Once Upon a Midnight Masquerade: Scot to the Heart #3

by Charles, Jane

  “I apologize, I’ve overstepped.”

  Claresta sat up, the apples of her cheeks a lovely shade of rose. “I let you.”

  “We should return.”

  “Yes, we both have a ball to attend.”

  Chapter 9

  As soon as Claresta entered the ball with Emily and Dillon, Donovan appeared by her side. “Lady Claresta, ye look quite lovely this evenin’.”

  Her face heated as she’d been unable to forget how they’d spent the afternoon, and despite being away from him these past hours, her body still hummed with anticipation in a manner she’d never experienced before. Though it wasn’t proper what she’d done, she so wanted to learn what was to come next. Even though Esther had explained it to her, Claresta was beginning to believe that her maid had left out a few details. Besides, hearing an explanation wasn’t nearly as thrilling as experiencing the same.

  His brown eyes twinkled with mischief. “Would ye have a dance available?”

  “Yes, Mr. MacGregor. I believe this one is free.” She pointed to the supper dance even though her card was quite empty as she’d just arrived.

  “Minx,” he whispered as he penciled in his name. “I shall look forward to our waltz.”

  As would she. In fact, Claresta would be quite content to forgo all dancing this evening save the one that Donovan had claimed.

  As soon as he departed, Lord Millard appeared by her side. “I hope you saved a dance for me.” He took the card without Claresta offering it. He then frowned. “Do you think it wise to encourage Mr. MacGregor?”

  Emily stiffened as did Dillon.

  “He is a mister,” Lord Millard reminded her.

  “As is my husband,” Emily offered with a tight smile.

  “Yes, but you…” he glanced to Dillon and sniffed. “Yes, well...Lady Claresta’s father is a duke and she should marry within Society.” He then glanced back at Claresta. “Have you received word of when His Grace may return?”

  Father was to arrive in the next few days, not that she’d advise Lord Millard of such. “He and Mother have been busy with family. The heir apparent and his siblings recently arrived from America, but my parents hope to find time to bring them to London.”

  Lord Millard took a step back. “An American,” he sneered.

  His horror proved to be quite delightful. “As you know, my father’s younger brother moved to America upon completing his years at Eton and never returned. In fact, he has no intention of every doing so, but has sent his children, especially his eldest son, Mr. Mark Copeland, to learn from my father what he will need to know in the future.”

  “Your father should have been more diligent in his duty to ensure a son so that such a travesty as an American becoming the next Duke of Ellings did not become an issue.”

  Claresta gasped. How dare he blame the lack of a brother on her father, or either parent for that matter.

  “There should be laws against such inheritances,” Lord Millard muttered as he stomped off.

  “I thought your father was going to arrive in a day or two,” Emily said.

  “He is, but that is none of Lord Millard’s concern.”

  * * *

  Donovan hated waiting for his turn to take Claresta in his arms again, but there was only one dance, after this one, before his waltz and so Donovan moved to stand with Mr. and Mrs. Chambers.

  Currently, Claresta was dancing with Lord Millard and if the tight smile on her face was any indication, she hated every moment. Why hadn’t she simply turned him down?

  As the song ended, Lord Millard returned her to her guardian, then took a place beside Donovan as another gentleman came to claim the next dance.

  “Claresta appears quite parched from all the dancing she’s been doing,” Mrs. Chambers remarked to her husband.

  “I shall retrieve punch, for both of you,” Mr. Chambers offered.

  “I shall accompany you as I’m quite thirsty myself,” Lord Millard offered.

  Mrs. Chambers relaxed once the two men had walked away. “I cannot stand that…that…”

  “I’m assumin’ ye’re not talkin’ about yer husband.”

  “No, Mr. MacGregor, I am not.” She laughed. “I cannot wait for my uncle to return and rid us of Lord Millard’s presence.”

  “Are ye so certain that he will?” The ladies may believe Claresta’s father would reject the man’s suit, but often gentlemen saw matters in a different manner.

