“Oh, yes, of course,” Rose hurried to say, blushing a bit. “Frederick was the picture of health leading up to and throughout the dinner party he was hosting, but after dinner he began experiencing horrible stomach pains and he soon could barely stand upright. Obviously, the guests did not remain long after that, but within hours we heard that he was dead.”
“Hmmm, I see,” Dr. Orfila murmured, before turning to Simon. “As his cousin, do you know of any other symptoms that may have appeared after everyone left?”
Simon was very grave in his response. “By that time, Frederick was unable to stand on his own. I helped him to his room and offered to help my aunt care for him. For hours, he had profuse diarrhea and vomiting. In all my years, I have never seen someone…expel so many fluids in such a short amount of time. We tried to get him to drink water and tea, but he was simply unable to keep anything down. The doctor we called in suspected cholera, but I never quite believed that. And he died within seven hours of the initial stomach pain.”
Rose reached over for Simon’s hand and squeezed it gently. Not able to look at her, he just took her hand more firmly in both of his and clung to her. He hadn’t realized how much he would need the support, her support, as he remembered the death of his cherished cousin and friend.
Dr. Orfila responded with quiet assurance. “I believe that you are correct, Mr. Trumbull. I do not think your cousin had cholera. I believe he was poisoned with arsenic.”
“Arsenic?” Rose said, her face lighting up with hope. “Didn’t I read that metallic poisons, like arsenic, can be detected in the hair and fingernails even years after a poisoning?”
“Very good, Miss Warren. That is correct.”
“But wouldn’t Frederick have had to ingest an awful lot of arsenic for it to kill him so quickly?” Simon asked uncertainly.
“Not as much as you would think, no, but because you said your cousin appeared in very good health up to the night in question, I suspect he had not been poisoned over time, but rather received an extremely toxic dose of something the night of his death. Something like La Cantarella.”
“Isn’t that what Lucrezia Borgia was rumored to have used to murder her political rivals?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Dr. Orfila replied.
Simon looked at Rose. Where did she come up with some of her knowledge?
“With the poison being primarily metallic in nature, if we could provide you with a hair sample, would you be able to test for it, even after all this time?” Rose asked thoughtfully.
“Yes, actually, I could. Do you have such a sample?”
Rose looked at Simon, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rose,” he said, sick about what he was saying. “We burned everything in Frederick’s room after he died. The family was afraid of his illness being contagious. I can’t imagine where we might find a sample, except on the body itself.”
“But we can’t exhume the body without the family’s permission…without Caleb’s permission,” Rose whispered.
“I know. And that, of course, would alert him to our suspicions.” Simon sighed.
They looked at each other with equally haunted looks. They were not going to be able to bring justice to Frederick after all.
“You know, there is another way to determine a poisoning,” Dr. Orfila offered.
Rose and Simon turned to the doctor and said, “There is?”
“Yes, not only can I detect poisons in human tissue, but also on surfaces.”
“Of course!” Rose said. “If we could find the dish or glass that held the poisoned food…”
“Exactly, Miss Warren!” Dr. Orfila announced, clearly impressed with Rose’s quick thinking. “Arsenic is odorless and colorless and can be easily incorporated in food or drink, which is how I suspect your cousin was poisoned; my tests can detect even the smallest amount of residue left behind on any surface.”
“But certainly the dishes will have been washed a number of times since Frederick’s death,” Rose said, deflating somewhat. “Far too many times for us to find any remaining poison.”
Simon sat up suddenly. “What about what Caleb carried the poison in?”
“What do you mean?” Rose asked, a puzzled look on her face.
“Well, clearly Caleb had to bring the poison in a container, right? Some sort of vial or what have you. Something that—”
“—may not be washed as readily as a plate or glass!” Rose finished for him. “Simon, that is brilliant!”
Dr. Orfila said, “That is an excellent observation, Mr. Trumbull. If you could locate the mode of the poisoning and bring it to me, then I could indeed confirm the presence of arsenic or other toxins. You will, of course, have to put the murderer in the room with this mode of poisoning along with your cousin to have a compelling case, but I have no doubt you two will find a way to do this.”
“Yes, I have no doubt, as well,” Simon said, believing for the first time that he and Rose could actually solve this mystery.
Rose was nodding in emphatic agreement. “Dr. Orfila, how long do you expect to remain in London? I assume you are able to do this type of testing here?”
“Yes, yes,” Dr. Orfila assured her. “Dr. Bell has everything I need here to do the tests, but I will only be in London for two more weeks and then I return to France.”
“France is not so terribly far away, but I rather think we should try to get you what you need while you are here in town.”
“It would be more convenient and efficient, yes.” Dr. Orfila agreed.
“Then that is what we will do,” Rose said briskly.
Simon looked at her a little askance but said nothing. Already Rose was proving to be a force to be reckoned with and he decided he would much rather be on her side than against it. Simon began to grin wickedly on the inside. It was becoming very clear to him that Caleb should be afraid…very afraid.
Standing, Simon helped Rose to her feet, before offering his hand to Dr. Orfila. “I believe we have completed our business today, then. Thank you very much for your time, Doctor.”
