“Damn you, Ann, I love her!”
“How can you possibly love a person you’ve known for less than a day? You do not love her, Nicolas. You desire her, just as you desired Sicily. Your behavior is the same, only the women are different. This time you actually chose a young lady who would have made you an excellent wife. However, you are not in any position to offer marriage, since you still have a first wife who will either kill you with poison or get you back under her thrall.”
“That is not the way this will end.”
“And how will you stop it? The arsenic depresses your libido which has allowed you to regain your sanity. If you stop taking the arsenic, your libido will return, and you will fall once again under her thrall. There is no hope for you, Nicolas. If this is the battle plan you take to war, you have lost before you have begun. If you choose to proceed with this course then my recommendation is to straighten your affairs, do right by Amy, and pension off any loyal servants you have. Do not divorce Sicily and leave her with as much debt as you can, so she at least will not profit further by your murder.”
He grimaced as if her words hurt his head. “Do you have a better plan?”
“I already gave you a better plan.”
“I cannot kill my wife.” He then looked up with hope. “I will divorce her.”
“Sicily will never let you live long enough to divorce her. Trust me, Nicolas, the moment she thinks you are going in that direction, you will be dead by nightfall. It only takes a few pounds to hire men to do the work, and she knows hundreds of them from all those years she sat upon her father’s knee.
“I cannot kill my wife!”
“I see. You can steal from your ward and seduce an innocent virgin who resides in your home, but you cannot get rid of a woman who has destroyed an honorable family dynasty that has extended back to the twelfth century. For when she kills you, Nicolas, the dynasty stops. There are no viable heirs. You were John’s last hope, and I thank God that he cannot see the man you’ve become. He could not have loved you more if you had been his own son. And he was so proud of you.” She scowled at the man before her. “He would not be proud of you now.”
“You think killing my wife would make him proud of me?” Nicolas challenged.
“He was a soldier. He understood that sometimes the enemy has to die in battle. The death would not make him proud, but your courage in battle might—if you had any—but I’ve lost all hope that is the case.”
She rose to leave, and Nicolas rose as well. “Ann, I need to speak to Domnika and Amy before I leave.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ann, please. If you are right about my path, then there are things I need to set right. Please, give me the chance.”
She stopped and considered his request. “You may speak to Amy if you wish, but not Domnika.”
***
Nicolas paced back and forth as he waited for Amy to arrive.
“You look like Uncle John when you pace,” Amy said from the door.
He stopped and looked at her. She smiled so sweetly, as if he had never done her a bit of harm. “I wish I were more like Uncle John.” He returned to the couch. “Amy, come sit and help me make things right between us.”
She came and sat down beside him. “How can I help?”
“I need you to forgive me.”
“I forgive you.”
“You need to know what I’ve done first. I cannot accept your forgiveness until you know how impossible my request truly is.”
“Go on then.”
“First, about your money. It was not all lost by Allen. I withdrew—I stole— forty-two thousand pounds from your Swiss account to pay my own debts. That money could have made a big difference in your life, whereas I have nothing to show for it. I have no excuse for my actions.”
“Had you asked me for it, I would have gladly given it to you.”
“Which leads me to my second act of theft. Before Uncle John died, he entrusted your care to me. He asked that a property be turned over to you upon your eighteenth birthday, whether you were married or not. He suggested the property in Italy, although with two hundred thousand pounds he had left for you, you could have lived at any of the properties. The choice was to be yours. Later, after I broke my word on yet another promise to him about not marrying until you turned eighteen, Father Duncan came and reminded me of my promises. Or I should say Uncle John came and spoke through Father Duncan.”
His eyes filled with tears as misery swept over him. “Although I have failed you completely, you should know that Uncle John is still looking out for you, even beyond the grave. As Father Duncan evidently told you, he witnessed me deeding the Italian property to you. I left the solicitors office secure I had done at least one thing right. The winery is a profitable estate. Despite my mishandling of your money, you will be able to live comfortably in Italy.”
“But not until I come of age,” she reminded him.
“There was no second deeding, Amy. I lied about that and then lied about the age to prevent you from discovering my first lie.”
“And the first deeding was never filed?”
“No. The solicitor I used worked for Allen. That document went to Allen’s vault at the same time he hired men to kill me. Even after all I had done, Uncle John still cared enough to see me out of danger. Through Father Duncan he introduced me to Antonio, which you’ve no doubt surmised is not a valet. While we were in France, Allen died in an accident and by the time we returned, the men hired to kill me had taken their money and run.”
“When going through Allen’s vault I found the deed. I could have given it to a new solicitor to file, but I didn’t. It’s remained in my lock box all this time. I have no excuse as to why I did not file it—no good excuse. Excuses I have by the hundreds: first I had no time to find a new solicitor, and then I always seemed to forget it when I visited my solicitor, and then there was no need to hurry, it was safe enough in my lock box, and finally I fell to a new low and decided that instead of selling the London house and Scotland hunting lodge, I would sell your winery to pay my increasing debts.”
“Did you sell it?”
