Seven years ago we were talking about the same thing. About Christine being poisoned.
It would be another day before Miss Peaton could sit up. Her eyelids were heavy, and she looked around blankly, as if surprised to find herself at Stonehill.
“What day is it?” was the first thing she said, reaching for Gerard’s hand. He grasped her fingers tightly, using both of his hands to cover her small one.
“It’s Tuesday. You’ve been asleep since the ball two nights ago.”
“The ball…” she whispered, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. “What on earth happened?”
Gerard swallowed thickly.
“What’s happened, Your Grace? Was there an accident? I can’t remember…”
“You were poisoned.” He said it simply, spitting it out quickly all at once.
“Poisoned?” Her brows furrowed, not understanding. “How strange.”
She leaned back against her pillows innocently and Gerard almost smiled. Her look of confusion, devoid of fear, made her look almost childlike. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, and she looked down at it, then up at him.
“Miss Peaton, what is the last thing you remember?” he asked gently.
“I do not know…” she whispered, looking around the room curiously. “I was…I remember you taking my hand. I was so nervous to dance with you. I thought I was going to be sick.”
“What happened before then?”
“Nothing. I got dressed with the Duchess and we walked down together. She introduced me to a few people. Nothing really. Who else got sick? How unusual that the cooks would make such a mistake.”
“Miss Peaton, you misunderstand—” his explanation that she was deliberately targeted and poisoned was cut off by Bridget appearing in the doorway.
“Oh, Miss Peaton, you’re awake!” she exclaimed. “What a relief. I will send for Mr. Reeve and Detective Collins at once.”
“Detective?” Miss Peaton asked as Bridget hurried from the room.
Gerard squeezed her hand and shifted so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. She did not seem alarmed by his nearness. Perhaps she was still too tired and groggy to care.
“The cooks did not make a mistake,” he began. “You were poisoned deliberately. You, specifically. No one else is sick.”
Her brows furrowed again. “I don’t understand. Why should someone want to poison me? Have I done something wrong?”
Gerard smiled sadly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Sweet woman, you’ve done nothing wrong. We tend to believe that the person who poisoned you is the same person who killed my…my fiancée. Christine. You’ve heard the story, I imagine. We don’t know if you were his target or just a mistake.”
“Oh,” she breathed, realization dawning on her face. “Oh, I see.”
“Miss Peaton,” he uttered, dropping to his knees at her bedside as he grasped at both of her hands now. “I meant to tell you at the ball. I mean, I meant to clarify. You’ve gotten the wrong impression of me. I never intended to…compromise you. I wanted to take you from Stonehill, I wanted to ask you to marry me.”
“Your Grace, I…”
He shook his head, lowering his forehead to the edge of the bed. “It’s all right. You don’t need to say it. I understand.”
She slid one of her hands from his grasp and he felt her fingers run through his hair so gently that he was compelled to look up at her.
“I’ve never woken up from an illness to find that someone had sat up at my bedside all night.”
“Never?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Never. What have I done to earn such devotion?”
“I love you,” he answered. “I loved you at once, although I didn’t recognize it at first. I thought I was coming to Stonehill to attempt to mend my relationship with my nephew and to hurry back to Hadminster. It seems that Providence had other plans for me. I cannot ask you to marry me now, even my selfishness has its limit. But you brought me back to life. I didn’t think it was possible, but you have.”
“Ask me anyway,” she whispered.
Gerard took a shaky breath. “I’m afraid.”
“I’m not,” she assured him quietly.
The door burst open and Bridget stepped in. “Oh,” she said, blushing at the realization that she’d interrupted a personal moment. “Uh...Mr. Reeve is here. He was just having his tea downstairs.”
Gerard stood up, filling his lungs with a steadying gasp as the physician came between himself and Miss Peaton. He busied himself examining her again, this time with her wakeful cooperation. He gazed into her pupils and tested her reflexes and all the rest.
“You may still be groggy for another day or two,” he announced at last. “But the worst is over now, and you will be just fine. I advise you to continue to rest. Perhaps tomorrow you can begin to get up and move about again. Eat, if you can. It will help to move the poison through your system. But do not be discouraged if the food does not stay down. Just keep trying.”
With her hands folded placidly on her lap, Miss Peaton nodded obediently.
The physician was not gone before the detective arrived as well. He went through the same questions that Gerard had asked her, and she gave him the same answers.
“Had you eaten anything once people began to arrive at the ball?” Detective Collins asked.
“No. I was so anxious, you understand. I do not normally attend events such as this. I couldn’t have eaten.”
“You had a drink, though,” Bridget spoke up. “Remember? A glass of champagne. You didn’t finish it. I took it from you when my brother asked you to dance.”
