A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(101)

Gage’s eyebrows arched. “I suppose that will have to be good enough.”

I pressed a kiss to his lips, running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Kiera.” His voice was naked with emotion, but rather than speak, he used his mouth in other ways to show me how much he cared.

When eventually we pulled apart and found our way to our feet, he took my hand in his, our fingers twining, and guided me back toward the manor.

I glanced behind me as we left the clearing. “Where do you think she went?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, needing no clarification as to who I was talking about. It had to be the woman in the blue cloak. “But I suspect she’s long gone.”

He was undoubtedly right. So I shifted my thoughts back to the troubles at Barbreck. “Where’s Anderley?”

“Resting. Or at least, he should be.” He frowned. “There’s no telling whether he listened to me.”

“What was he able to tell you about what happened last night?”

“Between his berating himself that he’d allowed her to convince him to split up so they could question more of the staff?”

My heart went out to Anderley. I remembered how he’d looked when he banged on our door in the middle of the night. He felt guilty for not protecting her. Perhaps even guiltier than I did. And I strongly suspected Bree would not appreciate either of us blaming ourselves. In fact, I could just hear her scolding us for such ridiculousness, that she could take care of herself, thank you very much. Except she hadn’t.

“He said the cook confirmed she’d made about a dozen jars of raspberry compote some weeks past, but that no one else had fallen ill from eating it,” Gage said.

“Then the poison was added later.” I frowned. “What of Bree? Who did she talk to? What did she uncover?”

“He said he didn’t know. That Bree was unusually quiet on the ride back to Barbreck. He’d thought she was merely puzzling over something, until she became ill near the spot where the trail skirts closest to Loch Craignish.”

“Then I suppose he doesn’t know if she ate anything that was offered to her?”

Gage shook his head, lifting aside a low-hanging branch for us to pass under.

“Well, hopefully Bree can tell us herself. Though . . .” I pressed my lips together, ruminating on the matter. “Bree is wiser than that. I find it difficult to believe she would have accepted anything from Poltalloch.”

“But I imagine they took food from Barbreck in their saddlebags.”

I looked up at him, following the bent of his thoughts. “Yes.”

We quickened our steps, veering toward the stables so Gage could ask where the saddlebags had been taken.

“Anderley was just here askin’ for ’em,” the stable hand told us, his eyes sharp with interest.

Gage thanked him and we hurried off toward the servants’ entrance, finding Anderley just inside the door, already searching through both bags. “You’ve had the same thought we have,” Gage told his valet.

“That someone poisoned her food,” he practically growled. “Yes.”

Though he was more neatly groomed than he had been the previous night, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his olive skin was wan with fatigue. But I was one to talk. I must have looked much the same. Or worse, since I’d been sobbing not thirty minutes earlier. My eyes still felt raw and gritty.

I moved closer to examine the items he’d set on the table near the door. Even in the dim passage, I was swiftly able to pick out the most likely culprit. “This.” I seized the jar of deep red chutney. Opening the lid, I carefully smelled. “Rhubarb with cherries.” I clamped the lid back on. “They must have hoped the bitterness of the poison would be masked by the tart fruit.” I thought back to what the housekeeper at Poltalloch had told us about the poisonous qualities of rhubarb leaves. “Or that we’d attribute her illness to an improper preparation of the rhubarb.” I glanced at the motley collection of food. “But I would throw out the rest of it just to be safe.”

“Then someone must have snuck into the stables to tamper with it while you and Bree were otherwise occupied,” Gage surmised, taking the chutney from me to examine it. “Or added the poison before you left Barbreck.”

Anderley’s jaw hardened as he turned his face away, his fists flexing at his sides as if he wanted to hit something. He managed to contain himself, turning back to us. “How is Bree?”

“She was resting comfortably when I left her,” I assured him. “And I’m going up to check on her again now.”

“May I see her?”

My breath caught at the raw emotion I heard in his voice. I could relate to the desperate need stamped across his features to ensure that Bree was safe and well. “Yes, of course.”

I led both men up the stairs and rapped softly on the chamber door before opening it a crack to peer inside. When I was certain everyone was decent, I opened it wider to reveal Bree still lying beneath the rumpled white sheets.

Mrs. Mackay rose to her feet. “She woke aboot an hour ago.”

“She did?” My heart surged with hope in my chest.

“She did,” she confirmed with a gentle smile. “Asked after all o’ you, and I was able to convince her to drink more than those dribbles o’ water you’ve been givin’ her. We talked for a wee bit, and then the puir lass fell back asleep. She’s puggled.”