousandth time Prescott hovered over Edwina, seeking some semblance of reassurance that she was all right. This past hour had been the longest hour of his life, as he’d watched Edwina gag and choke so that his heart wrenched with agony for her suffering. Now, spent and exhausted, Edwina lay still in the bed, deathly pale, her closed eyes hosting a halo of red spots from all of the retching.

  “She’s sleeping, finally,” Ginny murmured. “I think the worst of it has passed.”

  Whipping his coat off of the chair where he’d laid it an hour before, Prescott declared, “I’m going after Daphne. She can’t have gotten far.”

  “Why go after her?” Sir Lee demanded. “What good will it do, now?”

  “What if it’s not antimony pills? What if it’s something else? What if Daphne has an antidote? With a fast horse I can overtake her. Get whatever we need from her.”

  Sir Lee’s eyes narrowed. “If I can have a word with you outside, Mr. Devane.”

  “You’ll not stop me!” Prescott moved to step around the man, but Sir Lee was swifter than he looked.

  The old gent laid his hand on Prescott’s arm. “I’ll have that word, if you please!”

  “Fine.” Prescott shook the man off under the guise of adjusting his coat sleeves. “But only a moment. Then I’m going after her!”

  Out in the hallway, Sir Lee wheeled to face him, standing close. “You’ll stay here, Mr. Devane, where your lady needs you.”

  “There’s nothing I can do here! There, at least, I can be of some help!”

  “There is no antidote, other than time.”

  “Daphne must know something! She can confirm that it was the salts! She can…she can…”

  “Pay?”

  Prescott wrapped his anger around him like a welcome mantle. Anything was better than the impotent torment of watching Edwina suffer. “Why not? She should. Anyone who would hurt Edwina…”

  “Do you really believe that you could harm Lady Pomfry? Teach her the error of her ways?”

  “I certainly want to.”

  “But can you? Can you raise a hand to a lady, one you obviously, at some point in time, were fond of?”

  Prescott wanted to say “yes,” but the word was stuck in his throat. He wanted to exact righteous vengeance on the person who harmed the woman of his heart, but he had to be honest with himself.

  Curling his fists, Prescott gritted his teeth. “I don’t…know. Probably not. But I know I must confront her. I cannot let things lie—”

  “Better to leave her to the authorities—”

  “Oh, they’ll have her, I’ll ensure! She’s not getting away with this!” He squared his shoulders, his resolve fixed once more. He might not be capable of violence against Daphne, but she didn’t know that, and a good scare certainly wouldn’t hurt. At least he’d find out what she used to poison Edwina. “Now your minute is up, sir, and I will be on my way.”

  “I cannot let you go, Mr. Devane. I cannot watch you make a grave mistake. You see, poisons can be fatal. I am hopeful that Lady Ross expelled the salts in time, but one cannot know until the victim either recovers or dies.”

  The anxiety constricting Prescott’s chest tightened so that he could hardly breathe. “How can you speak so calmly about Edwina’s demise?”

  “I am all too familiar with death, I’m afraid.”

  “And poisons? Are you familiar with those as well?”

  “What I do know is how poisons work and, regrettably, their consequences.”

  “So you know why I have to go. Why I have to find out if there’s any hope…any antidote…”

  “What I know, Mr. Devane, is that ther
e are others who can hunt down Lady Pomfry. Others who can make her pay for her crime. But there is no one else who can comfort Lady Ross like you can.”

  “But…”

  “Look, Mr. Devane, I know that you and Lady Ross are not really engaged.”

  “What…?”

  “Janelle, Lady Blankett, confided in me about your fake engagement to Lady Ross and the reason for it.”

  His shock must have shown on his face, for Sir Lee rushed on, “I tend to inspire confidences, so don’t blame her, and she simply needed someone to talk to about her concerns. She felt that I could be trusted, which, of course, I can. I shall not say a word. But that aside, although you and Lady Ross aren’t truly betrothed, I can see how much you care for one another. No one else’s presence will ease Lady Ross’s suffering like yours. And no one else would regret it more than you if she dies without you being by her side.”

