“How is your leg bearing up?”
He scowled at her. “It’s perfectly fine. The cold air just makes it a little stiff in the mornings.”
She nodded. “Ask Foley to rub some warm oil into your skin every night. It will help relieve the pain.”
“As if I’d let Foley anywhere near my leg,” he snapped. “I’m perfectly fine, Miss Harrington, and no longer trapped in my bed where you can bully me.”
She folded her hands and looked at him. “Have you ever noticed that you become far more difficult whenever you are in pain? I have, and that is the only reason why I am willing to forgive your offensive tone.”
He rammed his hat on his head and saluted her. “Good day, Miss Harrington.”
Turning to the door, he made his halting way across the marbled hall.
Her voice followed him. “If you don’t want Foley massaging your leg, ask him for a hot cloth to place over your thigh.”
“Damned interfering woman,” Robert muttered as he barely managed the steps outside without falling. The fact that a hot compress on his leg sounded vastly appealing simply made matters worse. She had no right to dictate to him.
His temper remained sour on his journey back to Broughton House and was not improved when he was immediately asked to go up and meet the countess in her morning parlor. All he wanted was a hot bath and a shot of brandy to help withstand the pulsing agony in his thigh. He was due at Carlton House later, so he couldn’t even put himself to bed.
The countess was alone in the small morning room. The velvet curtains remained shut, leaving the room in half darkness. As his hostess had also chosen to don a black gown, it was difficult to see her clearly. Robert bowed and remained standing in front of her chair.
“Lady Broughton, how may I help you?” He hesitated. “If you wish me to return to my hotel in this time of sorrow, I will leave immediately.”
“Oh no, please don’t go.” The countess brought out her handkerchief and inwardly Robert tensed. Dealing with crying females was one of his least favorite occupations. “With Broughton sick, and Oliver disappeared, you are the only man I can turn to.”
“Oliver has disappeared?”
“Well, I have no notion where he is, and his bed wasn’t slept in last night.”
“Does he even know that his grandmother died? I seem to remember him leaving the ball before anything occurred. Perhaps he is staying at an acquaintance’s house and has no idea what is going on.” He paused. “Do you wish me to inquire?”
“That’s very kind of you, but Oliver isn’t my main concern.”
“Then, how may I help you?”
The countess dabbed at her pale cheeks. “The stupid new physician that Broughton insisted should replace our old one declares that Broughton might have been poisoned!”
“Poisoned?”
“Yes, I know it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? But he is determined to speak to you about it.”
“Now?”
“The sooner the better, he said. Although what there is to remember, or forget, about what Broughton was doing last night when one was forced to watch a horrible old woman choke to death on her own venom is hardly worth noting.”
A note of hysteria crept into the countess’s voice and Robert took a step backward. “Shall I fetch your abigail, my lady? You seem rather distraught.”
“No, no, I’m perfectly fine.” She raised her head. “Would you speak to the wretched man? He doesn’t want to tell Broughton what he suspects until he is feeling more the thing.”
“I’ll certainly speak to him, my lady. Is he still on the premises?”
“Yes, he’s upstairs with Broughton.”
“Then I’ll go up to them and hopefully I’ll be able to set your mind at rest.”
The countess rose and gripped his hand with both of hers. “Thank you, Major.”
“It’s nothing, my lady. I’m just glad to be of service in this difficult time.”
He disentangled himself from her frantic grip and headed for the door and up yet another flight of stairs. At least now when he was finished with this nonsense he could escape directly to his own bedchamber, which was on the same floor.
The door to Broughton’s suite of rooms was slightly ajar. Robert knocked anyway and went inside to find a man pacing in front of the fire.
“Are you the consulting physician?” Robert asked. “You look younger than I expected.”
“I’m Dr. Redmond.” The man came to a halt and bowed. “I only recently qualified.”
“Oh dear.” Robert leaned heavily on his cane. “Now what’s all this nonsense about Lieutenant Broughton being poisoned?”
Chapter 6
An hour later, after having enjoyed the warmth of a much-needed bath, and endured Foley’s fussing, Robert was ready to leave for his meeting with the Prince Regent. He’d also taken a moment to scribble a note to Miss Harrington to ask her permission to visit her again later that day. After speaking to the physician, he was curious to see what she would make of the issue in hand. Her perspective was always interesting. He’d rely on her good sense before making any decision to proceed.
He also instructed Foley to heat some cloths to put on his thigh, which had helped immensely; not that he would be mentioning that to Miss Harrington. He could already imagine her satisfied expression if she knew that she’d been right again.
This time his entrance into Carlton House went more smoothly and he was escorted to Sir John’s office without any hesitation, or demand to know his business. Sir John welcomed him and offered him some refreshments, but Robert refused. Despite his personal distaste for the Prince Regent, meeting one’s reigning monarch, albeit the mad King George’s eldest son, was rather overwhelming. Of course he’d seen the prince before from afar when he’d reviewed the regiment, but never on a more private basis.
The inner door of Sir John’s office opened and a footman dressed in the royal livery came out and bowed to Robert.
