The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(41)

‘They say weeks rather than days,’ he continued, apparently oblivious to her brooding thoughts. ‘I feel so helpless. Those damnable drugs are so strong he doesn’t know who is there with him. I don’t want to let him go, to lose him, but you wouldn’t let a horse or a dog suffer like that.’

‘No,’ Guin said, watching his face.

‘Don’t look at me with that question in your eyes, Guin. As if I could… as if I ever would. It is bad enough losing Uncle Augustus. That damn Coroner sent a Runner round, if you can believe it. Wanted details of my meeting with Uncle Augustus, what I did while I was waiting, where I went in the house, who saw me.’

‘But that is dreadful.’ And it was: the moment she thought about the Coroner’s suspicions her own uneasiness seemed ludicrous. She liked Theo, for goodness sake.

‘For two pennies I’d go with you to Yorkshire, for all the use I am here.’

‘It would look as though you are running away.’

‘Yes, I suppose so. And I can’t leave Father.’ He straightened his back, jaw firm. ‘I’ll be the head of the family soon, I had better start acting like it. Uncle Augustus was right, I’ve been rotting my brain with drink and – well, drink, anyway. Will you recognise me when I’m reformed, Guin?’

‘I doubt it,’ she teased, wondering how best she could help him. His mother had died soon after his birth, he had no sisters. Perhaps I should find him a wife, she thought. Goodness, how middle-aged of me to be setting to matchmaking.



‘And what can I do about that Bow Street Runner who has been harassing Theo?’ she asked rhetorically two days later as the carriage pulled out of Hatfield. They had stopped there for the second time to change horses, twenty miles outside London. ‘Nothing! None of the servants saw Theo while he was waiting to speak to Augustus and he knows the house inside out, unfortunately. And he knows about the sweetmeats and when they are delivered because he has filched his favourites out of the box often enough.’ She had been worrying out loud about Theo for several miles and thought she had best change the subject or Jared would think she was obsessed with her nephew by marriage.

He had been listening attentively enough though, even making the occasional note in that sinister little black book of his. ‘You say his father is very heavily drugged?’

‘Yes, I asked Doctor Felbrigg about it, because I was so concerned that the poor man is in pain, but he says it will be something very strong which would not be prescribed for anyone who was not already dying, so I can only trust it is effective.’

‘Hmm.’ Jared made another note and put the book away.

‘What do you mean, hmm?’

‘You don’t happen to know exactly what the drug is, by any chance? The post-mortem did not identify the poison in those sweetmeats, but I wonder if they were looking for a pharmacist’s concoction.’

‘No, I do not know and I do not believe for a moment that Theo would do such a thing,’ Guin said hotly. She had, of course, her conscience reminded her. She had been suspicious, had wondered, and now she was ashamed. ‘If they are investigating him, will they not think to test again?’

‘If there is enough to do so. There was only one marchpane ball left and, apologies for my frankness, there is only so long one can keep samples of other matter. Besides, they do not have tests that will definitely identify every drug or poison.’

Three hours later they were still traveling steadily north. It should have been a relief to get away from London, to be out of the house and to have the stimulation of travel and changing scenery, and in a way it was. But being shut up in a closed carriage with Jared when Faith was there to listen to every word, was a strain Guin had not anticipated. Not that she knew what it was she would have talked about if she had been unconstrained. Any reference to the awareness that sparked between them was impossible, they had agreed about that days ago. She hoped that Jared would believe it had been an aberration on her part brought about by shock and fright, even though she knew it was not. No aberration, not instinctive desire for human contact, simply desire for this man.

Not that there was anything simple about desire. Why should the precise outer curve of an ear, the way one tendril of hair lay against his neck as it escaped from its queue, the set of his shoulders as he relaxed into the corner, make her breath come short, her pulse stammer? Jared had not touched her, had hardly spoken to her, all morning.

Even during their noonday meal at Baldock she might as well have been a stranger chance-met on the road with whom he was forced to share a table, except that Jared never quite relaxed, never stopped watching, thinking, guarding her.

‘How far do you intend travelling today?’ Guin asked. She had abandoned the planning and the arrangements entirely to Jared, too weary after the funeral to even think about the detail of the journey.

‘To Stilton and the Bell Inn,’ he said, shifting to face her more fully. ‘Another two, two and a half hours.’

I want to stop now, she thought, sounding to herself like a peevish, travel-sick child. I am so tired.



To Jared’s relief Guinevere picked up the book from the seat beside her and began to read. There was something about the atmosphere in the carriage that was making them both tense.

Guinevere shifted on her seat, making herself comfortable in the corner as she became immersed in her novel. Jared moved to the opposite side and leaned out of the window to check the road behind them. No-one was following them, or if they were, they were keeping a safe distance back. But at the funeral Guin had made no secret of where she was going and anyone could have set out and be ahead of them by now.