She made to leave, but Dominic stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Lady Sarah finally spoke, her voice tight with restraint. “Lord Warwicke, unless you have proof, this is slanderous. Accusing someone of poisoning is hardly civilized conduct.”
Dominic pointed to the teacup. “Dorothea fell ill after your daughter’s first visit. And then again after the second. If I’m right, today would mark the third dose—enough to make the effects unmistakable.”
Mrs. Haverleigh raised her brows. “And what kind of poison is administered in three carefully spaced doses?”
“The kind designed to mimic illness,” Dominic replied. “Slow. Subtle. But deadly. If I’m mistaken, you won’t mind sipping the tea meant for my wife.”
Mrs. Haverleigh’s eyes narrowed. “This is ridiculous.”
“I don’t think so,” Dominic said. “You stand to gain the most if Dorothea were to die.”
Just then, Constable Prentice entered the room. “I must side with Lord Warwicke on this,” he said firmly. “If you’re so confident the tea is harmless, then taking a sip shouldn’t trouble you.”
Mrs. Haverleigh turned to him, brow arched. “And who exactly are you?”
“Merely a constable,” Prentice said. “But a persuasive one.”
Dorothea stood now, beside Dominic, her voice quiet but trembling. “Do you really believe Arabella would do this?”
Dominic didn’t look away from Mrs. Haverleigh. “I do.”
Mrs. Haverleigh rolled her eyes. “Fine. If it will end this absurdity, I’ll drink the tea.” She lifted the teacup and raised it to her lips.
“Wait!” Lady Sarah’s voice cracked through the room, sharp with panic.
Mrs. Haverleigh froze. “What? Why?”
Lady Sarah’s face had gone pale, her hands trembling. Her voice was barely audible as she said, “Because… it’s poisoned.”
A stunned silence fell over the room.
Mrs. Haverleigh stared at her mother, mouth agape. “You?You did this?”
With a slow, almost resigned nod, Lady Sarah turned her gaze to her daughter. “It was all for you,” she said, her voice composed, but stripped of warmth. “I’ve known about the second will for some time, and I refused to let you lose everything, Arabella. I couldn’t stand by and let you become… me.”
Mrs. Haverleigh blinked. “But I wouldn’t have, Mother,” she said. “Matthew would have seen me taken care of. He promised me?—”
Lady Sarah’s expression twisted into something bitter. “And my husband promised me the very same. Promises mean little when men lose everything on a roll of dice and a bottle of port. He gambled away our future, our security—everything.I was left with debts, shame, and no place in Society.”
She paused, her voice trembling as she continued. “I know what it is to be discarded. I would not let that be your fate.”
Dorothea spoke up. “But… you were always kind to me,” she whispered. “How could you try to kill me?”
Lady Sarah turned towards her, and for the first time, the civility that had always colored her expression was stripped away. “Because love is not always gentle. Sometimes love is desperate. Sometimes, a mother will do anything—even the unforgivable—if she believes it will save her child.”
Dorothea took an unsteady step back, and Dominic placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back.
Constable Prentice moved forward then, his boots thudding softly against the carpet. “That’s quite enough,” he said, his tone clipped. “You can explain the rest at Newgate.”
Mrs. Haverleigh shot forward, placing herself between her mother and the constable, her voice rising in a near panic. “No, you can’t. She’s old and frail. She didn’t know what she was doing.”
Constable Prentice’s eyes remained steady. “Your mother just admitted to poisoning Lady Warwicke. I’ve little choice in the matter.”
Lady Sarah slowly pushed herself to her feet, gripping her cane with a white-knuckled hand. The room seemed to tilt around her as she leveled her gaze at Dominic. “Before I go, I want to know something,” she said. “How did you figure it out?”
