His Perfect Lady

by Jenn Langston

  “But why not kill you, too? Why leave it up to the authorities?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps to ensure the investigation didn’t bring any light to the killer’s connection to this. If I’m in custody, they have no reason to dig further.”

  Rawson offered him a brandy, which Jonathan gratefully accepted. After finishing the glass and two more, he dropped himself into a chair. Having both the furniture and brandy made him glad he offered his friend the use of Linwood’s dowager house. It had turned out to be a perfect hideout as well as a meeting place for the two men.

  “When is this ever going to end? Even with the men I hired, no one has been able to locate any information to incriminate this investment. All the paperwork has been filed. Honestly, I’m impressed with how legitimate it appears.”

  “I’m to blame for that.” Rawson shook his head. “Between Dudgery and I, we did everything we could to make it appear up to your standards.”

  “Well, I suppose I should be flattered. However as it turns out, we’re at a standstill until we can uncover something.”

  Sighing, Jonathan leaned back in the chair and tried to think of what they had missed. Dudgery himself held all the knowledge, and by default, all the cards. The only way to obtain information from him would be to bribe someone on his staff. The plan had many risks, but they were running out of options.

  “How is Catherine holding up through all this?”

  Mention of his wife made Jonathan wince. He’d still been unable to reclaim the old Catherine. Similar to their search of knowledge about Dudgery, Rawson’s investigation into Catherine’s previous husband’s lives came up with nothing.

  “Bringing her to Linwood has been a help. Most surprising, my aunt has been instrumental in helping Catherine come back to herself. Unfortunately, she has also demanded I exile myself from the manor at least twice a day to force my wife to engage in other activities that don’t include me. I don’t know what those women are doing to entertain themselves, but I’m growing weary of being left to my own devices.”

  “I wish I could be of aid. Being in hiding has greatly limited my usefulness.”

  Rising, Jonathan clapped his friend on the shoulder. “It won’t last long. Soon Dudgery will make a mistake, then we’ll have him. After that, I firmly believe your father will rethink disinheriting you, and your life can return to normal.”

  When Jonathan arrived back at the manor house, it was almost time for dinner. However, the staff buzzed with activity. They moved about the house, no one making eye contact with him or offering any explanations. Hurrying to the drawing room, he found Aunt Mildred with his two younger brothers.

  “What about the maze?” she asked. “You know how much she loves spending time there.”

  “We checked it twice,” Darin replied in a solemn voice.

  Pain twisted Jonathan’s heart. They were talking about Catherine. She’d left him again. His hands itched, making him want to smash his fist into the wall in frustration. His breathing came out in gasps as his constricted chest withheld air. How could she do this a second time? Didn’t she realize how her absence tore at his soul?

  “How long has she been missing?” At the sound of his voice, all three heads turned to him with guilty expressions. No doubt remained in his mind. Catherine wasn’t here.

  “Don’t worry, Jonathan.” Aunt Mildred hastened to her feet. “We have no reason to believe any harm has befallen her. Every time you leave, she rides out over the land. However, she normally returns after an hour or two.”

  Jonathan froze. He had no idea his aunt had been allowing Catherine to wander the estate alone. What if Dudgery or Berwick had found her? He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the myriad of images clouding his mind. Catherine would be all right. She had to be.

  “And this time?” he prodded, not willing to listen to excuses.

  “She left before luncheon.”

  Sucking his breath as terror clutched his heart, Jonathan closed his eyes against the pain. Sideon had been murdered, and now Catherine was out there unprotected.

  “She couldn’t have gone far. She’s taken to riding Viola lately.”

  Jonathan’s eyes shot open as hope burned within him. Surely if she intended to leave him, she wouldn’t have chosen the lame horse. Ever since breaking her leg, Viola’s movement remained limited.

  After exchanging a few more words about the places they had searched for Catherine, Jonathan realized only one place remained where she could be. Jumping on his stallion, he rode out, praying she merely lost track of time.

