Cast in Shadows

by Laura Landon

  In that instance, Eve knew the Duchess of Townsend was a woman who would stop at nothing to destroy anyone who got in her way of achieving what she intended. And she intended for her son to be the next Duke of Townsend. And to achieve that, Gideon needed to be eliminated. Just like his mother had needed to be eliminated in order for her to become Duchess of Townsend. And if Eve attempted to stop her, she’d be an expendable problem, too.

  Eve shifted her gaze to her father and saw his look of support. The warmth in his eyes gave her the strength and confidence she needed.

  For a moment she doubted she possessed the courage to do this, but what choice did she have? Her heart thundered in her breast and she clenched her hands in her lap to hide their trembling. With a boldness she far from felt, she turned her attention to the Duke of Townsend.

  She didn’t dare looking at Gideon. She knew if she did, she’d see his anger, his disappointment, his resentment. He would blame her for how this would destroy his family. Would hold her responsible for the lives that would forever be changed.

  But Gideon would be alive. If she knew anything with certainty, it was that she couldn’t live with herself if she did nothing, and his stepmother accomplished her goal.

  “May I speak with you in private, Your Grace?”

  “Eve, no,” Gideon said, his voice a low growl.

  She forced herself to shift her gaze to him. The cold fury that collided with her caused her heart to stumble. His unspoken demand to leave this alone slashed through her with the bludgeoning severity of a ruthless attacker. His desperation was obvious. And Eve knew that in just a few moments he would hate her forever.

  She couldn’t bear to look at his disappointment. She moved her focus to his father.

  “Your Grace?” she asked again. “May I have a word with you in private?”

  The Duke of Townsend nodded, then slid back his chair. “Very well,” he said.

  His Grace rose, along with her father. Eve rose, then turned to the duchess. “Will you join us, Your Grace?”

  “I can’t imagine why I would be interested in anything you have to say, Miss Cornwell. In fact, I find your presence in my home unbearable. I demand that you and your father leave immediately. You are no longer welcome anywhere near me or any member of my family.”

  “I assure you, Your Grace. I will leave the moment I finish speaking with His Grace.”

  “No. I demand you leave, now,” Her Grace hissed. “You can leave of your own accord, or I will have you escorted out.”

  Eve leveled Her Grace with the most intense glare she could put on her face. “And I answered that I would gladly leave, Your Grace. After I have spoken with Gideon’s father.”

  The duchess rose to her feet. “No! I want—”

  “Come, Ernesta,” Gideon’s father said. “The least we can do is hear Miss Cornwell out.”

  “I have no intention of—”

  Gideon bolted to his feet. “You will accompany Father and Miss Cornwell to the study, Your Grace,” he ordered his stepmother. His gaze was lethal, the tone of his voice deadly.

  Her Grace’s face paled. “I don’t know what has come over you, my lord,” she said, in her most haughty tone, “but it is most insulting.”

  “Nothing has come over me,” Gideon nearly shouted, “except that I want this night to be over. Now go,” he ordered, then turned to his sisters. “Go to your rooms,” he ordered with a curt nod of his head. “Go!” he repeated when his sisters didn’t rise immediately.

  They stared at their brother’s outburst, then rose and rushed from the room.

  Then Gideon turned toward his brother. The sadness Eve saw on his face broke her heart.

  “Hell, Ben,” he said, swiping his hand over his face. “I’d give anything to be able to order you to your room, too.” The smile that lifted the corners of his mouth didn’t contain a hint of humor. “But I can’t. And I’ll regret for the rest of my life that you’re going to hear this.”

  Then, as if he’d done as much as he could to spare his siblings from the inevitable, Gideon turned from where he stood and led everyone from the room.

  The Duke of Townsend nodded for his wife to follow Gideon, an order Eve expected Her Grace to ignore. But she didn’t. Her lips thinned with fury, and fire of hatred shot from her hostile glare. With a regal lift of her head and a spine so stiff she could have competed with the Queen walking down the aisle to her coronation, Her Grace stepped away from the table. As she passed Eve, however, she stopped.