  The old gent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and he swallowed. Sadness filled his green gaze and his craggy face drooped like a deflated balloon. “I have more than my share of regrets, Mr. Devane, but that, by far, is the worst. I shall not see you suffer it if there’s anything I can do to stop it.”

  Unbidden, the memory of Headmaster Dunn swept over Prescott, and grief pierced his heart. The larger-than-life headmaster could have been standing before him, for his sentiments would have been the same as Sir Lee’s. He would have given the identical counsel, would have spoken with similar concern for Prescott’s well-being.

  The ache of his recent loss dissolved Prescott’s anger, leaving only the fear that ate at him like a parasite. “I can’t lose her,” he whispered as his vision swam with tears. “I only just found her…” Being with Edwina had alleviated his grief, made him not feel so wretchedly alone. Losing her would just be too much…

  Dropping his face into his hands, sorrow and anxiety and pain sliced through him. “I don’t want to be…I just can’t…”

  Sir Lee draped his arm across Prescott’s shoulders. “I know you can’t lose her, son. You love her.”

  Love her? Prescott looked up, about to argue, but the words would not come. Do I? Does what I feel for Edwina amount to love?

  He certainly admired her, immensely. She had an amazing ability to inspire him and move him. And her influence did motivate him to be a better man, to be a more considerate person. And when he was with her, he didn’t feel like “the great pretender,” but was accepted for himself. He didn’t have to mask his feelings, but felt free from judgment. Could that be…was that love?

  She made him feel as if he had a dear advocate who cared for him and his well-being. As if he had a partner on his side. Someone who knew who he was and was all right with that. That, because of her, he wasn’t so terribly alone. But was that love?

  Indeed, she garnered an astonishing feeling of rightness within him. When they kissed, touched, he felt connected, whole.

  And he definitely looked forward to seeing her, couldn’t wait to share things with her, wanted to be with her as much as possible, and enjoyed every moment they were together…

  With Edwina, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like a rudderless ship, adrift in an inconsistent current without a harbor to claim. He felt like he was wanted, like he had a home.

  The truth smacked him in the head so hard, he saw stars.

  “I…I do love Edwina. I really do.”

  “So go to her. Leave everything else to me. I will contact the authorities. I will ensure that this terrible deed does not go unpunished. You be where you’re needed most, by Lady Ross’s side.”

  Prescott nodded, wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. “If love means falling to pieces, then I don’t know that I can endure it.”

  “You can if you have a good woman by your side.” Sir Lee stepped away. “It makes everything more supportable.”

  Prescott straightened, struck by a horrible fear, very different from Edwina dying, but equally as terrifying. “What if she doesn’t love me back? What if my feelings aren’t reciprocated? I have nothing to offer a fine lady like Edwina. No purse, no title…I don’t even have my own name!”

  Sir Lee shook his fist. “You fight for her, son. Devanes are fighters and given name or no, you are now a Devane. You will fight until you are damned and bloodied if you must, but you must fight for her! Or you’re not the man that I believe you to be.”

  “Fight for her? What does that mean?”

  “Declare your intentions. Make your feelings known. Let her appreciate all that you are willing to do for her, for your future. Make what was a pretense something real.”

  “Are you…speaking of marriage?”

  “Of course! To what else would I be referring?”

  A hodgepodge of emotions swept through Prescott. Hope, fear, an uneasiness about the man he’d always considered himself to be and who he felt like at this moment. “I…I don’t know…I’ve never thought that I would marry…”

  “Not marry? Why in the blazes not?”

  “I don’t exactly have encouraging feelings about the parson’s mousetrap, sir. My parents’ experience was less than pleasant.”

  “But you don’t have to repeat their mistakes.”