  When he came within sight of his and Catherine’s special place, his body sagged. She wasn’t there. However, in the distance he noticed something in the grass. His heart seized as he pushed his stallion harder. Someone lay unmoving upon the grass.

  Relief flooded him to see the shape was male, but it quickly transformed to trepidation. Was this a trap? He dismounted and tentatively stepped toward the unmoving form. Flipping the man over, Jonathan gasped. Dudgery. He was dead.

  From the look of it, he’d suffered a rather painful passing. Running a hand across his forehead, Jonathan felt his head begin to throb. Who had killed Sideon and Dudgery? Had one killed the other, only to find themselves murdered? Jonathan shook his head. That didn’t make sense. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

  And where was Catherine? The relief he had felt vanished. Could his wife have been murdered as well? He could barely breathe at the thought. He needed to find her.

  Straightening his back, Jonathan scanned the horizon. His breath died as his body went cold. Another body lay under the shade of the trees. A female form.

  Sprinting across the field, he could hardly see through his pain and anger. God, let her be alive.

  He dropped to his knees and pulled the limp body of his wife into his arms. Anguish pumped through his veins as he bellowed in a painful rage. His absolute failure as a husband cost Catherine her life.

  He never should have listened to his aunt and left the estate. It was his job to protect her. He clutched her tighter, needing her to fill the void opening up in his chest. Agonizing pain filled him as tears slipped down his cheeks.

  Suddenly her body began convulsing in his arms. Although the movement brought him such acute relief, it alarmed him as well. But she was alive. Leaning back, he took in her ashen face, the angry red splotches on her cheeks, and eyes that were rolled back in her head.

  The sight clogged his throat in terror. She was dying. Ignoring the band tightening around his chest, he sprung into action. He would do whatever necessary to save her.

  Positioning her across the saddle, he mounted behind her, clutched her body to him, and raced to Linwood. Tears of misery burned his eyes, and he could barely breathe, but he pushed forward.

  “Fetch the doctor now!” he yelled to the stable hand before rushing the precious bundle cradled in his arms into the house.

  Cries sounded behind him as he barreled through the house to Catherine’s bedchamber. He didn’t know what had befallen her, but he would find out. Once in the bedchamber, he and the housekeeper stripped Catherine of her clothing.

  No wounds were visible, and her cold flesh didn’t warn of a fever. Icy pricks of fear stabbed into his head. How could they fix her if they couldn’t discover what the problem was?

  As her body began shaking again, he wrapped her in a dressing gown and tucked her into the blankets.

  “What can I do, my lord?” Mrs. Balton whispered.

  “Pray.” The hollowness in his voice surprised him.

  Once the housekeeper left, he climbed beside his wife and pulled her petite body against him. After his mother had died of a fever and his friend had suffered from an infection caused by a gunshot, he’d made it his business to learn as much as he could about those conditions. But this . . . This was nothing he’d seen before.

  By the time Dr. Ramon arrived, Jonathan had almost torn the bedchamber apart in frustration.

  “What happened?
” Dr. Ramon asked, his voice aggravatingly calm.

  “I found her like this. She has no visible wounds and no fever. Another man lay nearby, looking similar, but he was dead.”

  The doctor’s eyes bulged as he hurried over to Catherine’s side. “Good God. Move aside.”

  Jonathan hurried away and began pacing the room, all the while not removing his eyes from the motionless form on the bed. He couldn’t live if she died. Too many years he suffered without her, and he refused to do so any longer.

  His hands clenched and unclenched as worry and rage alternated control of his body. The doctor took too long. Wasted too much time. Jonathan stopped and approached the bed. Catherine still wasn’t moving. He couldn’t handle it any longer. They needed another doctor.

  “Quick,” the doctor called out. “I need water.”

  Jonathan whipped around to do his bidding when he saw Mrs. Balton’s retreating back.

  “What can I do?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.

  The doctor’s grim eyes met his. “She’s been poisoned. I’ve seen it before.”