Miss Peaton’s eyes widened. “Yes, I remember now. You’re right, I had a glass of champagne.”
Gerard’s pulse quickened as he realized that, if he had let his nerves prevent him from asking her to dance, she would have finished that glass of champagne and might not have survived.
“Did it taste all right?” Detective Collins asked, scribbling something in his notepad.
“I hardly have a wide basis of comparison when it comes to champagne, Detective Collins,” Miss Peaton answered shyly. “I thought it was very sweet, but I assume that is normal.”
“I had the champagne as well, Detective. As did we all.” Bridget broke in.
Detective Collins nodded his head thoughtfully. “If you please, Your Grace, I would like the opportunity to question your staff. Kitchen maids, everybody.”
“Do you think it was one of ours?” Bridget asked, looking alarmed. The possibility had not crossed Gerard’s mind, either. He’d imagined a shadowy figure of a man being the culprit, a friend of a friend or some distant acquaintance with a grudge. Not someone that they knew and trusted.
“It’s a place to start, that’s all, Your Grace. We must begin by ruling out those who are nearest to the victim.” The detective had a placating smile on his face. He had to be accustomed to defensive clients.
“Do you think she is in further danger? What about the rest of us?” Bridget asked with fear in her voice.
“I do not know, as of yet,” Detective Collins answered. “As soon as I know anything, you will be the first to know.”
Bridget nodded. “Right. Yes, of course. I shall go and speak to the servants, and tell them to be prepared for an interview today. You can do that in the parlor downstairs?” This last was asked with a polite upturn of her voice.
“That sounds perfect, Your Grace. I thank you for your hospitality.”
Bridget seemed relieved to have something to do, and she left the room with a purposeful stride. Gerard wished that he could feel so useful. He twisted his hands behind his back as Detective Collins returned to Miss Peaton’s bedside.
“Now, Miss Peaton, I must ask you again to think back to the night of the ball. Do you remember anything else at all? Even if you think it irrelevant. Any detail could be just the clue I need.”
Gerard watched as Miss Peaton laced her fingers together. Her lips were pressed in
to an uncomfortable line.
She still feels ill. I wish he would let her alone for a while…
But he did not interrupt the detective’s work, as much as he wished to shield Miss Peaton.
“I…I don’t know. I got dressed with the Duchess and Lady Rosaline. You see, Detective, I am merely a governess at Stonehill. But the Duchess was kind enough to invite me to the baptism celebration ball. I hadn’t any gown fine enough, so the Duchess lent me an old one of hers. We went down together and she introduced me to a few people, since I know no one. Then the Duke asked me to dance.” At this she nodded towards Gerard. He smiled, remembering the thrill of excitement he’d felt when he took her hand. Before he realized that she was ill.
How wonderful an evening we could have had.
“It was shortly after the dance began that I started to feel strange. Rather sick to my stomach at first, I thought it was merely nerves. I do tend to get a nervous stomach, I suppose. But it got worse very quickly. All of a sudden, I was dizzy as anything. I don’t remember the Duke leading me towards the door for fresh air at all. The next thing I do remember, I was here.”
“Did you eat supper before the ball?” the detective asked.
“Yes, soup. I ate with Lord Limingrose as usual.”
The detective looked around at him and Gerard shook his head. “The child is fine.”
“Any enemies, Miss Peaton?” Detective Collins asked.
Miss Peaton’s eyebrows went up. “Heavens. No, I…I just work, Mr. Collins. I get up every day and I work, just like anyone else. I haven’t any sort of life outside of Stonehill, really. I can’t think of anyone who would hate me.”
“All right. Thank you, Miss Peaton. For now, just focus on resting and getting well, but if you do think of anything else, even if it seems unimportant, do let me know at once.” Detective Collins then turned to Gerard, and as he went to leave the room, he clocked his head to the side in a gesture that told Gerard he wanted to speak to him out of her earshot. Gerard followed the detective outside.
Chapter Eighteen
“Your Grace,” Detective Collins began once the door to Miss Peaton’s room was closed.
“Do you believe I did it?” Gerard asked, frustration rising in him as he remembered the long interrogations he’d been subject to after Christine’s death. “You think I poisoned another woman?”
“You must understand how it looks. From the outside. You understand that it’s nothing personal,” Detective Collins looked nervous and Gerard took a deep breath to calm the rising anger in him.
“Yes, Detective Collins. Yes, I can see how it must look. And, naturally, I will do whatever I can to cooperate so that the real culprit is found.”
Detective Collins sighed in apparent relief.