“No,” he said and pulled a document from his vest. “I have the deed here. I brought it with me as a token of proof I have finally come out from under Sicily’s spell, but after speaking with Ann, it may be the last redeeming act I ever perform.”
“Why?”
“It appears that I am to die. Hopefully, I will die with more honor than I have lived my life.”
Amy winced for a moment. “You can best do honor to the Soundberry name by living, even if you must fight to do so.” She took his hands into hers. “Why do you think you are dying?” Her hand moved to his chest and poised over his heart.
“Ann believes Sicily is poisoning me. Ironically, she believes that same poison has bought me a moment of immunity to Sicily’s control.”
“Arsenic.” Amy pushed his lip back to study his gums. When he gently pushed her hand away, she captured his and studied his nails. “For three weeks now, she’s been feeding you small doses of arsenic, which explains your anger and the reason she could no longer seduce you…only—”
“Only what?”
“I thought you had—” she stopped, evidently unable to say the words.
“Amy, I have not ruined Domnika.”
She looked up at him with hope.
“But I do love her. Ann does not see how, since I’ve only known her two days, but it doesn’t matter. I adore her regal pride, her acerbic wit, even when I am mostly at the end of it. If I were not married, I would offer her my hand, even knowing the man I am now is totally and completely unworthy of her. I love her. I cannot explain the rationale of it, but one day I am in my haze adoring Sicily and the next I find myself inexplicably married to this manipulative shrew and there in contrast is the exact woman I should have chosen for my wife. Not perfect, but so right for me.”
“I believe she is right for you. If you did not have a wife
and straightened yourself out, I believe she would happily become your wife. But if you give up this battle and die, then that can never happen.”
“I don’t want to die. But the only option appears to be killing my wife, and I cannot do that.”
“No,” she agreed. “But there are other options I think. If we can determine how she poisons you then you can stop consuming it.”
“But then my libido will return and she will take control of me again. Honestly, I would rather die.”
“There are other drugs that reduce libido. You can take those instead,” she offered. “In fact, one is a pain medicine for headaches. It would be perfectly natural for you to take that.”
“That may delay my death, but Ann believes Sicily will hire someone to kill me if I do not cooperatively die first.”
Amy nodded in agreement. “I have a possible option, but I wish Antonio was here, for it might not be sound.”
Antonio stepped in from the window. “I’m here,” he replied and sat down across from them his eyes focused on her hands massaging Nicolas’ hand.
Nicolas tried to extract his hand, but Amy would not release it.
“How long have you been there?”
“Only a moment, I just came back from your house, Nicolas,” he said looking very gloomy indeed. “It appears there has been a theft. The window to your library was broken, your desk cabinet wrenched open and your lock box taken.”
Nicolas handed him the document resting in his lap. “Is this what you wanted?”
Antonio frowned as he took the document and studied it. “This is what I went to find, but I do not break windows and wrench open cabinets, and thus you have insulted me again.” He placed the document in his jacket and refocused on Amy’s massaging of Nicolas’ hand. “Amy, what are you doing?”
“Nicolas has been poisoned with arsenic.”
Antonio approached and pulled back Nicolas’ lip.
Nicolas tried to pull away, but Antonio held tight.
Antonio released him. “I don’t see any signs of it.”
“That’s because he’s better now.” She patted Nicolas on the hand and returned to the couch. She then spoke to Antonio. “Would you like to hear my plan?”
Antonio smiled with great tenderness. “Of course.”
“I believe we should call in that inspector who investigated Allen’s death and tell him our concerns that Sicily is trying to kill Nicolas. Then he can put an inspector on the staff and catch Sicily in the act. She can then go to prison and Nicolas can divorce her and marry Domnika.”
“There’s a simpler solution,” Antonio observed.
“Yes, I know, but Nicolas has done too many shameful things. He cannot kill his wife.”
“Well, don’t ask me to do it. I don’t like him well enough to put my neck out for him.”
She sighed. “I would never think of asking such a thing. What do you think of my plan?”
“It’s complicated and involves the police, who are under-staffed and cannot possibly lend officers out as servants, not to mention they would be very bad at the job, trust me. Worse yet, your plan assumes Sicily is not clever and careful, which she certainly is or I would already know how she poisoned him.”
Amy sighed. “So, it’s a bad plan.”
“Sorry, love.” Antonio stroked a lock of her brown hair that escaped from her lace cap.
Amy pondered the problem for a few minutes. “Perhaps we can give Sicily drugs to make her less clever.”
When neither seemed impressed with the solution, Amy declared they needed better thinking. Grabbing Nicolas’ hand in one and Antonio’s in the other she pulled them from the parlor into the library where everyone else gathered.
It was apparent by the fright on Domnika’s face that she planned to run the moment they cleared the door.
“Domnika, we need your devious mind or Nicolas isn’t going to live past the week,” Amy warned and then succinctly laid out the facts for all of them.
“This doesn’t require any thought,” Gunter grumbled.
“He is not going to kill her. I know it is the easy answer, but Nicolas is not like the rest of you. He cannot kill someone.”
“I’ll do it if he’ll return your property to you,” Gunter said.
“He has already done so,” Amy assured him. “But asking you to do it is the same as doing it himself.”
