“Ann, thank you for your assistance. I shall not forget it.” She dismissed the girl and took out a clean sheet of paper.
She wrote to Daniel about her father being taken ill, adding the duke’s instruction to him as well as one of her own. After sending off that missive, she scribbled down her father’s every symptom. His knees buckled. He felt dizzy. His thoughts seemed scattered. And so on. Taking that sheet, she hurried to her father’s half of the stillroom.
As she stood in the doorway, the amount of books on the shelves seemed to triple. All she wanted to do was go to her father and burst into tears. Instead, lifting her chin, she pulled out a volume on poisons bound in blue leather. She had perused half a dozen books with no result when she heard the doctor had arrived.
She hurried upstairs and slipped into her father’s bedroom.
“Well done on acting quickly to empty the duke’s stomach,” the doctor said to her mother. “That saved his life. The patient’s pupils, however, are dilated and his pulse is weak.”
Her father’s limbs jerked.
“This is not good.” The doctor turned to Faith. “I need water, a pitcher of it, and two glasses.”
Faith sent the duke’s valet. “Hurry!”
He returned and the doctor woke the duke and used a mixture of ipecac and water to induce further vomiting. Satisfied that they had removed as much of the patient’s stomach contents as possible, he had the duke drink two full glasses of water.
“To dilute what might still remain in his body,” he said.
Finally, he allowed his exhausted patient to lie back. The duke sank onto his pillow and closed his eyes. The doctor whispered something to her mother, and the duchess asked all the servants milling by the doorway to leave.
Once the door was shut, the doctor said, “Your grace, it would help to know what the poison was.”
“I am sorry.” She rubbed her forehead and looked at Faith with frightened eyes.
“It might have been from a poisonous plant,” Faith said “But we have no idea what kind.”
The doctor nodded and turned to her mother. “Without that knowledge, curing your husband will prove difficult, your grace. The poison, though slowed, might still eventually kill him.”
The knot in Faith’s stomach tightened.
The doctor hesitated and then added, “May I inform the local magistrate of what has happened on your behalf?”
“Yes,” Faith said at the same time her mother said, “No.”
“I am sorry,” the duchess said. “But we must first decide how to deal with the matter before calling in the law. You understand. This is a delicate issue.”
Faith bit her lips to keep from protesting. She wanted to see the Duchess of Morton taken to prison, could picture her shackled and dragged through the streets past a screaming mob toward Newgate prison. She shifted to ease the tension in her shoulders. Her mother was right. They must use care, for this matter involved another duchess.
“As you wish,” the doctor said. “It is best that he rest. See he is undisturbed. He needs peace and quiet. I will check in a few hours and if he is not better, we should consider bleeding.”
Once the doctor left, her mother sat on the bed and held her husband’s hand, her cheeks wet with tears.
Faith had no words of comfort. Giving her mother a silent hug, she left to continue with her work.
She paused by her father’s upstairs study. That Bow Street runner he’d hired to track Mrs. Hutchinson might be of use. Faith checked through the desk drawers and found a note with a man’s name and directions to Bow Street.
She quickly penned a letter, asking him to call on her at his earliest convenience and sent a footman to deliver it before hurrying back to the stillroom. A half hour later, a footman came in with a note. “This came for you, my lady.”
He left the missive on the table and quietly left.
Faith went over and looked at the letter.
The Morton crest was stamped in red wax on the outside. With shaking fingers, she unsealed it and read.
The duchess advised in a bold script that she had heard that the Duke of Burley had taken ill. Since she possessed some talent in healing, she would be happy to extend a helping hand.
It is the least I can do for my future daughter-in-law.
The implication was clear and terrifying. The note ended saying she hoped Faith would act quickly, for these sudden illnesses could escalate quickly.
Faith sat on the cold flagstone floor. The paper slipped out of her shaking grasp. The duchess’s threat and the veiled request were unmistakable. If Faith agreed to marry Morton, the duchess would cure Faith’s father. Even after all that had happened, she and Granger had not let go of their original goal.