  “Then you can fix her? Give her the cure?”

  Dropping his gaze, the doctor turned his back.

  Red tinted Jonathan’s vision as the room spun around him. With ringing ears, Jonathan stumbled toward the bed to study his beloved’s pain-filled face. He would rip the world apart in less than ten minutes in order to save her. Nothing held more importance.

  “We need to get as much liquid into her as we can. If we can flush the toxin out of her system, then maybe . . .” Dr. Ramon took a deep breath as his eyes fell back on Catherine.

  Jonathan nodded, relieved to have some direction. “Is that the method that has worked in the past?”

  Silence reigned.

  Crippling pain shot through Catherine’s stomach. She cried out and tried to pull herself up to alleviate it, but her limbs wouldn’t obey the order. Using every ounce of strength within her, she tried to move, but only felt her head slightly pivot. Her freezing body refused to perform the simple task.

  Something warm covered both her cheeks as a muffled voice yelled at her through a tunnel. A solid object touched her lips and liquid filled her mouth. What was happening? She didn’t want to drink. The painful throbbing in her stomach hadn’t passed. The terrifying voice demanded she consume the liquid. More scared of the anger in his tone, she did as bid.

  The agony increased as the water mixed in her stomach. She futilely tried to struggle as the glass returned to her lips. What had she done wrong to be put through such torture? Forcing the drink down her throat, tears, which felt like boiling pitch, trailed out of her eyes and down her cold cheeks.

  Where was Jonathan? Had the curse claimed him, or was it taking its revenge on her instead? She hoped for the latter. Death would be preferable to the horror she currently endured. She wouldn’t fight it. She would welcome the dark, cold arms of eternal slumber.

  Her body relaxed as the pain began to subside. Freedom floated beyond her. She need only to reach out and grasp it to her. Weightlessness filled her. She wanted to smile, to grab on to the wondrous feelings as Heavenly music echoed in her head. So beautiful. So wonderful. So safe. Willing herself to grasp it, her body obeyed.

  But . . . a tantalizing sound invaded her senses. It called to her, beckoning her to return.

  “Damn it, Catherine,” Jonathan yelled. “Don’t leave me. Fight it. Come back to me. I love you.”

  The torment in his broken voice called out to her as nothing else could. How could she go now? She’d promised to never leave him again.

  The decision brought pain, as she fell like a rock sinking to the bottom of the river. She gasped for breath as she returned to the ground. Warmth surrounded her as her body rocked back and forth. The movement brought agony ripping through her, disentangling her from reality.

  “What have you done to my niece?” Berwick demanded.

  Jonathan rubbed his temples, then centered his itchy eyes on the red-faced man. When he found out who on his staff had alerted the baron of Catherine’s condition, they would be immediately terminated. He couldn’t deal with this right now while his wife lay dying in her bed.

  “Last night, I found her unconscious next to Dudgery’s body.”

  Berwick’s mouth fell open. “Good God, what happened?”

  “The doctor believes they were both poisoned. Catherine must have fought because she clearly didn’t receive the same dose as Dudgery, or she would be dead.” His voice cracked on the last word, but he didn’t care about showing weakness in front of Berwick. The horrific night he’d spent forcing Catherine to drink and searching for signs of life had left him incapable of wasting extra energy on anything.

  “Can he save her?”

  The baron’s weak voice gave Jonathan the ability to slightly soften his opinion of the man. After all, his niece faced death.

  Swallowing down the thick emotion, Jonathan whispered, “I don’t know.”

  In an instant, the baron jumped to his feet. “Then get a new doctor. You have the funds to do so. Fix this. Fix her.”

  Closing his eyes against the torture, Jonathan tried to keep himself under control. He refused to suffer a breakdown with an audience. He welcomed any advice, but he couldn’t abide the accusatory tone.

  “Dr. Ramon is consulting with other doctors today.” Jonathan opened his eyes and focused on Berwick’s face. “I will do whatever is in my power to save her. Of that, you can be assured.”

