Daring the Duke (The Seven Curses of London Book 7)

by Lana Williams

  “Quite concerning,” Elijah said as disappointment filled him.

  “You close down one operation, and two more take its place.” The detective shook his head. “Frustrating business. And they grow smarter and bolder by the day.”

  “Do you mind if we have a quick look inside?” Rutland asked.

  “If you like. My men are nearly done.”

  Elijah followed Rutland across the street and entered the warehouse. Nothing set it apart from any of the rest of the buildings on the street. A few work tables. A desk and chair in a separate room that could’ve served as an office.

  While Rutland spoke with one of the policemen, Elijah walked into the office, wondering who’d sat there earlier in the day. Did he realize the danger he put people in? Did he even care? Though Elijah knew the desk had already been searched, he opened a drawer to find it empty. A piece of paper was caught under the foot of the desk. He bent to retrieve it, expecting to find a bit of trash.

  The handwriting was rough as though scrawled in a hurry. Ryker’s Apothecary. It might be nothing, but Elijah held onto it to do a little investigating of his own. Apparently involving the police held risk he hadn’t anticipated.

  As he and Rutland crossed the street again, Elijah showed the paper to the viscount.

  “Could be a clue,” Rutland said. “I wouldn’t have thought they would purchase additives from an apothecary, but it makes sense.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Shall I have it investigated?” Rutland asked.

  “Why don’t I make some initial inquiries first,” Elijah suggested after a moment of hesitation. “I don’t want to waste your time if this is nothing more than a place where the man purchased remedies for his gout.”

  “Take care,” Rutland warned as he handed back the paper. “It could also be the man’s supplier. Assume the worst so you walk in prepared.”

  Elijah signaled for his carriage. “I will indeed.”

  “Are you certain you don’t want the police involved?”

  “If our man has the police on his side, they might alert him to our movements. I’d prefer to avoid that after this evening.”

  The seriousness in his expression held Elijah’s gaze. “Don’t underestimate what criminals are capable of.”

  “I won’t. I’ll advise you if I discover anything of interest. Now I must return to a gathering before I’m further missed.”

  “I’m pleased to say I’m heading home. Too many late nights in this line of work.”

  Though Elijah was tempted to ask for details, he held back, sensing Rutland wouldn’t provide them. “Can I offer you a ride?”

  “I have one just up ahead. Good evening.” Rutland strode toward a hansom cab a short distance away.

  Elijah advised his coachman to return to the marquess’s home then settled into the carriage.

  Though disappointed at the outcome of the raid, he refused to give up. Alcohol caused enough problems on its own, let alone when something poisonous was added. He wanted to see the operation stopped. Perhaps it would send a message to others running a similar business.

  He stepped into the foyer of the marquess’s mansion when the butler hurried toward him.

  “Your grace.” He quickly bowed. “I’m sorry to advise you the duchess was feeling poorly. The marquess offered his carriage to return her home fifteen minutes ago.”

  Elijah’s heart thudded dully. “I’ll go to her now. Please give my regards to the marquess.”

  “Of course.”

  He hurried down the stairs and into this carriage. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and wouldn’t let go. Though traffic had lessened, the time it took to return home was slow and painful. His worry mounted with each minute that passed.

  “She’s resting in her room,” Dobbins advised as he opened the door. “Shall I send for the doctor?”

  “Allow me to see her first.” Elijah took the stairs two at a time and knocked on her bedroom door before entering.

  His mother was in her bed, her face pale, eyes closed. Her long-time maid rose from a nearby chair to curtsy.

  “How is she?” Elijah asked as he sat on the side of the bed.

  “She collapsed while preparing for bed, your grace. Seemed as weak as a kitten.”

  “Did she say what was amiss?” He ran a gentle hand over her forehead, but she felt cool to the touch.

  “She said her stomach was causing her terrible pain, and she feared she might vomit. She acted confused as well.”

  “She was fine when I left her at the party. I was gone just over an hour. What could’ve occurred in that short of a time?” He took her hand, not caring for the coolness of it.

  Though she seemed to be resting comfortably, something felt terribly amiss.

  “Have Dobbins send a footman for the doctor.”

  “Of course, your grace.” She rushed out of the room.

  “Elijah?” his mother muttered.

  “Yes, Mother. I’m here.”

  “Always remember that I love you.”

  His heart stopped at her words.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “As a means of convincing the working man of the wrong he commits in drinking a pint of fourpenny, the upholder of total-abstinence principles delights to bring forth his ‘brand from the burning’—the reclaimed drunkard...”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Time trickled by as Elijah watched his mother toss and turn, often mumbling. She dispensed of the contents of her stomach several times until there was nothing left. He didn’t think the doctor would ever come, though little more than thirty minutes passed before he arrived.

  Elijah paced at the end of the room, fists clenched at his sides as the bespectacled, grey-haired physician examined her. Dr. Billing had seen to their family’s illnesses for as long as Elijah could remember. He trusted the doctor, but the longer the examination took, the more doubt crept in. How could the man not immediately recognize the problem?

