From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(48)

Aleksei paced the Square Room, his mind seething as he awaited Allison’s return from the schoolroom, where she was temporarily reuniting the children with their very grateful and relieved governess. The Orlova woman was not a murderer. Her convoluted tale was so unbelievable it could only be true. But the implications...

His hands formed into tight fists. The implications were quite literally unthinkable.

One of the double doors opened just enough for Allison to slip through. She crossed the room to join him and he clasped her hands gratefully.

‘The children were delighted to see Anna,’ Allison said. ‘Catiche was eager to thank you in person, but I told her later, tomorrow. I thought—how are you, Aleksei?’

From the way she looked at him, a mixture of sympathy and trepidation, it was obvious she had drawn the same conclusions as he. ‘Never mind how I feel,’ he said roughly, pulling himself free from the comfort of her touch. ‘What do you make of the governess’s tall tale?’

Allison was trying to decide whether or not to pull her punches. He could read her as easily as a book, and knew, from the downward quirk of her mouth, the slight slump of her shoulders, exactly when she had reached her decision. ‘I don’t think it was a tale, but the absolute truth.’

She sat down on one of the chaises longue, patting the space beside her encouragingly. Aleksei surrendered to the temptation. It was not that he needed comforting, simply that he wanted to be by her side, and why not, dammit! ‘For the record,’ he said, ‘I believe she spoke the truth too. But you haven’t answered my question.’

‘No.’ Allison angled herself on the sofa to face him and, pulling a pin from her hair, set about teasing it into a circle. ‘Though there are still some questions which remain unanswered, I think we can conclude from what Madame Orlova told us, that—that this was a domestic matter, a crime of passion.’

‘By which you mean that either my brother or his wife is a murderer,’ Aleksei said brutally.

Allison dropped her hairpin. There were tears glittering in her eyes when she lifted her head. ‘I’m so sorry, I wish it were otherwise.’

There he had it, the confirmation he needed and so desperately didn’t want. The confirmation that his instincts had been right all along. How he wished, how he desperately wished he’d left well alone. But it was too late now. Best to lance the boil quickly and efficiently. ‘Do you think it was Michael?’

Allison’s hand hovered over his, but she decided—quite rightly—not to touch him. ‘Before we leap to any conclusions,’ she said gently, ‘I think we need to review the few facts we can be certain of.’

Aleksei crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Go on, then.’

She did not flinch from his gaze. She would not, he thought with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, tell him what he wanted to hear but what he needed to know. He could trust her to tell him what she really thought.

‘For a start,’ she began, ‘I think, as Anna Orlova clearly does, that Elizaveta must have been having an affaire.’

Exactly as he had concluded, but hearing the words aloud made it so much worse. ‘I find it utterly unbelievable that Elizaveta would cuckold Michael!’ Aleksei exclaimed. ‘The only faithful married couple in St Petersburg, someone told me the other day.’

‘But it is the only logical conclusion, Aleksei. I’m sorry to say.’

‘You’re right. I know you’re right. But if this got out, if it were known that Elizaveta—by the stars, Elizaveta!’ Aleksei shook his head. ‘The sacred Derevenko name would trailed through the mud, the family’s peerless reputation besmirched. It doesn’t bear contemplating.’ Which was exactly what Michael would have thought. And indeed Elizaveta. Which would lead one to conclude...

‘What else?’ he asked. ‘Before I torture myself with speculation, what are these other facts that you think we can be certain of?’

‘We know we are dealing with two suspicious deaths and not one. Possibly one murder and one suicide?’

‘Then it cannot have been Michael,’ Aleksei said with utter certainty. ‘Knowing the kind of man he was, I cannot believe he would deliberately deprive his children of both their parents.’ Was it wrong of him to hope that she was right, to condemn his sister-in-law to clear his brother? But with a sick feeling, he perceived the flaw in this logic. ‘Though the same must be said of Elizaveta. She too was a loving parent. I think we must rule out suicide. Which brings us back to a double murder. Someone else must have been involved.’

Allison furrowed her brow. ‘Perhaps. Though it is possible—I’ve been thinking, Aleksei, about the poison. It is possible that the second death was an accident. If the perpetrator cut the root with a knife, and perhaps cut his or her hand in the process, the wound could have become contaminated with poison. Or even if some trace of the root was left on the fingers which were then licked—you see, a low dosage, taken by accident—that would have done it.’

‘A murder and an accident?’ Aleksei nodded slowly. ‘That sounds much more plausible.’

‘Yes, but there is one other aspect of the poison which we have not taken account of,’ she added, in a tone that sounded horribly ominous. ‘To administer poison, one must first obtain it, Aleksei. Wolf’s Bane grows in quantity at the Apothecary’s Garden, I saw it myself on my second visit. One plant would not be missed.’