The Scottish Duke Page 25

  “You have to drink this, Nan. I know it’s vile but you have to.”

  He thought it was Lorna’s will alone that got the concoction down Nan’s throat.

  When Peter returned bearing a steaming teakettle, Lorna pressed half of the leaves from both of the bottles into the boiling water. They all stood silently watching Nan as the brew steeped. When Lorna deemed it ready, she poured some of the green mixture into the same glass, then cooled it by adding more whiskey.

  “She won’t like this one, either,” Lorna said, glancing up at him. “The cure is said to taste like briars mixed with horse excrement.”

  His mother’s laugh surprised them all. When he glanced at her, she shrugged, still making that rocking motion to soothe Robbie. His son was gnawing on one fist and drooling all over his mother’s expensive dress. She didn’t appear to care one whit.

  “I do bless the day you came into our lives, Lorna,” his mother said. “You’re a breath of fresh air. You’ll save her. I know you will.”

  Once Nan finished the glass, her color was a little better. The bluish tint to her lips had disappeared. She looked more herself, but ill.

  “How long until you know if the cure worked?” Alex asked.

  “Not for a day or two. If she doesn’t have any more seizures, she should recover.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Peter asked, stepping forward.

  Had Peter developed feelings for Nan? It was a question he would never have asked himself a year ago.

  “Say a prayer,” Lorna said, studying her friend. “Or a dozen of them.”

  He would say a few as well, of thankfulness that Lorna hadn’t drunk any of the tea. Who would have saved her if she had? He certainly didn’t have the expertise, and by the time a physician could be called it would have been too late.

  While he was at it, he’d say another prayer, that he found the person responsible before anything else could happen.

  They tucked Nan into the guest room near their suite with Hortense to care for her. The woman had strict orders to alert Lorna if Nan developed a fever or if her appearance changed in any way.

  Alex had sent for the physician as well. The doctor might not know about herbs and their poisonous properties, but he would be able to help Nan if she had another seizure or if her condition worsened. He probably wouldn’t arrive until morning, which meant there was nothing more to be done but return to their suite.

  Lorna peeked into the bedroom to find Robbie asleep and her mother-in-law dozing next to him in the overstuffed chair. She closed the door and faced Alex.

  “They’re both asleep,” she said. “But not for long. Robbie needs to be fed.”

  “But for now we have time to talk.” Alex stood by the fire.

  She didn’t ask him what he wanted to discuss. The questions had been fomenting all evening. She sat on the wing chair in front of the fireplace, stretching her hands out in front of her. Someone had tended the fire earlier and it crackled merrily, as if the flames were talking to each other.

  “Will she live?” Alex asked.

  She nodded. “I think so. Whoever put the monkwood in the tea didn’t know how many leaves to use to cause death.”

  “But they’d known that monkwood is dangerous.”

  “Most people know that,” she said. “It’s like foxglove. People have heard that it can be used for good but that too much can kill.”

  He sat next to her in the adjoining wing chair.

  “I need to talk to Mrs. McDermott. I don’t want any trays left unattended. And from now on, only the staff regularly assigned there is to be allowed in the kitchen.”

  “I don’t think the poison was meant for Nan,” she said.

  “Nor do I.”

  She glanced at him for a moment before she went back to studying the fire.

  “Your uncle came to the cottage one day,” she said. “He wanted to know about my herbs.”

  “You think Thomas would have done such a thing?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t. He’s been genuinely kind to me these past months. I find him charming. He might be a libertine, but I doubt he’s a murderer.”

  Alex didn’t say anything, but his face changed, molding itself into stern lines. For just a second she saw how he might appear in thirty or forty years. That is, unless he allowed some happiness into his life.

  “He was complimentary of you when he came to Edinburgh,” he said.

  “Was he?”

  She glanced at him again, caught the glint in his eyes and shook her head.

  “I’m not Ruth, Alex.”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Alex, stop it. I will not be compared to Ruth. Not in any way.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She was a great deal more understanding of you than I am.”

  “Again, what does that mean, Lorna?”

  “According to your mother, the two of you chased each other all over Scotland. I have no intention of tolerating that kind of behavior. I think it only fair to warn you that if you desert me again, I’ll sue for a legal separation.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The Matrimonial Causes Act,” she said, closing her eyes and laying her head back against the chair. “I believe it was passed a few years ago.”

  “Who told you about the Matrimonial Causes Act?”

  His voice sounded strange, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  “It’s your choice,” she said. “Either you’re a husband or you’re not. I know you only married me for Robbie’s benefit. But our son deserves to see his mother treated with respect and decency. Leaving me for so long was neither.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” he said, surprising her. “I should have been here. I should never have left you. But I didn’t only marry you for Robbie’s benefit.”

  She opened her eyes and studied him.

  “I know we do well together,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm.

  “Do well together?” he asked, a strange smile playing around his lips. “That’s one way to put it.”

  She was not going to ask what he would call what happened to them when they kissed or touched. She knew she lost any awareness of her surroundings, even the sense of who she was. Perhaps it was safe to say she lost her mind around him. Was it the same with him?

  She didn’t ask and he didn’t volunteer any additional information.