  At last Dr. Billing stepped away from his mother’s side and moved to where Elijah stood. “The sudden onset of these particular symptoms suggest poisoning. Is that possible? Has she had exposure to anything unusual? Are any of the servants ill?”

  Elijah’s shock held him speechless. His mind refused to function enough to answer the doctor’s gentle questions. He finally found the courage to ask what was utmost in his mind, despite his fear of the answer. “No, not that I know of. Will she recover?”

  “There’s a good chance she will, especially since she seems to have purged the contents of her stomach. I’ve left some charcoal biscuits with the maid to give her if needed. We’ll watch her closely over the next twenty-four hours.”

  His mother moaned once again, and the doctor returned to her side.

  Elijah watched helplessly, trying to gather his reeling thoughts. Poison? Surely no one would deliberately hurt his mother.

  Then the obvious answer came to him—alcohol. He needed to find out if anyone else at the marquess’s party had become ill and if anyone had seen what his mother had to drink. If he hadn’t known liquor could be modified, and that certain types of poison were sometimes used, the possibility wouldn’t have crossed his mind.

  Dr. Billing gave the maid instructions on what to watch for and returned to Elijah.

  “Have you heard of certain additives, some of them poisonous, being added to liquor?” Elijah asked the doctor.

  “I know questionable ingredients are sometimes added to alcohol to decrease the cost and keep it from going sour.”

  “The duchess was at a party earlier.” Elijah told him of her reaction to champagne they suspected of being tampered with.

  “She might be especially sensitive to whatever was added to the alcohol,” Dr. Billing suggested. “I would be curious to hear if anyone else had a reaction since hers was so strong.”

  Elijah ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t bring himself to mention there was a chance his mother had imbibed more than
the average person. “I’ll send a servant to find out.”

  “Why don’t you wait until the morning? The hour is late and the treatment for her condition won’t change, even if knowing would give you some peace of mind.”

  But Dr. Billing was wrong. Nothing would provide peace of mind until his mother completely recovered.

  “Send for me if her condition worsens,” the doctor requested. “I’ll return to check on her in the morning. And I’d be interested in hearing what you find out about the liquor.”

  Through the long hours of the night, Elijah remained by her side. Her moans of pain left him in agony as well, for little could be done to aid her. At times, she curled into a ball, hands pressed against her stomach.

  Her pain seemed to ease as dawn teased the sky. But he continued his vigil, unwilling to rest until he knew she was truly on the road to recovery. He couldn’t imagine losing her, let alone so soon after his father’s passing. And he’d do anything in his power to make certain something like this didn’t happen again.

  ~*~

  Lillian rode toward Hyde Park with the usual footman behind her early the next morning, filled with excitement. She had Elijah to thank for that. The idea of having a few minutes alone with him sent her heart racing. Perhaps he might kiss her again.

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment at the thought.

  Though she’d come to London with the sole purpose of catching the duke’s eye and making him care for her, she’d never thought it would come to this—the possibility of them having true feelings for each other. Dare she say—the possibility of a life together?

  She berated herself, well aware she was getting ahead of the situation. Her conversation the previous day with Julia had caused her to analyze her feelings more closely. Carrying hope was one thing, but making future plans when she had no basis for them was quite another. That sort of longing wouldn’t be beneficial.

  Focusing on the present was all she need concern herself with. She would enjoy the ride, the somewhat-fresh morning air, and the freedom of galloping through the park. The duke’s presence would be a bonus.

  She did just that, galloping along the nearly empty path but not going too far from where they had agreed to meet.

  But as the minutes slowly passed and he failed to appear, her heart sank a little lower. Had something happened? Some terrible accident on the way to the park?

  The thought nearly had her riding in the direction of his home to find out.

  But no. That seemed unlikely.

  If something had arisen, surely he would’ve sent a message to her stating so.

  She halted her mare near the water, not far from the tree where they’d shared their first kiss. The memory had her heart squeezing again. Had that meant nothing to him? Was this how Helena had felt when he’d failed to appear when she’d expected him?

  Aware of the footman nearby, she dismounted by herself and led her horse toward the water. She ran her hand along the mare’s soft neck, hoping to find the peace that horses so often brought her.

  The feeling escaped her. As the minutes ticked by, the doubts that were never far away rose to smother her.

  What had she been thinking to hope that Elijah might feel the same as she? To expect she could catch the attention of a duke?

  Already a voice in her head, sounding much like her mother, suggested she should’ve acted differently when he was near.

  Should’ve listened better.

  Should’ve acted more like a lady.

  Certainly shouldn’t have spoken her mind.

  She ran a gloved hand against the front of her riding habit. Her clothing was no doubt all wrong. She should’ve paid more attention to fashion. A duke would expect such.

  She closed her eyes as the thoughts circled, leaving her hollow inside.

  Why had she believed for even a moment that anything about her could’ve genuinely appealed to a man like Elijah? No doubt he was toying with her affections, just as he had with Helena. She was just too naïve to realize it.