  “You will regret this,” she hissed. “You can be assured of that.”

  With that, she spun on her heel and glided from the room.

  Eve walked around the end of the table. She felt like a felon on the way to his execution, and she had to reach out to steady herself when she passed one of the tall-backed chairs. She hesitated to regain her balance. A hand cupped her elbow to steady her.

  She lifted her gaze and looked at the concern and confusion in Lord Benjamin’s gaze. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she whispered. “I’d give anything in the world not to have to do this. But…” she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “…I love him,” she finished.

  Eve took a breath she prayed would give her the courage to survive this night, then took the piece of cake from Gideon’s place at the table and made her way to the study with Lord Benjamin at her side.

  They entered the room to find her father and His Grace seated on angled wingback chairs that flanked each other. Her Grace sat on the sofa facing them, her back as rigid as if a metal rod held her upright. Her profile was as intractable as if she were presiding over a court of her underlings. She looked neither left nor right when Eve entered, but waited until she was within her line of vision, then impaled her with a venomous glare so intense it could have been lethal.

  Eve took the only empty chair available, one that faced the small gathering. Her chair completed the circle.

  Gideon stood alone on the far side of the room. His back was to them and his hands were braced on either side of the window that looked out into a flower garden. He stared at the scene outside, but Eve doubted he noticed one detail of what he saw. He didn’t turn when Lord Benjamin closed the door behind him.

  Like his brother, Lord Benjamin didn’t sit. He stood behind his father as if he anticipated that what Eve was about to tell them would not provide him with the opportunity to relax.

  “I take it you have something important to say, Miss Cornwell,” the duke said, his voice hinged on the edge of frustration.

  Eve cleared her throat. She’d never been so terrified in all her life. “Yes, I do. But before I begin, I want you to know that I take no pleasure in what I’m about to tell you. None.”

  “Then perhaps you might want to reconsider saying anything at all,” Her Grace said. The sharp cut of her tone and her hostile words were enough to draw blood. “No doubt you would find it much…safer to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

  “I’m sure I would, Your Grace. But my silence wouldn’t ensure Lord Sheffield’s safety. Would it?”

  Eve didn’t wait to see the daggers she knew would be in Her Grace’s eyes, but turned her attention to Gideon’s father. She needed to get this over as quickly as possible. The longer she and the duchess sparred, the more effective Her Grace would be at minimizing Eve’s accusation.

  “Your Grace,” she said. “I know you are aware of the efforts my father and I have made to discover the cause of Lord Sheffield’s seizures.”

  “Yes,” he answered. “The duchess and I are grateful for what you’ve done.”

  Eve ignored his wife’s inclusion in his words of appreciation. “Father and I considered several options, and made several attempts to discover the cause of his lordship’s seizures. Through a process of elimination, as well as the files we studied from Dr. Milton, and a journal written by Gideon’s mother, we made several discoveries. These are discoveries you must be made aware of.”

  The Duke of Townsend was visibly shocked. “What discov
eries would those be?” he asked.

  “The first finding is that your first wife and your son both suffered from the same affliction.”

  “That doesn’t come as a surprise, Miss Cornwell,” the duchess countered with a wave of her hand through the air. “Everyone knew Lord Sheffield inherited his mother’s mental…weakness. Their attacks mirrored each other.”

  Eve took a deep breath. “Neither Lord Sheffield nor his mother had a weakness. Mental or physical,” she finished.

  The duchess glared at her with an icy chill. “How can you suggest such a thing? You’ve seen Lord Sheffield’s attacks. You were with him when he suffered one of his seizures. Such violence can only be caused by a mental disorder.”

  “There are other causes, Your Grace. As you well know.”

  The Duke of Townsend sat forward in his chair. “What causes?” he asked.

  Eve took a deep breath. “Certain poisons can cause the same violent seizures.”