It was not surprising. For not only was Granger obsessed with her, but now Faith was aware of their plans. Short of killing Faith, their only alternative was to force her to marry into the family, thus preventing her from ever spilling their plans to alter the lineage of a dukedom. By forcing her to marry Morton, in essence, they would make her complicit with their mad scheme.
She shivered with loathing. Not only did her freedom depend on her response, but her father’s life, as well. The urge to agree came over her sharp and strong. Would marriage to Morton be such a terrible price to pay, if it meant her father would live? Yet, if she gave in, she would be resigning herself to a life of horror at Granger’s hands. And how would she prevent his mother from threatening her family again, if something Faith did displeased her? Faith would be chaining herself, and her children, to a lifetime of fear. And her family would never be out of danger.
Her answer was a resounding no.
Decision made, she picked up the sheet and got on her feet. The letter was not incriminating, but it could act as evidence against the duchess when combined with other facts. Tucking the vile missive into her pocket, Faith pushed aside her despair and resumed her search for a cure.
AFTER LEAVING Faith in the safety of her family, Daniel returned to Ravenstock Manor with Miss Wood. Too tired and depressed to speak to anyone, he left the librarian to relay the details to Lady Roselyn. In his room, he reclaimed his bed from Phoenix.
A knock startled him awake. Phoenix, a warm bundle curled alongside his neck, did not stir. The sun’s shadow indicated Daniel must have slept all night and well into the next morning. No rest in almost forty-eight hours had taken its toll.
The knock came again, insistent.
On his way to the door, he combed his hair with his fingers and straightened his shirt. Mary was on the other side, wearing a wide grin. She held out a neatly wrapped box.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A present. The note says it is from Lady Faith. Go on, read it.” Her eyes were wide with curiosity.
He unfolded the sheet.
To my cherished rescuer,
Kindly accept this as a sign of my undying love. I hope you will tell me how much you enjoyed them on our next meeting. Your dearest Faith
Heart squeezing with concern that Faith might still be clinging stubbornly to a vain hope of a future with him, Daniel took the box and, despite Mary’s protests, shut the door.
He sat on the bed and undid the wrapping. Inside were four sweets of rounded shapes. He had never seen such beautiful comfits, all nestled within deep green velvet bedding. Well, he could be firm with Faith after he tasted her gift.
He chose one covered in crushed almonds and sniffed it. The scent of brandy was strong. He placed the box on the bed and Phoenix stretched awake to sniff at the open contents.
“I suppose you want one?” he said to the cat.
Daniel was about to take a bite, when another knock came. With a sigh, he answered, having a good idea who it might be.
He swung the door wide. “Yes, Mary, you may have one
, too.”
Mary was indeed at the door, but this time, she was holding out a second note. “Another missive from Lady Faith,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Stony brought it up. You are popular with the lady.”
With an answering grin, he exchanged a sweet for the letter and shut the door. He turned around and spotted Phoenix grab a round delicacy before scurrying over to his favorite part of the room, the rug in front of the hearth.
Shaking his head at the kitten’s thievery, Daniel opened and read the second letter. Immediately, he noted the change in handwriting, tone and curt message.
My father has taken ill. He wants you to deal with Granger. Aim accurately.
The duke had been fine yesterday. Could he have eaten something that made him ill? Daniel’s glance flew to the cat licking his stolen treat. He ran over and grabbed the candy. Relief coursed through him when he saw that though the comfit was soggy, Phoenix had not yet bitten into it.
Mary! Grabbing the box, he raced to the maid’s room. He barged in and found her lying on the bed, her eyes closed. “Mary!”
She sat up. “What? I am due a few minutes rest.”
“The sweet. Did you eat it?”
She shook her head and pointed to her side table. “I am saving it for after dinner.”