  With a sigh, she checked her watch pin one more time. A full hour had passed since the time they’d agreed to meet.

  He wasn’t coming.

  After the footman assisted her to mount the mare again, she rode slowly back to Oliver and Julia’s, wondering if the time had come to return home. She no longer had any desire to seek revenge even if Elijah acted the cad.

  ~*~

  Elijah sat in the chair before the Marquess of Barbon’s desk that afternoon as the older man blinked, taking in what Elijah had just told him.

  “Are you suggesting I poisoned the duchess?”

  “Nothing of the sort. I’m only making inquiries, one of which is from where you purchased the alcohol you served at the party last evening.”

  The marquess appeared decidedly uncomfortable. “What leads you to believe that anything served in our home could’ve made the duchess ill?”

  Elijah did his best to hold onto his patience. His mother had woken mid-morning, pale and weak. Dr. Billing had returned to examine her once again and thought the worst had passed but advised him to keep watch over her for any sign of a relapse.

  Other than saying that yes, she’d had several drinks at the party, she’d said little else, only wanting to sleep. Elijah had sat with her, unable to rest until Dobbins had insisted he at least get some fresh air since his mother was resting more comfortably.

  Which was why he’d come to the marquess to ask for the details of what he’d served and where he’d purchased it. What he’d expected to be a straightforward conversation was turning out to be nothing of the sort. The lord was overly defensive on the topic.

  “I don’t know.” He waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the question. “My servants handle such details. Why would I concern myself with those things?”

  When the marquess didn’t look him in the eye, Elijah couldn’t help but think something was amiss.

  “Has anyone else mentioned that they were feeling poorly? Did you experience any unusual symptoms last night?”

  “Other than a worse than normal headache, no. But I blame that on the cost of hosting these parties.”

  Elijah had nearly forgotten his mother’s remark about the decrease in the marquess’s finances. That only made Elijah more certain he’d purchased the liquor and food as inexpensively as possible.

  “I would appreciate you selling me a bottle of what was served at the party,” Elijah said. “I’d also like the name of the supplier from whom it was purchased.”

  “I say, all this is most unusual, Burbridge. Do you want a sample of the food as well? Are you certain you know what you’re about?”

  “Quite. Now when can I expect those two items?” He surprised himself with the demand. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought to do such a thing. Now he was willing to wield his title and position to gain what he wanted.

  “I’ll see what can be done.”

  “I’d prefer to have them this afternoon.” Elijah stood. “I’d also recommend you not drink more of anything purchased until the test results come back.”

  “Tests?” The marquess stood as well, his expression one of alarm. “By God, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Elijah leaned over the desk to glare at the marquess, unable to contain his rage. “I’m quite serious. You see, my mother nearly died last night.” He’d failed her after his father passed away, but he didn’t intend to do so again.

  The man drew back, mouth agape. “I didn’t poison her.”

  “I didn’t say you did.” But someone had, and he couldn’t bear the idea that it might happen a second time. “The sooner we discover the true source of the problem the better.” Elijah reined in his temper, aware the combination of worry and lack of sleep wasn’t helping. “Think of how grateful everyone will be if you help catch a criminal.”

  The man only scowled. “Does it come with a reward? I could certainly use that.”

  Elijah had heard enough. He needed to leave before he di
d something he’d regret. Why couldn’t the man cooperate out of the goodness of his heart? “I look forward to receiving a package from you shortly.”

  “Certainly.” The lack of conviction in his words had Elijah pausing.

  “If not, I’ll return to pick it up myself.”

  “No need. I’ll have it sent around.”

  “My thanks.”

  “Give our regards to the duchess.”

  Elijah managed to give a polite nod. Though the marquess hadn’t poisoned his mother on purpose, his lack of concern and urgency about solving the problem was disturbing.

  Next, he called on Rutland, pleased to find the viscount at home.

  “That’s terrible news. Will she recover?” Rutland asked.

  “The doctor believes so. She’s still weak but resting comfortably.”

  “How ironic that she was being served the very thing for which we are searching.”

  “I thought the same.

  “Surely she isn’t the only one who fell ill.”

  Elijah shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He feared his mother had drunk more than the other guests and hesitated whether to share that information. But he trusted Rutland and sharing this might help the viscount better understand Elijah’s concerns. “I believe she may have imbibed more than normal. The death of my father has been difficult for her.”

  Awareness and sympathy came over Rutland’s expression. “Understandable. That would explain why neither the marquess or marchioness fell ill. Still, they’re lucky no one died from their spirits. Guests often drink significant amounts at these parties.”

  “Do you know of a place where the alcohol could be tested to determine what was added?”

  “I’ll find out and send the information around as quickly as possible.” Rutland frowned. “The police could prove helpful in this.”

  “After last evening, I believe I’d prefer to do some of the investigating on my own. I’d hate for them to suddenly lose the evidence.”

  “I wish I could argue, but that might be for the best. Obviously, we have several individuals in law enforcement we trust, but not all.”