“No, it’s not,” Gunter replied. “They are, in fact, very different things.”
“Well, then I forbid you to do it, Gunter. This is not your battle, this is Nicolas’, and he needs a way of solving it.”
Amy shared both her ideas to get the thoughts flowing, but she could see her protectors couldn’t get beyond the easy solution.
Fortunately, Domnika could. “I think your suggestion of drugging her is a good one, Amy. It will keep her from retaliating with a fatal blow while we dally about with a complex battle plan.”
Amy frowned. “Was that an endorsement for drugging her or a complaint over my over-complex plan?”
“Yes. And once drugged, she should be taken to Soundberry. There she will be less likely to hire assassins or find poisons. Make certain you don’t take any of the servants with her. One of them is probably assisting her in the poisoning. And Nicolas, you aren’t going to like this next part, but consider it penance: you need to buddy up to Mrs. Cole. You do not want the housekeeper from hell siding with Sicily. You’ll be dead in an hour if that happens. However, if you ensure Mrs. Cole is against her, her every action will be thwarted.”
“Domnika, you’re brilliant,” Amy exclaimed. “Nicolas, all you have to do is tell Mrs. Cole the truth, that Sicily tried to poison you. The main reason they always hated me was because they believed I kept Uncle John from marrying again and having his own heir. They are very protective of the status quo. Just tell them about the debts she has run up and the attempt on your life and Mrs. Cole will keep her under constant supervision.”
She looked at Antonio and Mrs. Halloway. Both looked slightly stunned.
She turned to Gunter. “Well?”
Gunter stared at her and then Domnika. “It’s actually a good plan and you are spot on about Mrs. Cole’s motivation. She needs the status quo preserved. If Nicolas dies, her income is destroyed, and she’s too old and unpleasant to ever get another position as housekeeper, especially one so lucrative.” He looked at Nicolas. “You should go with this plan. It will leave your hands clean but still pumping blood.”
Nicolas smiled gratefully at Domnika. “It is a good plan, and one I can live with, that will not lower me further into the depths of hell. Any idea what drug I should use and where it can be obtained?”
“I will go to a druggist and get something for both you and Sicily tomorrow,” Amy offered.
“You should check my supply room first to see if you can find what you need,” Mrs. Halloway suggested. “Antonio can show you where it is.”
***
Amy followed Antonio down into the cellar where he slid back a panel door exposing another room. They entered, and Antonio closed the door behind them.
Amy stared at the shelves of drugs all neatly labeled. One entire wall held poisons. “This is rather frightening.”
Antonio smiled. “Surely you’ve deduced that Ann is more than a mere socialite planning parties.”
“I have, just as I’ve deduced you’re no valet. Some of these poisons are very rare and very dangerous. Even the smallest drop on your hand could kill you.”
He pulled her hands away from the jars. “I know that, so since we are not looking for deadly poisons, perhaps we should move on.”
Amy found herself utterly lost, for when he pulled her hand back she had backed up until she pressed into his hot burning chest.
“Amy, are you hurt?”
“I am uncertain,” she admitted. “I think I might be having a heart attack.”
“Did you touch something?” he demanded turning her around to face him. “Amy, answer me. What did you touch?�
��
His hands where burning her face now and his eyes so close to her own were filled with worry and love. She smiled and touched his face. “I’m not dying from poison, Antonio, it’s just that when you touch me it sets my body on fire. My skin burns, my heart beats, my face flushes…”
Antonio finally understood and pulled her into his arms and held her tight as he let out a sigh of relief.
“My knees go weak,” she added.
“I thought, well you know what I thought.”
“My blood surges. My brain goes fuzzy.”
“Amy?”
“My lips go dry, my throat feels tight, my stomach seems like it’s full of butterflies.”
“Do you want me to let you go?”
“That is probably a good idea,” she admitted. “Mrs. Halloway explained to me that this is just a physical reaction caused when two people are highly sensual, but its effects are quite debilitating all the same.”
He released her, except for his hands upon her arms, which he kept firm until she proved able to steady herself.
She took in a deep breath and continued to peruse the cabinets of drugs. Finally, coming to the more benign section, she selected laudanum and a ground root that would relieve tension and weaken the libido.
“This should do the trick.”
“This plan of yours, you do realize that all you are doing is shifting the killing of Sicily to Mrs. Cole.”
“I realize the possibility, but it is not a certainty. I survived for fourteen years. However, whatever happens, it will not be by Nicolas’ hand.”
“Is that so important? Can you not love a man who has death on his hands?”
“This is not about what I cannot bear; it is what Nicolas can bear. He is not a soldier, Antonio. He cannot make killing impersonal. Killing Sicily would blacken his soul.”
“You protect him far greater than he ever protected you.”
Suddenly Uncle John appeared. “Amy! This room is filled with poisons, some of which have no doubt escaped their bottles and float in the air. It is not a place for long conversations!”
“Of course,” she replied to her uncle and grabbed Antonio’s hand. “We’ve been in here far too long.”
Love's Betrayals (The Extraordinary Life of Amy Winston Book 2) Page 10