“His Highness will see you now, Major Kurland.”
Robert gripped his cane tightly in his left hand and followed the private secretary into the prince’s inner sanctum. The windows were tightly closed, the curtains were drawn, and the sickly smell of perfume hung over the room like a dank fog.
“Major Kurland.”
Robert saluted and then bowed low. “Your Majesty.”
The Prince Regent came toward him, his remarkably podgy face wreathed in smiles. The prince was fifty-six years old and looked nothing like the portraits Robert had seen of him as a young man. Good Lord, he was even more corpulent than the cartoons made him out to be, and that was saying something.
To his surprise, the prince reached out and took Robert’s hand between his own. “Major Kurland, our nation owes you a debt of gratitude for your outstanding courage and bravery during the Battle of Waterloo.”
“I merely did my duty, sire.”
The prince fixed his earnest gaze on Robert. “You did much more than that. I’ve read all the reports. You saved half a regiment from annihilation by that French battery.”
“Thank you, sire.”
“Offering you a baronetcy is a poor reward for your sacrifice, but I do hope you will accept it as a gift not only from your nation, but from your regiment’s commanding officer?”
Robert found himself captivated by the Regent’s fervent gaze and promptly forgot why he’d ever wished to disappoint the prince and refuse the title.
“I would be honored, sire.”
The prince released Robert’s hand and placed his own hand over his heart. His rather bulbous blue eyes were full of tears. “The honor is all mine.” He looked over at Sir John. “You’ll arrange a suitable time for the ceremony?”
“I’ve already put the event in your calendar, sire.”
“Good.” The Prince Regent nodded. “I look forward to it.”
And with that, a slightly dazed Robert was led out of the room and into Sir John’s spacious office, where he took the seat offered to him a
nd tried to think of what to say. After a moment, the prince’s secretary chuckled.
“You seem a little overcome, Major.”
“I . . . didn’t expect to, to . . .”
“Receive your baronetcy so quickly?” Sir John shrugged. “When the prince sets his mind to something, he is remarkably hard to dissuade. In this case you are the lucky beneficiary of his good will. The ceremony will take place within the next month. I’ll send you the details nearer the actual date.”
Robert accepted this information with a nod of thanks and felt grateful that he hadn’t blurted out what he really meant about finding the prince so charming. He’d heard the prince could be quite captivating but hadn’t believed it until he’d stared into the man’s eyes and seen such emotion.
“Then I’ll send you a note when we are ready to go over the details of the ceremony, Major.”
Robert stood up and saluted. “Yes, Sir John. Thank you for your consideration.”
He managed to make his way out to the courtyard behind the palace and into the waiting carriage, then asked the driver to take him to the Hathaways’, where he hoped Miss Harrington would be awaiting him.
She was there in the morning room with Sophia Giffin and Andrew Stanford, who seemed quite at home with the two ladies. Robert gratefully accepted the seat Miss Harrington offered him by the fire and a cup of tea. Despite it being spring, the weather was still treacherous and far too cold for his liking.
After he’d satisfied his thirst, he thanked Miss Harrington, who relieved him of his teacup and sat forward expectantly.
“You saw the Prince Regent today, didn’t you?”
“How do you know?”
“Our butler happened to see Mr. Foley out in the park this morning, and he passed on the news!” Miss Harrington smiled. “I do hope you are going to tell us what happened!”
Robert attempted to straighten his left leg as he considered his reply.
“I did see him and he was most . . . gracious.”
“You sound surprised.” Miss Harrington maneuvered a footstool under the heel of his left boot and sat back.
“As you know, I hardly hold the man in high esteem.”
“You didn’t refuse the honor, then?”
“I’d thought about it, but somehow, when the prince thanked me on behalf of the nation, I found it impossible to disagree with him.”
“I have heard that the prince is very personable,” Miss Harrington said diplomatically.
“He is.”
“Are you returning to Kurland St. Mary now?”
“No, I have to be formally invested with the baronetcy, which will happen in the next month or so.”
“And then you’ll leave London.”
“Yes, why?” He glanced at her properly for the first time. “Do you wish to be escorted home?”
“Oh no, I’m enjoying myself far too much to do that.” She looked over at Sophia and Stanford, who were talking quietly to each other. “I don’t think Sophia wishes to leave yet either. She still hasn’t found a husband.”
“Neither have you.”
“Exactly.” She smoothed down her skirts. “I do appreciate you coming to share your experience with the Prince Regent with us, Major. It is quite thrilling.”
Shaking off his unexpected reaction to the prince, Robert remembered his main purpose in coming to see Miss Harrington.
“Actually, I didn’t come to tell you about my meeting with the prince. I wanted your opinion on another matter.”
“You wanted my opinion?”
“Yes, Miss Harrington. You might be a little forthright at times, but there is no one I know with better sense.”
“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’m not trying to be nice. I’m merely seeking your thoughts on a matter regarding the Broughtons.”
He glanced over at Sophia, but she appeared to be oblivious to the conversation going on between him and Miss Harrington. “The countess asked me to meet with the Broughton physician.”