He returned hers to the box. “These did not come from Lady Faith.” He knew that in his heart. “Someone may have poisoned her father. If so, then these sweets are suspect.” He hugged the maid from sheer relief and left to find Sir Phillip. He sprinted to the study, leaping steps two and three at a time until he could sail over the curved rail at the bottom.
Daniel barged into the study. “Sir.”
Sir Phillip looked up from penning a letter. “So you are finally awake. You look worried. Is something wrong?”
Daniel came forward and placed the box of confectionary on the writing desk. “These arrived for me.”
Sir Phillip smiled. “You object to receiving presents?”
“Only if poisoned, sir. Or, at least, I suspect so.”
Sir Phillip pulled the box closer. From a desk drawer, he took out a pair of leather gloves, put them on and with a slender knife sliced one of the comfits in half. Carefully, he brought the item close enough to sniff and then reared back. “Devil’s trumpet. Also known as Jimson Weed. I have seen it used in the battlefield. It is quite deadly.” He gave Daniel a look of admiration. “How did you know not to eat it?”
“It was mere chance.” He explained about the two dissimilar notes and the duke’s sudden illness.
“If Burley has been poisoned, we have little time to waste. It might be too late. This stuff acts quickly.” He pulled out a blank sheet and wrote on it. “Let us hope they used the same poison for both attacks. Lady Faith must check her father’s symptoms for similarity.”
He was still writing when a servant entered with a letter.
“What is that?” Sir Phillip said.
“It is a note from Ann, the maid you assigned to the Burley mansion, sir.”
Sir Phillip quickly opened the missive. “It is as we feared. The duke’s been poisoned and Ann suspects it was the Duchess of Morton who slipped him something lethal.”
“They attacked both houses at once,” Daniel said, awed by the duchess’s audacity.
Sir Phillip ordered the footman to return with his letter to Lady Faith. He turned to Daniel as the door closed. “How could Granger know to send the poison to you, here?”
“We had to give our names at each toll house on the turnpikes. And when we stopped at an inn nearby to ask about a nearby Killian estate, the innkeeper insisted on having both my name and address, to ensure we meant his patron no harm.”
Sir Phillip nodded slowly. “Or Morton could have told him.”
Daniel firmly shook his head. “No. He would not betray me. I am certain of that. What puzzles me is, why would the duchess attack Burley?”
“She and Granger are panicked and are blindly striking out.”
“Faith’s not safe as long as Granger is alive.” Daniel paced in front of Sir Phillip’s desk. “I should have finished him off when I had the chance.”
Sir Phillip tapped an index finger rhythmical on his tabletop. “That would still leave his mother free to wreak her vengeance on us. Once she learns her first attempt has failed, she will try again. You cannot watch everything you eat.”
“Or everyone else in this house,” Daniel said. “Mary almost ate one of those sweets, and Phoenix licked at it. But he is fine—he did not bite into it.”
“It could as easily have been Rose enjoying one of your sweets.” Sir Phillip’s mouth turned grim. “This situation cannot continue. That family must be brought down.” He gave Daniel a grim stare. “According to Miss Wood, you befriended Morton. Is that so?”
“Yes.” Daniel then told him of his conversation with the young duke, and about Morton filching his mother’s emerald brooch, which suggested he might have been behind the regent’s stolen buckles.
“I have long suspected that Granger, not Morton, stole the buckles, and put them into Burley’s pockets to implicate him. Then he used that vulnerability to manipulate Burley into betrothing his daughter to Morton.
For the life of me, I just could not understand how Burley lost the buckles. Your news puts a new slant on the matter. If Morton stole those buckles from Burley at his club, he would have effectively destroyed his mother and brother’s bargaining chip.”
“That must have upset them royally,” Daniel said, admiring his brother’s ingenuity.
“You say Morton was startled by your appearance,” Sir Phillip asked. “Did he reveal anything else?”