  “Why now?” he asked. “Why mention the Matrimonial Causes Act now? You had plenty of time in the last day or so.”

  “Because of Nan,” she said. She turned and looked at him steadily. “Because, for a little while, I thought she would die. Then I realized that someone wanted me to die. For marrying you. It seems to me that if I’m in danger for being your wife, I ought to at least be treated as one.”

  He didn’t respond.

  She stood, keeping herself silent. She knew who wanted her gone from Blackhall. So did Alex. Was he going to do anything about Mary?

  How he treated this situation might well decree their future and the rest of their married life together. What had Louise said? Something about life being too short and to grab her happiness where she could.

  Someone wanted to ensure her life was cut short now.

  Chapter 28

  Alex sat at his office desk, trying to concentrate on the fingerprint cards before him.

  He put down his magnifying glass and stared out at the view of the morning from his office. It was no use. He couldn’t concentrate.

  The day was a gray one. Mist huddled on the ground like earthbound clouds and clung halfway up the trees. The top branches were black against the white, dead sticks waiting for a touch of green.

  He and Jason had each taken half the cards belonging to the staff and were going through them to find a match to the fingerprints they’d lifted from the cottage, in what he was mentally calling Lorna’s apothecary.

  His contribution to the task was almost nil. His mind was on Lorna’s words fro
m the previous night.

  He’d slept on the damnable cot again, his dreams fitful things no doubt fueled by the events of the evening. He was worried about Lorna’s safety, incensed by the thought that someone would dare to try to harm her, and trying to push his suspicions away, at least until he had proof.

  An excellent reason to press on with this task. He picked up the magnifying glass again and took the next card to examine.

  She thought he’d just married her for Robbie’s sake. Not only that, but she’d leveled a look of such disgust on him that he’d physically felt it. It was one thing to be lectured by Thomas, who was a profligate satyr. Quite another for Lorna to excoriate him with a few words.

  He felt more inept than he’d felt for years. Or ever. What did she want from him?

  The truth?

  She was right. That was the damnable thing about the whole situation. She was absolutely right. He didn’t have any grounds to mount a defense. His actions had been indefensible.

  He’d been behaving exactly like he had all his life, burrowing inward, hiding himself, revealing nothing.

  I’m not Ruth. No, she wasn’t. Lorna wouldn’t escape Blackhall for the entertainments of the city. She wouldn’t take lovers, of that he was certain. Nor would she allow him to remain in his office, immersed in his prints, if there was something on her mind.

  Look what had happened last night. He didn’t doubt that she meant what she said. Scandal be damned, she might just sue for separation if he ever left her again. She was right about something else. They were good together. Better than he had envisioned.

  For the first time in his life he knew he hadn’t lived up to the expectations of his family. Not only those of his father, by example, but his mother and uncle. The discordance of that thought had him standing, walking to the window, and fighting back the urge to flee.

  He couldn’t escape himself, yet he’d certainly tried to do that, hadn’t he?

  He had three problems at the forefront of his mind. One: Lorna and their relationship. He needed to define it, capture it, and understand it. Two: how did he keep his new family safe? Three: if Mary was behind the attack, as he suspected, how did he handle her?

  Disturbed, he went back to his work and was almost instantly rewarded with a match. Fifteen minutes later he found another. Jason surprised him with an announcement that he’d found not just one match, but two.

  He motioned Jason to his side. He slid the set of prints he’d taken from the shards of glass in the cottage next to the cards.

  “You look at the ones I found and I’ll check yours,” he said.

  They each spent a few minutes examining the cards.

  “There are definitely four matches, sir,” Jason said.

  He agreed.

  “People among the staff, sir?” Jason sounded as incredulous as he felt.

  He glanced up at his assistant. “Turn over the cards.”

  Jason reached out and with his long-fingered hand turned over each card to reveal the names. His silence was as pointed as any comment he might have made.

  “What are you going to do, Your Grace?” he finally asked.

  He wasn’t surprised at the question. Jason had always impressed him with his quick understanding of the facts.

  Four people besides Lorna had touched the bottles from her apothecary. He was one of them, which was understandable. He’d originally unpacked the trunk for her. One of the remaining three people had destroyed what they could and stolen the herbs that had nearly killed Nan. He didn’t know if it was the same person or if two different people were involved. It was all too possible that someone had stolen the herbs from the cottage before the damage occurred.

  He was just going to have to find the answers.

  “I’m going to go and see my uncle,” Alex said, partially answering Jason’s question. He knew what he was going to do with the other two individuals as well, but Thomas’s answer was the first one he’d hear.

  Lorna awoke feeling groggy, almost heavy, as if she were grieving and weeping tears that couldn’t be seen. She hadn’t felt that way since after her father died.

  Alex had only been home a few days and their marriage was already crumbling.

  He’d remained in the dressing room all night. Had she erred in confronting him? Something had snapped when he mentioned Ruth. She hadn’t planned on saying what she had, but did he seriously expect her to silently acquiesce to his absences? That wasn’t her definition of a marriage. Nor was she going to be the kind of wife who simply accepted any bad behavior on his part because he was the Duke of Kinross. He was her husband, which was at least as important.