  The irony was not lost on him: marrying Edwina would be an exact repetition of his parents’ mistakes. It had all of the makings of a play, a tragedy, of course; fine lady of noble family marries beneath her and comes to regret it. For undoubtedly her family would disapprove, hence a host of familial censure and heartache. In the second act the heroine shuns her unworthy husband and then dramatically dies from disappointment. Well, disappointment mixed with typhus. In the final installment, the child of that ill-fated marriage repeats the same mistakes all over again. The curtain falls and the theatre house is dark.

  Prescott’s mind reared away from the disturbing memories, as suddenly a glimmer of hope sparked inside of him. Perhaps it could be different if they simply didn’t marry. If they remained lovers and only that? Then her family might not object so terribly. People had been known to have wonderful, caring, happy relationships for years without the blessing of a cleric. Perhaps they could, too.

  The lines around Sir Lee’s mouth deepened into a scowl, as his canny eyes fixed on Prescott. “And you must marry if you are to bring children into this world. You must give them your name.”

  Children. With Edwina. His heart skipped a beat. It was a dream beyond all expectation. To have such a joyous connection with Edwina. An amazing bond between them, and the wonder of bringing a child up together. To give a child the love and caring and support…

  The door slammed closed on Prescott’s dreams so hard, he could almost feel its jarring boom. He had little enough to offer Edwina, he would not condemn a child to a life of “less thans.” The disapproval and rejection by all family. The censure by society. The nightmare of watching the separation between the parents as the pressures of life bore down upon them.

  “No.” He shook his head. “No children.”

  “You would be a good father, Mr. Devane,” Sir Lee urged. “I have seen how you deal with others, your caring and consideration for Lady Ross. And Lady Ross would be a wonderful—”

  “Of course she would,” Prescott interrupted. “That’s not the point! Hell, I don’t even have a home to call my own. I certainly can’t have a child. It would be irresponsible. And I will not condemn a child to a life of heartache.”

  “Like you had?” Sir Lee offered softly.

  “I would not have a child suffer it, not for all the gold in Cairo.”

  Ginny poked her head out into the hallway. “Oh, I’m so glad you haven’t left yet! She’s calling for you, Prescott. Edwina wants you.”

  She wanted him. Needed him. And he would go to her. Stay with her as long as possible. Love her as long as she was willing to let him.

  He would give her everything, including saving her from sharing his unworthy name.

  Resolve settled upon him and he turned to Sir Lee. “Thank you for yo
ur wise counsel, sir. I am in your debt.”

  “But—”

  “I must go.”

  Shaking his head, Sir Lee waved him off. “Of course, go to her, she needs you. But please bear witness that one day I may call in that debt.”

  “As is your right,” Prescott called over his shoulder as he strode into Edwina’s chambers.

  “Nay,” the old gent whispered to the now-empty hallway. “It is my duty.”

  Chapter 31

  The next afternoon, Edwina and Prescott sat in the large armchairs in the salon in her chambers.

  “Ugh.” Edwina wrinkled her nose at the musty-smelling liquid in the mug Prescott held out to her. “I don’t like barley water.”

  “Stop complaining and drink.” Prescott pressed the cup into her hands and then reclined in the chair across from her.

  Today he wore a hunter green coat that made his eyes appear more jade than emerald. Every time the sun shining in through the open window flickered in his gaze, her breath caught. He was so handsome and so astoundingly attentive. When she began this ruse she never would have imagined how dear he would become to her.

  His hair was loose, without pomade and uncovered, the way she liked it, and she had to wrap her hands around the mug to keep from reaching out to brush them through his coppery brown mane.

  But she kept her hands to herself, worried that Prescott might not be interested in her that way any longer. The specter of Sir Geoffrey’s disgust hovered over her like a foul vapor, along with something that her cousin Henry had once told her. Henry had said that husbands were kept out of their wife’s birthing chambers because a man wouldn’t be able to touch his wife ever again after seeing her in such a wretched state. Edwina feared that the same concept might apply to her ghastly bout with antimony salts and Prescott.