  The Duke of Townsend’s eyes widened. “Poisons? Are you suggesting my son―and my wife―may have been poisoned?”

  “That’s impossible,” Her Grace said, her voice nearly a yell. “You’re as insane as the people with whom you work. I refuse to stay here and listen to such nonsense.” The duchess rose to her feet. Her husband’s words stopped her from leaving.

  “Sit down, Ernesta,” he ordered.

  Eve avoided looking at the duchess. She didn’t want to see the murderous glare she knew would be aimed in her direction. She continued.

  “The first indication Father and I noticed was that Lord Sheffield’s seizures didn’t resemble most other seizures with which we’d dealt. I won’t go into the details of those differences, but they caused us to look for other causes to the attacks.

  “We considered several outside influences that might prompt a seizure. One of those outside influences was the food that Lord Sheffield was eating. At this point we enlisted Lord Sheffield’s nurse, Lettie, to assist us. She arrived daily to prepare the food he would eat each and every day.”

  “What did you hope to gain by this experiment?” His Grace asked.

  “We hoped to eliminate any foods that his lordship might not be able to tolerate, any foods that might initiate a seizure. Our hope was that by avoiding these foods, it would enable him to live a life free of seizures.”

  “Did you discover anything to which his body might have a negative reaction?”

  Eve shook her head. “What we discovered was that as long as Lord Sheffield only ate foods prepared by Lettie, he was free of all seizures.”

  Furrows deepened across His Grace’s forehead. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Lettie fed his lordship every food that he’d previously been eating, but with no adverse effect. Therefore, what we concluded was that it wasn’t the food that was the cause of the seizures, it was where that food had been prepared.”

  The frown on His Grace’s forehead deepened. “And where was this food prepared?”

  “Here. At Townsend Manor.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Her Grace said. She slashed her hand through the air in an act of dismissal.

  “It’s not preposterous. And now we know it’s a fact.” Eve turned to face the Duke of Townsend. She wanted to make sure he understood what she was about to tell him.

  “Your son, the Marquess of Sheffield, was being poisoned.”

  The silence that filled the room stretched into what seemed an eternity. Finally, His Grace shook his head, as if he might have misunderstood her.

  “Someone was poisoning my son?” he asked, his tone filled with disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “Intentionally?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “By adding certain poisons to foods your son especially liked.”

  “Why?” His Grace demanded. “Who would want to harm my son?”

  Eve’s heart pounded in her breast. She’d reached the point of no return. She’d come to the place where her next words would seal her fate. Would cause Gideon to hate her forever.

  She took a trembling breath and spoke. “I can’t say,” she answered. “For that information you will have to ask Her Grace.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Eve’s breath caught in her throat while she waited for everyone in the room to digest what she’d said. She thought her heart may have forgotten how to beat, and hoped it would start again soon.

  His Grace sat immobile, his gaze focusing on where his wife sat.

  The duchess looked as frozen as one of the marble statues Eve had seen when she’d visited a museum in London. The whiteness of her face matched the paleness of the cut marble. But her panic-filled glare gave her away.

  The expression on Lord Benjamin’s face, however, affected Eve the most. The pained look of disbelief ripped her heart from her breast. This was the pain Gideon had wanted to avoid. He’d been willing to risk death to keep his family from discovering the truth.

  Eve slowly moved her gaze to where Gideon stood. His head dropped low between his outstretched arms. The material of his jacket stretched tighter across his broad shoulders. But most telling were his fists tightened to white knuckles anchored on both sides of the window. He was all angry sinew and strength. All fury waiting to be released.

  Eve waited for someone to speak. Finally, the duchess broke the silence. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said with an icy tone to her voice. “I don’t know the first thing about poison.”

  “That may be,” Eve countered. “But I’m sure your cook, Mrs. Woodman does. She was the one who baked the cookies that contained the poison.”

  A lengthy silence followed during which the Duchess of Townsend glared at her with a savage look that blazed hatred, and threatened worse.

  “Ernesta?” the duke questioned.