  She might not have the pedigree that Mary thought was so necessary to being a duchess, but did that really matter? Wasn’t her behavior more important than her heritage?

  She hadn’t exactly behaved in a proper manner, either, or the Duke of Kinross wouldn’t have felt it necessary to marry her when she was in labor. Very well, she wasn’t a proper duchess. What about being a wife? In order to be a proper wife was she supposed to simply remain silent and meek?

  She doubted she’d be able to alter her character enough to fit into that role. Even as a maid she’d had to bite her tongue more than once. At night, Nan, who was the most amenable of people, had to listen to her complain about their rules.

  No, she was destined to be just who she was, a deplorable duchess and a demanding wife. What about Alex? Did he think himself exempt from any kind of standards of behavior?

  She fed Robbie and dressed, all the while trying to decide who she was more annoyed at: Alex or herself.

  Taking the baby with her, she went next door to see Nan. To her delight, her friend was sitting up in bed. Although pale, she appeared to feel better than she had yesterday afternoon. She even smiled when Lorna opened the door and peeked inside.

  “I’m so glad it’s you,” Nan said. “Hortense has threatened me with gruel, can you believe it? I’m genuinely hungry, but she said she couldn’t bring me anything but broth. Broth?”

  “It would be better for you,” Lorna said, moving to sit on the chair beside the bed. “Your stomach is bound to be upset.”

  Robbie reached out for Nan and she grabbed his plump little hands.

  “Hortense said that someone poisoned the tea. Is that true?”

  She nodded. “I don’t know who,” she said. “But I know what they used. Monkwood.”

  Nan’s eyes widened. “The same monkwood that can kill you?”

  Lorna nodded again. “The very same. I gave you an antidote, and I’m grateful that it seemed to have worked.”

  “So am I,” Nan said, leaning back against the pillow. A moment later she spoke again. “They could’ve killed all three of us.”

  “I don’t think they cared how many people they killed as long as I was one of them.”

  Nan glanced at her. “Someone doesn’t want you to be the Duchess of Kinross. But why now?”

  “Because Alex has come home,” she said. “Maybe she thought he would come back and tell me he was going to divorce me. Or throw me out of Blackhall. I don’t know.”

  “Mary,” Nan said.

  “I think so.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She had slept fitfully the night before with her worry about Nan, her confrontation with Alex, and her suspicions. Daylight hadn’t brought her any answers.

  “I don’t know at the moment,” she said.

  Robbie was fussing a little, so she put him on her shoulder and began to rock back-and-forth in the chair. The soothing motion soon led to him sleeping, his head lolling against her neck.

  “No one saw her put the monkwood leaves in the tea,” Lorna added.

  “If she really did it, Lorna, she’ll do something else.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m going to move all my remaining herbs to a locked room somewhere here in the castle. Or maybe I should just destroy them.”

  What a pity, since some of them had taken her fa
ther years to collect and others were rare. They were the only important things she owned, but if she had to destroy them to prevent others from using them for ill, she would.

  When Hortense arrived, Lorna approved of the broth that she had brought from the kitchen.

  “Mrs. McDermott made me promise that I wouldn’t stop on the way anywhere, Lorna. Your Grace, I mean. I was to come straight here and not let anyone near the bowl.”

  Evidently Alex had already instituted his measures.

  “Good,” Lorna said.

  Turning to Nan, she smiled. “If your stomach can tolerate the bone broth, I promise to bring you something more substantial later.”

  Nan only made a face.

  The sun had finally decided to make an appearance, burning off the mist and chasing away the bank of clouds.

  She didn’t want to return to the sitting room. Nor did she want to be with anyone. She was in a strange, almost sad mood. Without much encouragement she could burst into tears. Not exactly a time to be with a companion. Instead, she was going to get a little fresh air, and it wouldn’t hurt Robbie, either.

  She bundled up both of them, using one of her long woolen scarves to devise a way to carry Robbie. She tied it around her waist then above her shoulders, knotting it at the front. She spread the scarf open and lifted Robbie inside. He seemed to think it was great fun, his brown eyes sparkling up at her. Whenever she looked at him, it was like something was squeezing her heart. Except for the color of his eyes, he resembled Alex so much.

  Robbie was beginning to recognize certain people. He’d smiled his first smile. His gurgling sounded like laughter. He was lifting his head up and surveying the world like he was pleased with what he saw. Soon he would be crawling and then walking. All of Blackhall would be his domain.

  She, too, had changed in the intervening months. She was no longer willing to simply dream dreams. She wanted to see the world as it was, but be happy with it, too. She wanted to be loved. Surely that wasn’t too onerous a wish.

  She made her way to the first floor without seeing anyone. She didn’t know about other great houses, but Blackhall had a certain rhythm to it. A pulse beat, perhaps. Most of the daily activity happened between dawn and eleven. Then, people gravitated to the servants’ dining room for an early lunch. The castle seemed to doze a little between lunch and when the cleaning of the upper rooms began at one. From then until four or five, the staff were busy with their tasks. Conversation could be heard in the stairwell, along with occasional laughter, but never near the family quarters or in the public rooms that might be occupied.