  “Quite certain, Mr. MacGregor. Quite certain.”

  The dance was just ending as Chambers and Lord Millard returned with the beverages.

  “I thought you might like a bit of refreshment as well, Mr. MacGregor,” Lord Millard offered.

  Donovan glanced at the glass of wine with wariness.

  “Just because we are in competition for Lady Claresta’s affection, does not mean that we cannot get along.”

  “Thank ye,” Donovan muttered, not certain he trusted the gentleman.

  As Claresta joined them, Mr. Chambers handed her a glass of punch. The moment she took a sip, her face contorted as she winced. “I can’t drink this.”

  Mrs. Chambers took a sip of hers and had nearly the same reaction. “It is far too tart.”

  “Lady Claresta, ye may have my glass of wine,” Donovan offered it to her.

  “Thank you, Mr. MacGregor. That is quite kind of you.”

  Lord Millard opened his mouth and shoved his glass toward Lady Claresta. “Please, take mine, my dear.”

  She ignored the offer and took Donovan’s as he offered a triumphant smile for his adversary.

  Chapter 10

  The waltz she’d been waiting for had finally arrived. Claresta gazed up at Donovan as he maneuvered her across the floor, their steps matching, and his gaze darkening by the moment. When he looked at her in such a manner, Claresta could barely catch her breath.

  “Have you decided if you will purchase the property, Mr. MacGregor?” Though it was near London, and quite convenient during the Season, her family estate was in Shropshire. Claresta might not see him until next year, which didn’t set well with her at all.

  He hitched a brow. “We are back to formality.”

  “Only in Society,” she teased.

  “I havena decided.” He executed a turn.

  “The Season will be over soon. Will you remain in London, or seek property further away?”

  “I prefer the location of the estate we toured today, with regard to the proximity to the Thames, but I’d rather see more, if there are others available.”

  “Is there any type of property in particular that you wish to find?”

  “I require an estate that is near or on the water and near a shipping line so that I can oversee our family’s shipments.”

  “Then you need to be near London.”

  “Nay. I’d prefer to be further away, near a less busy port. I just havena decided on a location I prefer.”

  Claresta couldn’t help her smile. She had the perfect place. Not only did Stoneridge Hall overlook the sea, but it was near Dover. Not that she’d mention it because Claresta didn’t want him to ask for her hand because of the estate that would come to her. She just hoped he asked for her hand, or she’d be quite heartbroken.

  “Lady Claresta, might I be so bold as to ask permission to court ye?”

  “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”

  “It didn’t begin as such, but it is what I wish, if ye wish for the same.”

  “I’d like that very much, Mr. MacGregor.”

  “Then I shall speak with yer father when he returns to London.”

  No, she couldn’t have that. Donovan didn’t yet know who her father was. Not that it should make a difference because he wanted to court her, not the daughter of a duke, and truly, that was all she’d ever wanted. Yet, her stomach churned with the idea of Donovan meeting her father. “You could speak with Chambers. He’s acting as my guardian.”

  “I shall do so, lass, at the earliest opportunity.”

/>   All Claresta could do was nod as a wave of dizziness washed over her and she stumbled.

  Donovan paused in his steps. “Are ye alright, Lady Claresta?” He stared down at her with deep concern. “Ye’ve nearly lost all color in yer cheeks.”

  Oh dear, the churning in her stomach had nothing to do with Donovan meeting her father, but something else entirely. She grasped his arm as her stomach cramped, causing her to bend forward.

  “What is it, lass?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m dizzy, and my stomach…”

  Before she could complete her sentence, Donovan swept her up in his arms and marched toward the foyer where he was met by Lady Bentley. “A chamber please. Lady Claresta has suddenly taken ill.”

  She nodded then turned toward the stairs as Donovan barked to the footman, “Find a doctor.”

  * * *

  Donovan paced inside the parlor, waiting for word of Claresta’s health. Mr. and Mrs. Chambers waited with him, along with the other families who had someone take ill.