“And what did he have to say for himself?”
“He suggested that Broughton was poisoned last night.”
“What?”
“Exactly. I was all set to tell the man he was an underqualified idiot when he confounded me by proving to be nothing of the kind. In fact, he trained in Europe and Scotland under some of the best surgeons and healers in the profession.”
“Some profession, Major.”
“I know it’s still considered to be the realm of butchers and blood letters, but this man, Dr. Redmond, has made a very specific study of heart disease and poisons. That’s why he believed Broughton was poisoned and didn’t merely eat spoiled meat or any of the other more obvious solutions I suggested to him.”
“Oh dear.” Miss Harrington tapped two fingers against her cheek. “And what does the Broughton family have to say about that?”
“The countess is adamant that nothing needs to happen at all.”
“And what about Lieutenant Broughton?”
“I have a suspicion that if his doctor insists on telling him that he was poisoned, he will not be willing to let the matter rest.”
“But he will recover?”
“Apparently.” Robert hesitated. “The physician also asked if he might view the dowager’s body.”
“View it or eviscerate it?” Miss Harrington shuddered.
“He wants to be able to tell Broughton exactly what she died of—for scientific reasons, I believe he said.” Robert frowned. “He asked me if I noticed anything odd about the way the dowager died. All I could tell him was that she clutched at her throat rather than at her chest as she fell, which seemed rather irrelevant.”
“And her pupils were so wide that her eyes looked black with rage.”
“I’d forgotten that, but you are correct. The thing is, should I support the physician’s desire to disturb the dead and advance science, or should I simply side with the countess and let the old harridan be buried and forgotten about altogether?”
Miss Harrington fixed him with her clear hazel gaze. “That’s not your decision to make, Major, is it? I can understand that Lady Broughton wishes to let the matter rest, but you and I both know that rumors are already flying about the circumstances of the dowager’s death. It would be wrong for an innocent bystander to be blamed for this when the truth might be something far more shocking.”
“I thought you might say that, Miss Harrington.”
She folded her capable hands on her lap. “Which is why you sought my opinion. You don’t want the truth to be buried either, especially if it concerns Miss Chingford.”
He blinked at her. “Miss Chingford has nothing to do with it. I merely don’t appreciate seeing a fellow officer being poisoned.”
“But at least he’s alive.”
“That is true.”
“One has to ask why anyone would want to poison Lieutenant Broughton?”
“Perhaps someone merely thought to scare him.”
“Broughton seemed generally well liked, but almost everyone hated the dowager.” Miss Harrington considered him. “Perhaps the wrong person became ill. Do you suspect who the culprit is?”
“If it was a prank that went wrong, I can think of one person,” Robert said.
“Who?”
“Oliver Broughton. He hasn’t been seen since the ball at Almack’s either.”
Miss Harrington studied his no doubt grim expression.
“Why do you think it has something to do with Oliver?”
“Because he hated his grandmother, and Broughton revealed to me somewhat reluctantly that his brother is considered. . . unstable.”
“I suspect he has a hot temper like many young men of his age, but I can’t say I saw any malice in him.”
“I did.” Robert grimaced. “Also, at the ball, just before he departed he made a rather unpleasant comment about his grandmother.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“That he w
ished the drink you were handing her would choke her.”
“My goodness. No wonder you think he might be involved. Perhaps he meant both of his relatives to become ill, and the dowager ended up dead.” Miss Harrington made an odd sound and went still.
“What’s wrong?” Robert asked.
“I handed her that glass of orgeat.”
“So you did.”
“What if everyone thinks I poisoned her?”
Chapter 7
Lucy stared at Major Kurland, who stared back at her in return.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Harrington. Why would anyone think you wanted to murder Broughton, or his grandmother?”
His brusque tone was remarkably heartening and Lucy let out her breath.
“The dowager was threatening to have Anna’s Almack’s voucher taken away. Perhaps I thought to get back at her for that?”
If possible, the major looked even more disgusted. “And kill her grandson, the very man who was courting your sister? You are many things, Miss Harrington, but a fool is not one of them.”
“Thank you.”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
“And I took it as one.” She took a deep breath. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?”
“Especially when we don’t even know if this physician is correct about whether Broughton was ‘poisoned’ or how the dowager countess might have died. We could be dealing with two completely separate incidents.”
“Which just happened to the same family on the same evening.” Lucy snorted. “I don’t think you believe that any more than I do.”
His dark blue gaze collided with hers. “I’ll feel better after I’ve spoken to Broughton, and find out what has happened to Oliver.”
“Do you need my help?”
“Not at this moment.” He rose to his feet. “I’m far more capable than I was last time we attempted to solve a riddle.”
She stiffened. “I suppose you expect me to sit and ply my needle until you deign to come around to discuss something else with me?”
“Actually, if I can arrange it, I’d prefer that you persuade your sister and Mrs. Hathaway to visit the countess. I’d appreciate your insight into the family.”
Her smile held a hint of surprise. “I’m quite sure I can do that.”
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