“Come, let’s continue this conversation in the parlor,” Gerard said, watching a housemaid round the corner of the hallway. He didn’t like to feel suspicious, but he couldn’t help the creeping feeling of unease that accompanied the sight of anyone else in the manor.
He led the detective into the downstairs parlor that Bridget had set aside for the detective’s use. The room was bright and cheerful, with bright yellow flowers in blue vases in front of the large windows. The mood of the room was quite at odds with the cloudy tumult in Gerard’s heart as he sat down in one of the chairs with the detective opposite him.
“I’m sure it had crossed your mind that the poisoner in this case may be the same person who…who did it last time.” Detective Collins began, taking his spectacles off of his face and wiping the lenses with the hem of his waistcoat before replacing them on his long nose.
“Yes, of course. That was the first thing that crossed my mind.”
“Pardon me for asking such a personal question, Your Grace. But it is my job to know, in this case. Are you and this governess…involved?”
Gerard bristled. He didn’t like how he was referring to Miss Peaton as, “this governess.”
She is more than a governess. She is a woman and just as important as any titled lady.
“Yes.” He answered simply, swallowing his irritation. He wanted to appear calm and cooperative. He had learned the last time that allowing his pride to turn him combative only cast more suspicion on himself.
“For how long?” Detective Collins asked.
Gerard shrugged. “It’s difficult to say with these things, isn’t it? A few weeks, I suppose.”
“All right,” Detective Collins said. He was making notes in the small black notebook he carried with him. “And who knows of this affair?”
“Only my sister and Lady Rosaline. Well, perhaps Jonathan as well, knowing Bridget. They have no secrets between them. But other than that, nobody.”
“You’re certain those are the only people who know of it?” Detective Collins asked.
Gerard leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He remembered the sight of the maid who had seen him and Miss Peaton in the hall.
“The servants may have an idea of it…”
Detective Collins nodded silently, making another note in his book.
“Perhaps a case of a jealous housemaid…?” Detective Collins said, half to himself.
“Perhaps…I don’t know.” Gerard guessed it might be something as simple as that, though it didn’t account for Christine’s murder. The possibility that the two could be totally unrelated was unsatisfying to him.
“Are there any other women who might feel…slighted by your preference for Miss Peaton?”
“You mean, any other affairs?” Gerard asked pointedly.
Detective Collins shrugged, looking apologetic.
“No. Miss Peaton is the only woman I’ve shown any interest in since Christine.”
When the detective was finished with his questioning, Gerard left him in the parlor and returned to his own room. He wanted to go back to Miss Peaton at once, but he felt so irritated after the interrogation that he wanted to take a moment to gather himself. Miss Peaton had gone through enough, she did not have to suffer his ill-temper on top of it all.
Once he had his mind back in order, he went back to her room, knocking softly.
“Yes, come in,” came her soft, gentle voice.
He pushed open the door to find her sitting up. She’d gotten dressed and the bed was made beneath her. A tray of food was next to her, though it didn’t look like she had eaten much of it.
“You’re looking better already,” he said, coming in and taking up his seat once more.
“Oh,” she chuckled shyly. “Thank you. Though I still don’t have the stomach to eat. I’ve had some tea. It’s helping.”
“Good,” he smiled. All of his fear melted away in her presence. She looked so serene and stoic that it felt as though nothing too terrible could ever happen if she was there.
“Your fiancée, Lady Christine…” Miss Peaton began gently. “They never found who killed her?”
“No. Miss Peaton…if you are frightened, I can leave here. If you think it is dangerous for you because of me…”
She shook her head and reached for his hand. He took it and she squeezed his fingers. “I’m not afraid. I was just thinking…in a way…my poisoning must be the biggest break in the case that there has been for some time. Is that right?”
“I suppose you could say so.”
“Then I’m glad. If I can, in this odd and roundabout way, help to bring about the closure that you have longed for all these years…I’m glad it happened. And…” She looked down at their hands, entwined on her lap. “I’m glad that you are here with me, Your Grace.”
“Gerard, call me Gerard,” he whispered, bringing the back of her hand to his lips.
“I couldn’t—”
“In private,” he urged, glancing towards the door. It was ajar, for propriety’s sake, but there was no one in the hall. “This once, at least.”
She hesitated still, but at last she breathed his name.
“Gerard… But you must call me Elizabeth.”
“We will find who did this to you,” he swore. “I do not want you to be afraid.”
* * *
Elizabeth was still feeling quite queasy. As the Duke squeezed her hand, she wished that she felt more like herself so that she could enjoy it better. The earnestness in his face and the gentle way he pressed his soft lips to her skin should have ignited more of a fire inside her, but her head swam most uncomfortably.
Wild Passions of a Mischievous Duchess Page 14