  “Lies, Edward! These are all lies!”

  Eve kept her gaze focused on the duchess’s contemptuous glare. She knew looking away would show weakness and Her Grace would be relentless in her attempt to make Eve look like a liar and a fool. “They’re not lies, Your Grace. And you know it. When the poison failed to kill Lord Sheffield, you hired Clyve Woodman to kill him. He was the person who shot him, then attacked him when the bullet failed to kill him. The plan was to set his house on fire to conceal the fact that his lordship had been murdered before the fire.”

  “Ernesta?” the duke demanded. “Is this true?”

  “Of course not!” she screamed. “These are all lies. Cruel, vicious lies to ruin our lives. You can’t believe anything this liar says. She’s obviously insane.”

  Eve released a deep sigh to calm her nerves, then turned to face the duke. “You are welcome to believe what you want, Your Grace,” she said to Gideon’s father, “after you have heard everything. But first, may I suggest that you call for Mrs. Woodman and ask her to answer my accusations?”

  “Absolutely not!” Her Grace yelled. Her voice was strident and filled with hatred. “You will not involve the staff in this preposterous charge.”

  “And we will not find out the truth unless we do,” Eve countered.

  The silence that followed was deafening. All eyes focused on Gideon’s father, awaiting his decision.

  “Surely you’re not considering talking to Cook, are you Edward? That would be the most—”

  “Enough, Ernesta,” the duke interrupted. He turned to his son. “Have Wills send for Mrs. Woodman, Benjamin.”

  “I don’t believe this!” Her Grace shouted. “Surely you don’t believe one word this lunatic is saying. She’s crazy, I tell you. Her mind is as demented as the people you allow to live at Shadowdown.”

  Gideon’s brother left the room to find the butler and instruct him to send for Mrs. Woodman. A few moments later, the door opened and the cook entered.

  The woman bobbed as was expected in the presence of His Grace. She was much as Eve had pictured her. There was nothing gentle about her. She was a coarse looking woman who’d obvious
ly lived a hard life. Her features were plain, her expression unemotional, her pale eyes lifeless and cold. Eve shivered. She could imagine her adding poison to her cookie dough without a hint of remorse.

  “Mrs. Woodman,” His Grace acknowledged.

  “You sent for me, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Woodman. I would like to ask you a few questions.”

  Eve expected Mrs. Woodman’s eyes to search out Her Grace, but her focus didn’t move. Her gaze remained on her employer. She didn’t once look at the woman who’d brought her with her when she came to Townsend Manor. Eve found that odd.

  “If you want to talk to me about my son, Your Grace, I don’t know nuthin’ about what he was up to. Or why he would do what they said he did.”

  “No, Mrs. Woodman. It’s not your son I’d like to discuss. It’s you, and some allegations that have come to my attention.”

  Cook’s cold glare met Eve’s. An icy shiver raced down her spine.

  The Duke of Townsend rose to his feet. “We know what you’ve done, Mrs. Woodman. We know that you added poison to food you sent to Lord Sheffield. This poison caused his seizures. The question is why? And who paid you to poison my son?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Your Grace. I haven’t poisoned anyone. You’ve been lied to.”

  Eve rose from her chair and held out the piece of cake she’d brought with her. “This is the piece of cake that was served to Lord Sheffield. If it doesn’t contain poison, then you won’t mind eating it, will you?” Eve asked.

  Cook’s eyes opened wide. “No,” she whispered. She took a step away from the cake.

  “I insist,” Eve said, extending the plate. “Prove that it doesn’t contain poison.”

  Cook took another step back. Her frantic gaze darted to the Duchess of Townsend. She shook her head so violently strands of her graying hair escaped the pins holding them and sprang forward. It gave Cook a wild and frightening appearance.

  “I’m not taking the blame for this,” she yelled as she looked at the duchess. “The poison was your idea. I was only followin’ orders.”

  The duchess glared at her. “Shut up, you fool!” She shot to her feet. “Edward, you can’t believe—”