  There were only five but that was enough to cause concern amongst the guests, and the ball ended before the supper was concluded.

  “We’ve narrowed everything down to a single bottle of wine,” Bentley announced as he entered the parlor. “My brothers and I have spoken to everyone and the only commonality of those who were stricken ill was that they’d all partaken in the wine.”

  “Nearly everyone at the ball drank wine. Why aren’t all of yer guests ill?” Donovan demanded.

  “We’ve determined that each drank glasses poured from the same bottle, one the footman had just opened, as we understand the case to be.”

  “Yer footman poisoned the wine?”

  “No,” Bentley answered. “Frederick had opened the bottle, then stepped away from his post to assist a maid. When he returned, the bottle had already been poured into glasses. He did not see who did the pouring, but did recall who took those glasses, and they coincide with those who became ill.”

  “Lady Claresta dinna take a glass,” Donovan argued.

  “No, but he recalls Lord Millard taking two glasses. Lord Millard explained that he gave one to you, which you gave to Lady Claresta.”

  “Is Lord Millard ill?” Though it was horrible to wish such on anyone, Donovan wasn’t nearly as concerned for the pompous lord as he was Lady Claresta.

  “He only took a sip and then set it aside because he didn’t care for the taste.”

  Mr. Chambers stood. “Was he more specific as to why the taste was disagreeable?”

  “He couldn’t explain, it was an almost earthy taste and he assumed it was his palate and not something wrong with the wine, as Lady Claresta didn’t seem to mind the taste.”

  Perhaps the lingering tartness from the punch Claresta had first sampled masked the odd taste of the wine.

  “As I said, once we spoke to everyone who’s taken ill, the commonality was that they, or someone on their behalf, had retrieved a glass of wine poured from that bottle,” Bentley concluded.

  “Does anyone know who poured the wine?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

  “Nobody remembered it being poured, only that the glasses were on the table.”

  Donovan looked to Mr. Chambers. “Did you happen to see anyone?”

  “No. I went for punch, which was kept with the sweets in a separate room. Lord Millard went to retrieve the wine and met me back in the corridor.”

  “He also claims not to have seen anyone.”

  This was Donovan’s fault; if he’d drunk the wine instead of giving it to Claresta, she’d not be suffering right now. However, Lord Millard had also offered his glass, so perhaps they’d both be abed ill.

  “Do you know what kind of poison?” a gentleman asked. “Or, if it was even poison? Could it have been a bad bottle of wine?”

  “The bottles of wine served this evening came from a recent shipment.” Bentley explained.

  “If poisoned, then what kind?” another asked. “And to what reason?”

  “The doctor is trying to identify what has made everyone ill. As to the purpose, we do not yet know.”

  Donovan looked into Bentley’s eyes, trying to gauge the truthfulness of his answer. “Will Lady Claresta recover?”

  Bentley held the look, his face somber. “The doctor isn’t certain. Until he knows the cause, he cannot promise a recovery. He said he’d know better as the evening progresses and if his patients begin to recover or decline.”

  Donovan’s chest constricted as his throat tightened. He’d finally found his Juliet, was falling in love with her and now he might lose her?

  No, he couldn’t lose her. Donovan wouldn’t allow it to happen and if this doctor couldn’t save her, he’d find one who would.

  “Who would put poison in a bottle of wine, or was it only added to the glasses?” a woman cried.

  Bottle or glasses, it didn’t really matter. It was still a malicious act and once Donovan found out who the evildoer was, the man would not be long for this world, especially if he lost Claresta.

  “That is exactly what I’d like to know and why we’ve sent for the Runners,” Bentley answered.

  A moment later, the doctor appeared.

  “I do believe all will recover. I’ve made our patients as comfortable as possible and all we need to do is wait for the symptoms to subside.”

  “Do ye have any idea what kind of poison?” Donovan asked.

  “Daffodils or tulips,” the doctor answered.