Daniel sighed, then proceeded to tell Sir Phillip about the duke’s mistaken belief that Daniel might be Morton’s elder brother. “He is desperate for a friend, sir. And he has been playing make-believe that his dead brother and he are friends. Seeing me likely confused him.”
“I suspect your brother is more right than wrong,” Sir Phillip said. “I shall explain that in a moment, after we invite my wife to join us.”
He came around the desk to face Daniel. “First, there is another matter we must discuss. Miss Wood has beseeched me to speak with you regarding your proposal. She does not wish to hurt your feelings, Trenton, but the lady has no wish to marry and asked me to intercede on her behalf. I had planned to do so, but now I surmise that breaking off your betrothal would have a larger impact on Miss Wood’s future.”
“Whatever your concerns, sir, you have nothing to fear on that score. I have no intention of crying off.” He clenched his fists to keep his depression at bay.
“This is something you should discuss with Miss Wood.”
“I gave her my word and I will stand by—”
Sir Phillip raised his hand. “Hear me out. I know you care for Miss Wood. We all do. I have thought about this, and must ask you to consider your proposal from Miss Wood’s perspective.”
“That is why I proposed. I compromised her reputation.”
“Let me rephrase myself. Have you looked at your proposal, not from a man’s sensible point of view, but from a woman’s emotional perception? Lady Roselyn asked me a question last night that I could not answer, so I will ask it of you. Does Miss Wood not deserve to marry a man who loves her as much as you love Lady Faith, or I love Rose? It behooves you to at least speak with the lady. And then listen to her objections.”
The idea that he might be forcing his hand on Miss Wood deeply troubled Daniel. “I will speak with her, sir. Right now, if you wish. Shall we meet back here in, say, twenty minutes?”
“In the drawing room.” Sir Phillip paused for a moment and then added, “Daniel, also mention the possibility that you might be the Duke of Morton. Knowing our Miss Wood, it will not matter, but she should have the opportunity to respond knowle
dgably.”
Then Sir Phillip quietly left the room, allowing Daniel the privacy to let the many implications of his suggestion sink in.
Chapter Seventeen
ONCE HE FOUND Miss Wood, Daniel had barely got the words out that he might be the rightful Duke of Morton, before the librarian hugged him, kissed his cheek and said she wished to cry off their betrothal. Then she began to plan his and Faith’s wedding. Daniel shook his head, stunned by her enthusiasm for another woman’s possible happiness. The librarian was unique, to say the least.
Still, for twenty minutes, they argued about possible damage to her reputation. Finally, she said, “Sir, the only man I wish to pledge my love to, does not love me.”
Daniel’s heart had squeezed in sympathy at that heartfelt confession from this normally private young lady. He immediately wanted to know who the bounder was, so he could thump some sense into him. She staunchly refused to divulge the misguided fool’s name. All Daniel could pry out of her was that the man she loved had been her childhood hero.
Twenty minutes later on the dot, a relieved Daniel and a jubilant Miss Wood entered the drawing room to find Sir Phillip and his wife there, as well as every other alliance member present in the house.
“I did not realize we were going to have a Rue Alliance meeting,” he said.
Lady Roselyn came straight over to him and hugged him tight. He gave a startled look to her husband. Sir Phillip did not wear the thin-lipped glare he normally sported whenever his wife was near Daniel.
Tentatively, Daniel returned her embrace and thoroughly enjoyed the experience, only pulling away after Sir Phillip’s lips formed that familiar straight line.
“I am so glad you are safe,” Lady Roselyn said.
“Always a surprise to me,” he said with a teasing smile.
Sir Phillip escorted his wife to a chair, and after Miss Wood took her seat, he sat beside his wife. “We have been discussing our next move.”
Daniel stood beside Miss Wood, who began by effervescing with supreme relief as she related the news of her broken betrothal. After she finished, Sir Phillip took over the conversation.
A Scorching Dilemma Page 19
