Magic.
To be caught in a cyclone one moment and standing in calm the next.
I’m living in the eye of a storm.
Her brother stood in front of her, his black hair askew, his green eyes flashing with something akin to fear. He seemed at a loss for words, something he had never been before.
‘Thomas. What are you doing here?’
Another man stepped into her line of vision. His mess of curly hair was in direct contrast to the crisp white cravat, starched collar and smart jacket of Superintendent Lachlan MacDougal. He held a cup of tea in his hands. Which was very strange indeed. She had never seen the superintendent drink tea. Hadn’t she had tea?
‘Superintendent. I wasn’t expecting your company. I must tell Mrs Higgins to—’ She stopped abruptly. This wasn’t right. She hadn’t invited anyone over this afternoon. And the superintendent never accepted her invitations at any rate. Her brother’s best friend – the man who had carried poor Thomas across battlefields littered with dead men so that he could be patched up and sent home to her over a decade ago – had only come to dinner once. But now he stood in front of her, offering Cynthia a porcelain cup painted with dusky pink roses.
Ah. So, the tea is for me.
But I don’t want this cup of tea. I didn’t want the last cup of tea.
I want all of this to make sense.
She must be waking from a dream. Or perhaps it was a nightmare.
Shaking her head, she tried to recall what had occurred, but the day was a muddle of images and sounds. The peach upholstery beneath her fingers was soft as she rubbed in rhythmic circles.
When had she walked to her front parlour?
Soothing cream walls with sage printed vines were nothing like the dark wood panelling of her husband’s office. She remembered choosing the wallpaper because it felt wild and free. But now, the vines were wrapping around her chest, tightening, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
‘Why am I here?’ She forced herself to focus on her brother’s clear green eyes. ‘I was looking for Hubert. He—’ She looked down, staring at a crimson stain on her satin skirt. Shaking her head, she turned to Superintendent MacDougal. Lines creased either side of his mouth, which was turned down in a slight frown. His thick brows drew together over eyes the colour of freshly turned soil.
And then it all came crashing back.
Her husband, face down on the rug. His eyes open, staring sightlessly. His skin a ghastly grey. Blood pooling around him like blackberry cordial.
Nausea rolled from her belly up her throat. She gagged, pressing her hand against her mouth. A proper lady did not become ill in front of gentlemen.
Thomas sat down next to her on the couch, patting her on the back with awkward thumps. ‘I told you she needed time. Damn it, Lachlan. Must we do this now?’
Superintendent MacDougal set down the tea.
‘Just breathe, Cyn.’ It was an old nickname her brother hadn’t used since they were children, which seemed appropriate as she felt very little just now. And very scared.
Thomas fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled packet of sweets. ‘Here.’ He thrust the bag at her. ‘Clio swears these help settle her stomach when she’s a wee bit peaky.’
Cynthia whipped her head up. ‘Is she here?’ Because what she needed more than any of these fumbling men was a woman. A friend.
She met Clio Blair five months prior, when the young lady had been investigating a case with Cynthia’s brother. Predictably, Thomas and Clio fell in love and were recently married. They were planning a wedding tour, but mercifully, Clio wanted to wait until the fall. Which meant all spring and summer, she had only been a short carriage ride away. Cynthia loved her sister-in-law dearly and very much wanted the comfort of her company.
‘She is in the other room.’
‘Can you fetch her, Superintendent?’
‘Drink your tea, Lady Burrows.’
Cynthia wrinkled her nose before remembering a lady did not dislike tea. But she had always secretly hated the drink. She preferred coffee, a scandalous admission. Cynthia had never refused a dish of tea in her life, but she couldn’t force herself to pick up the delicate cup. Not today.
‘Lachlan.’ Her brother’s strangled response stiffened her spine.
Something was wrong.