“I am glad to be of help, Mr. Trumbull, Miss Warren. And I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
“Thank you,” Rose replied, offering her hand to the doctor for a farewell kiss. However, Dr. Orfila shook it in the same manner as he did Simon’s.
Eyes twinkling, Dr. Orfila leaned in and said, “You must forgive me. I always shake the hands of my esteemed colleagues.”
Rose blushed to the roots of her hair, obviously pleased by the doctor’s comment. She looked at Simon with her eyes shining as he had never seen before.
And Simon was thunderstruck by her beauty.
There in the tiny, dingy room, in the company of a near stranger, Simon suddenly realized that his fiancée was quite the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A pang of desire…and something else he didn’t recognize…nearly brought Simon to his knees. If the house were to begin to fall down around them, Simon would not have been able to tear his eyes off of Rose.
Minutes—or was it hours?—later, Simon heard Dr. Orfila clear his throat loudly. “Ahem…ah, shall I see you to the door?”
Snapping out of his reverie, Simon flushed and quickly took Dr. Orfila up on his offer with a brisk nod as the three of them made their way down the narrow cramped hallway, Simon practically dragging Rose along with him.
Saying a final good-bye to the doctor, Simon and Rose exited the house. Once outside, Simon eagerly took a deep sobering breath of the crisp afternoon air and, avoiding Rose’s gaze, he escorted her quickly to the waiting carriage.
Chapter Six
I find true love usually begins with a mutual respect.
—The Duke of Lancaster
When Rose and Simon approached the carriage, giggling and murmuring could be heard from inside. Simon looked at Rose with eyebrows raised.
Rose just grimaced before saying very loudly, “I think that went well, don’t you?” She gestured to Simon to continue the conversation.
“Er, yes—” Simon began.
“Louder,” Rose whispered.
Simon was utterly confused, but decided to go along with Rose to see what would happen. “Yes,” he said again with more volume. “It went very well.”
The noises in the carriage suddenly stopped and Simon reached out to open the door to the vehicle.
“No!” Rose hissed, knocking his arm away. “Wait just a moment.”
“Why are we—” Simon began, but he was interrupted by the sound of the carriage door opening.
Rose grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him back away from the vehicle and together they watched as Archie jumped out and—flashing Rose a sheepish grin—he turned to help a clearly mortified lady’s maid (Janice, Simon recalled briefly) down after him.
Judging by her disheveled appearance, and the fact that Janice couldn’t bring herself to look at anything other than the ground, it became very clear to Simon that he and Rose had interrupted a…er…private moment between the driver and Rose’s maid.
Chuckling, Simon turned to Rose and gave her a meaningful look. She blushed and smiled wryly. Obviously, Rose was aware of the relationship between her maid and her family’s driver.
Turning to her maid, Rose said, “Janice, perhaps you would be more comfortable riding with Archie on the way home?”
“Oh, yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss!” Janice replied, practically running around to the other side of the carriage.
Archie gave his thanks, as well, as he held the door open for his mistress. Rose nodded.
Simon helped Rose into the carriage and then swung himself up after her. He was surprised at her thoughtful handling of the situation with her maid and driver. Not because he didn’t think Rose was that kindhearted, but rather that her actions showed her to be an extremely observant and empathetic person.
Not many people would have recognized that riding with them would have been exceedingly uncomfortable for the young maid. Some people might have had the heart to forgive a servant such a lapse in judgment, but very few would go so far as to save them from further embarrassment.
Good Lord, what was happening to him? He really was turning into one of Rose’s female friends! He should not be noticing things like kindheartedness in one of the opposite sex. He should be thinking of one thing and one thing only. He was never going to be a grand rake if this kept up. He groaned and shook his head woefully.
“Simon!” Rose said. “Whatever is the matter?” She shifted to the other side of the carriage so that she was now seated next to him.
Turning to face her, Simon realized just how close they were—the inside of a carriage is not really that big, after all—and Rose was pressed up against him and looking at him with her large eyes filled with concern. And he found that all he wanted to do was…kiss her.
By all that was holy, Simon wanted nothing more than to lower his head and capture her full red lips with his and kiss the living daylights out of her. Even as his head was moving, bringing him mere inches from his goal, Simon wondered at the wisdom of his actions, but honestly he didn’t think he could stop even if the hounds of hell suddenly appeared before them.
Simon pressed his lips softly to hers. He slowly brushed his mouth back and forth as if testing the taste and texture and then, finding it to his liking, he deepened the kiss. He felt a moment of protest from Rose and he prepared himself to be pushed away, but then—amazingly—she pressed herself more closely to his warm chest and encircled his shoulders with her slender arms.
Letting out a soft groan of appreciation, Simon wrapped his arms equally tight around Rose’s soft feminine body and tenderly coaxed her lips apart with his tongue so that he might explore her honeyed mouth more thoroughly.
Dragging his mouth free of hers, Simon shifted his attentions to Rose’s long and slender neck.
As he peppered the sensitive skin he found there with tiny nibbling kisses, Rose sighed. “Oh Simon…” and she arched her neck, giving him even more access.
