The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(27)


‘In many ways he was in good health for a man five years younger,’ Felbrigg stated. ‘However, his heart gave some trouble if he exerted himself very strenuously and I was concerned to keep his weight down so as not to increase the strain. But he was quite capable of long walks or active rides and he withstood shocks and alarms well.’

‘You had forbidden him sweet things?’ The Coroner looked at the open box the doctor had given him. He picked up one of the silver wrappers, sniffed it and dropped it back in the box. ‘Marchpane. Almonds.’

‘I advised him about his weight and Lady Northam was, she assured me, being strict about desserts. She told me she hid her boxes of sweetmeats because he would steal them like a boy if he had the chance.’

‘And yet she did not hide this one.’

‘So it seems. An oversight when her maid, who should have removed it, was in a bustle before a ball, I understand.’

‘Hmm. And these attacks on her ladyship – they were all aimed at her and not at Lord Northam?’

‘It would appear so,’ Jared said. ‘The first was – ’

‘I will hear the detail direct from Lady Northam, I think, Mr Hunt. Strange that they should be ineffectual and yet this one should prove so deadly. You will perform a post-mortem examination, Doctor? And an analysis.’ He sniffed at the box. ‘Almonds. It does make one wonder…’ he added, brow furrowed.

He suspects cyanide, Jared thought. But, from what he knew about poisons, the effects on Lord Northam did not seem to him to match and it sounded as though the Coroner agreed with him.

‘Doctor Strang who usually works with me will assist you,’ Runcorn added.

And that did not please Felbrigg one jot, Jared could tell from his tight-lipped expression as he nodded. He could hardly disagree or he would find himself entirely excluded. A post-mortem was expected, but the Coroner’s mood seemed to have hardened since Sophie’s arrival. Was that simply an official on his dignity because he resented ducal privilege or did he think they were conspiring to hide something?

‘Lady Northam is very considerably younger than her husband,’ the Coroner observed as he stared down at the body.

‘Yes,’ Felbrigg agreed.

‘He already has a family, I believe?’

You know that perfectly well because you checked before you came. Jared kept quiet, leaving the family doctor to do the talking. He knew Felbrigg of old because he had been Sophie’s doctor before she married and he had become Cal’s too, after setting a dislocated shoulder. He was level-headed and would not allow the Coroner to goad him into any heated responses.

‘Certainly. Both the daughters of the first marriage are on excellent terms with Lady Northam.’

‘One hopes that the prospect of a comfortable widowhood will make her grief easier to bear.’ The Coroner was examining the room as he talked, peering at window latches, running one finger down the frames, opening and closing doors.

‘You must ask her lawyers about that,’ Felbrigg said, with rather more of a snap. ‘I have no idea of the settlements.’

‘I will most certainly do so.’

The words, spoken calmly, were as good as a threat, Jared realised. It was natural that the Coroner would suspect Guinevere of poisoning her elderly husband to enjoy the freedoms of a wealthy widowhood. Which would make the inept attempts on her life seem all the more sinister in a way none of them had considered before. If Guinevere had orchestrated the attacks herself, confident of being unharmed…

Jared eased out of the room, walked soft-footed along the corridor then ran down the stairs and into the drawing room. The women – Sophie and Guinevere on the sofa, Faith on a seat to one side – looked up as he came in, their expressions compounded of grief, fear and expectation, uncannily similar.

‘Guinevere, there is no comfortable way of saying this. You must be prepared. I believe Runcorn suspects – ’

‘That I killed Augustus.’ Guinevere was white to the lips and her hands were clasped tightly in her lap as though she could not otherwise control them, but her voice was steady. ‘He thinks that the attacks on me were a blind, that I arranged them so that when the poisoning happened it would look as though Augustus had eaten the sweets meant for me. That is it, is it not?’

‘Yes.’ And, heaven help him, he wondered if it were true himself. Was this an innocent, grieving widow or an exceptionally clever young woman who had ensnared a rich old husband, woven a mesh of conspiracy around herself, involved himself – and now, thanks to him, the Duke and Duchess of Calderbrook – in her wicked schemes?

He did not want it to be true, his emotions told him that it was not, but his head cautioned distance. I have known her for what? – barely three days. I know nothing of her except that she is lovely and intelligent and, fool that I am, I want her. In a fight he knew better than to let his emotions overcome his judgement, now a pair of mysterious blue-green eyes were turning his cold rationality into heated partisanship.

‘Yes,’ Jared repeated. ‘That is exactly what he thinks, although he has said nothing directly.’

‘Then he must be disabused of this notion,’ Sophie said, on her feet, her expression militant. ‘I will – ’

‘Do nothing. I should not have asked you to come, Sophie. It was an error of judgment and now the Coroner suspects that we are trying to use your influence, and Cal’s, to cover something up.’

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