  Everyone stared at him. “I doona understand.”

  “Each person ill is having a similar reaction to a few cases I’ve come across when a child has either eaten tulips or daffodils from their gardens. The symptoms usually don’t last through the night, but they’ll need to rest for another day to recover.”

  “Certainly someone would have noticed flowers in their wine?” a woman scoffed.

  “They could have ground the bulb into a fine powder, or smashed the petals to make a paste or withdraw the liquid...there are any manner of ways to mask the flower, as all parts are poisonous.”

  It was a relief to hear his words, but until Claresta left the chamber on her own accord, Donovan would keep vigil.

  “I promise that we will make certain everyone is comfortable and a servant will sit with each of our guests,” Bentley assured them.

  That was all well and good, but Donovan wasn’t leaving the manor, though the others seemed willing enough to do so.

  “If anyone wishes to remain, we can have chambers prepared,” Lady Bentley offered.

  Mr. and Mrs. Chambers shared a look. “We would like to remain, in the event that Claresta does worsen, or needs me,” Mrs. Chambers announced.

  “Of course,” Lady Bentley agreed.

  “Whisky?” Bentley asked after the remainder of the guests had departed or were shown to a chamber.

  “Aye, if ye doona mind.”

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I did,” Bentley laughed as Donovan followed him back to the library.

  “As yer step-mother married my uncle, does that make us cousins?”

  Bentley frowned. “I’ve not thought of it, but I do believe it does,” he answered as he poured.

  “May I ask ye a question?” He could have talked to Bridges and his wife, but Donovan was not at their home. He was with Bentley, and though they’d not cared for one another at first, Donovan had respect for a man who had protected and cared for his step-mother as Bentley had done for Rose.

  “Certainly.”

  “How long did it take ye to fall in love with yer wife?”

  Bentley snorted. “Hardly any time at all. I was too foolish to come to terms with it before it was almost too late, however.”

  Donovan nodded.

  “Is this about Lady Claresta?”

  “Aye,” he admitted. “How is it possible that I feel that she is a part of me when I barely ken the lass?”

  “Because it is your soul who seeks her. It’s our minds that stand in the way,” Lady Bentley said a
s she glided into the room.

  Perhaps that was why he longed for Claresta but rationally he assumed it was impossible to feel so deeply so soon.

  Chapter 11

  It was the longest, most miserable night of her life, and when Claresta first became ill, she was certain that she was going to die. Why would anyone put something in the Bentleys’ wine and make so many people ill?

  “How are you feeling?” Lady Bentley asked after she entered the bedchamber.

  “Better,” Claresta answered weakly. She’d gotten some sleep, but not all that much.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry we are that this happened.”

  “It isn’t your fault.” At least she didn’t think the hosts would have poisoned their own guests. But a servant could have. “Did you find out who did this?”

  She shook her head. “No, but Bow Street is investigating.”

  Bow Street! They were called for serious crimes. Of course, poisoning people was serious, but what if someone… “Did anyone die?”

  “No,” Lady Bentley quickly assured her. “However, we need to find out who did this before they harm someone else.”

  Claresta agreed.

  “I shall leave you to rest. I just wished to check on you and Mr. MacGregor has been quite anxious for news about your recovery.”

  Had he been? “Mr. MacGregor returned this morning?”

  “Mr. MacGregor never left,” Lady Bentley said. “And neither did Mr. and Mrs. Chambers.”

  He’d never left? Perhaps he’d remained because Donovan was a relation to the Earl of Bentley.

  “He’s been worried about you and feels partially responsible for offering you his wine.”

  “How was he to know that it would make me ill?”

  “That was what my husband tried to explain,” Lady Bentley chuckled. “I have a feeling that Mr. MacGregor is quite taken with you and will not rest until you’ve fully recovered.”

  Claresta’s face flamed and her body grew warm, but it wasn’t a fever from the poison. Donovan said that he wanted to seek permission to court her but knowing that he’d not left proved how much he really did care.