Chuckling softly, Simon found he rather liked turning this little bookworm into a purring kitten as he continued his torturous path down her neck to the curve of her shoulders. Perhaps he would spend more time in the marriage bed than he originally thought.
…
At the sound of his laughter, Rose stiffened and tried to push Simon off of her. “Stop, please!” she moaned.
Simon didn’t appear to hear her as he continued his sensual onslaught.
Why had he laughed? What had she done wrong? Did he find her inexperience amusing? What kind of fool was she to think he might care about her a little? He was a complete rake, she knew. Women, gambling, absolute notoriety. Who knows how many women he had seduced with his charm and charisma? Why not add her to his list? She was his fiancée after all, she thought scornfully.
Burning with humiliation, Rose gave Simon one last shove before moving to her original position in the carriage across from him. She willed herself not to cry as she focused on the houses passing by outside. She noted absently they were almost home already.
Rose hazarded a look at Simon. For some reason she hadn’t really expected him to let her go without a word, but there he was…just sitting there with a rather astonished look on his face.
Rose was so alarmed by the look, she almost broke her self-imposed silence to ask again if he was all right, but she was saved from having to say anything when the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her house and Simon flung open the door and jumped out.
Easing her way to the opening, Rose watched as Simon paced back and forth on the sidewalk muttering to himself. She was quickly learning that pacing was how he handled stressful situations and if the speed of the pacing was any indication, he was especially tense at the moment.
What does he have to be anxious about? Rose thought churlishly. She was the one who had been so ill-treated, not him.
“Hmph!” Rose huffed, as Archie helped her down from the vehicle. Now Simon couldn’t even be bothered to assist her himself. Drat that man! Not bothering to acknowledge Simon, Rose swept past him on her way to her door. She had just made it to the porch when she heard him call to her.
Rose had half a mind to just ignore the man, but good breeding—and a fair dose of curiosity—got the better of her. So she turned around, crossed her arms, and stared stonily at him.
When he finally stopped in front of her, Simon sighed and said, “Rose, I know you don’t want to hear my apologies, so I won’t say I’m sorry. And the truth is I’m not sure if I am sorry about kissing you—to be honest I am not particularly sure about anything right now, and as I seem to be having trouble thinking around you at the moment, I am going to go…away…now. So, er, good afternoon.”
With that Simon picked up her hand for a brief kiss and then…he was gone.
Well, gone was probably a bit of a stretch as he was actually heading in the direction of her stables, but from her perspective, Simon had left her presence and Rose felt perfectly justified in dramatizing his exit. It had been a peculiar day, after all.
First she had been complimented by Dr. Orfila and then she experienced her first kiss…with Simon, someone who clearly was as confused by the last few days as she.
“Dr. Orfila!” Rose exclaimed. In all the turmoil of the afternoon, she had almost forgotten their visit with the doctor. And she and Simon had not even planned their next steps. Now what? With the doctor only in town for two weeks, time was of the essence.
Rose was going to have to take matters into her own hands again. Simon wouldn’t like that, but really, what choice did she have?
Mind made up, Rose hurried upstairs to her writing desk and penned an invitation. In order to figure out how and when Caleb poisoned Frederick, she was going to need to get all the correct players in a room. Maybe together, she and the other partygoers could recreate the events of the evening and somehow determine Caleb’s opportune moment for the poisoning.
And perhaps, in addition to the small number of dinner party invitations, she woul
d be wise to include a separate note to Simon informing him of her intent. Maybe some advance notice would go a long way in soothing any feathers she may be ruffling by executing a plan without him.
Nodding to herself, Rose metaphorically rolled up her sleeves and went to work.
Chapter Seven
A loving heart is the beginning of an open mind, and vice versa.
—The Duke of Lancaster
Two days later, Rose was brushing her hands nervously down the front of her dress, waiting for someone to answer the door of the Trumbull house.
She had not seen or spoken to Simon since their ill-fated carriage ride home after visiting Dr. Orfila, but she had received a reply to her hastily penned note explaining her dinner party invitation. Simon agreed that it was a good idea (much to her relief), but he did make the suggestion that they hold the party at his parents’ home rather than at hers.
No more needed to be said than that, really, as Rose was painfully aware that her house was not particularly conducive to a party. There was too much furniture and not enough space for any more than the smallest handful of people.
On the rare occasions when her parents did host a party or ball, Rose and the servants made sure to clear out the appropriate space needed, but on such short notice, Rose—and apparently Simon—knew they would not be able to do so to any measure of success in time for the event.
As Rose was sending out the amended invitations—to alert the guests of the change of venue—it occurred to her that she was not particularly surprised by Simon’s foresight and consideration. In fact, it was her lack of surprise that she found the most startling.
Quite frankly, the last few days had opened her eyes to the hidden depths of her betrothed. She vaguely remembered that he had been an intelligent and intuitive child, but in the latter years his devil-may-care attitude had overwhelmed that recollection.
Not that intelligence meant he was any more honorable toward women (much less her), but she was pleased to see this other—more mature—side of Simon and she wondered if she had anything to do with it. She rather hoped she did. Certainly he had caused more than a few changes in her.
Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous) Page 5