  The man slumped his shoulders. “I believe you. I just . . . This isn’t easy. Can I see her?”

  Although Jonathan wanted to deny his request, he knew his wife’s uncle had every right to see her. Standing, Jonathan took him up to Catherine’s bedchamber.

  The smell of fresh flowers and clean linens greeted him as he opened the door. His staff thankfully understood his reluctance to leave Catherine in a stifling sickroom. His wife deserved better.

  “Jonathan,” Aunt Mildred greeted him as she stood up. “What is he doing here?”

  “Catherine’s uncle wishes to look in upon his niece.”

  His aunt remained by Catherine with narrowed eyes. Clearly she didn’t intend to move from the bedside. Somehow his beloved wife had worked herself into Aunt Mildred’s affections. He hoped Catherine would live long enough to realize the feat she accomplished. The bleak thought made him clench his teeth. Catherine would survive. She had to.

  Berwick gasped as he approached the bed. “She’s so green. How could this happen? Who did this?”

  “We don’t know yet, but I will find out.” Jonathan’s vow rang out in the quiet room. Helplessness engulfed him, clogging his throat. Under the covers of the king-size bed, Catherine appeared so weak and defenseless. How could anyone do this to her?

  Hours later, Jonathan realized no one could answer the simple question. As he watched the magistrate leave his office, he tried to block out the image of the man’s pessimistic face. If he didn’t believe he could find the culprit, hope didn’t exist for them.

  “How are you holding up?” Aunt Mildred asked as she entered the room and dropped herself into a chair.

  “The authorities don’t appear as though they will be able to catch the person responsible.” Jonathan placed his elbows on the desk and lowered his head into them. “What can we do?”

  “Dr. Ramon just left, but he feels encouraged by Catherine’s state this morning. I get the feeling he didn’t expect her to last the night.”

  Although the words were meant to soothe, a stab of agony pierced his heart. If the doctor had already given up, what hope did they have? An unwelcome tear slid down his face, but he brushed it away before it would be noticed.

  The doctor’s fear wasn’t farfetched. He would never forget the feeling of Catherine’s motionless body in his arms as her life slipped away. Her face appeared so peaceful. Jonathan repressed a shudder as he shook his head, unable to bear the memories any longer.

  “Has he learned anything more from
others in his profession?”

  “They say the same. We must give her fluid and allow her body to dispel the poison. Only then will she mend.”

  Raising his face, he looked at his aunt with emotionless eyes. She appeared composed, but he could see his misery reflected in her expression.

  “If the doctor is done, I’ll take the next shift.” Jonathan stood and moved around the desk.

  His aunt drew herself to her feet and lightly touched his shoulder.

  “Don’t give up. She is a fighter and as long as she perseveres, everything will turn out all right.”

  He patted her hand and exited the room. Her empty assurance did little to comfort him. She couldn’t see the future, and therefore couldn’t promise him anything.

  Opening the door, his wife’s low moan had him sprinting to her side. Her ashen face flopped around on the pillow, making the icy hand of fear squeeze his heart. He gently slid his arm behind her to lift her head. Placing the cup to her lips, she drank instead of fighting him. That minute difference brought him such joy.

  As Catherine settled against his chest, Jonathan felt the faintest glimmer of hope building inside of him. Even after being summoned back downstairs, the feeling remained. Perhaps Aunt Mildred was right. Maybe Catherine would live.

  “Jonathan,” Lawrence called. “You should’ve seen it! We caught the biggest fish ever.”

  “Hush.” Darin clamped a hand over the young boy’s mouth. “He doesn’t want to hear.”

  Jonathan bent down to peer into Lawrence’s now-deflated face. “Of course I want to hear. I wouldn’t have asked Mr. Rawson to take you fishing if I didn’t want to hear about all the fun.”

  “They had a great time until Lawrence decided to use himself as bait,” Rawson informed him, shaking his head.