Maybe he could order a fire for the patient, then close the flue, shut the door and blame the servants when Dashlend died from the smoke?
If he could only see into everybody’s thoughts he would know if anybody suspected him. If he knew if anybody suspected him, he would know how far he could dare. He could not stand the wondering.
All these ideas swirled round his muddled mind as he made his way through Doanellen’s brandy.
*
MRS.RIGHT, EVERaware of the doings of her household, had watched Lady Margaret come down the stairs. Then, instead of heading toward the drawing room, the lady slipped through the door leading to the stairs and the kitchens below.
What was she doing?
Mrs. Right did not know, but she was determined to find out. She waited long enough for Lady Margaret to get down the stairs and then followed her. In the corridor that led to the kitchens, she paused.
Lady Margaret was talking to Cook. “My good man,” she said, “I have been to see Lord Dashlend and his physician. I thought to come to you to give you a hint before that irascible doctor raises the roof. While I, myself, applaud your care in sending Lord Dashlend a hearty porridge for breakfast I cannot say the same for that charlatan of a doctor. It seems he is stubbornly convinced that the lord requires meats of all sorts, ample potatoes, rolls, butter, coffee, wine, and no salt added to it whatsoever. The salt is only to be in a salt cellar and Lord Dashlend has been given strict instructions on its use. A lot of nonsense, I’m sure, but what are we to do?”
“Oh I see,” Cook said. “Mrs. Right did think my porridge would be just the thing.”
“As do I. Mrs. Right is full of good sense. However, we must keep that physician happy or he will cause all sorts of trouble.”
“Damn doctors,” Cook said.
“Precisely.”
Mrs. Right suppressed a defeated sigh. Lady Margaret was a deal more clever than she seemed. The physician ordered it—what a bit of nonsense that was. It was clear enough the lady was on to the salt in the porridge gambit and would be falcon eyes on the rest of Lord Dashlend’s food.
Mrs. Right was rarely crossed in one of her schemes and she found it very inconvenient. Nevertheless, she might need to pull back on this one. She was quite sure that Lady Margaret would have guessed the housekeeper was behind it. Who else would have both the opportunity and nerve to do it? While the duke was generally so approving of any little thing she did for the family, his ire against Lord Dashlend had seemed to soften on account of the lord rescuing his daughter from a fire.
Perhaps she could still locate some nettles and quietly add them to his bedding.
Chapter Twenty
GRACE AND HERsisters had spent the entire day before in the drawing room, glancing up at the ceiling. Unlike that day, which had been filled with the silence of a sickroom, today they heard things. Lord Dashlend’s valet had come and apparently he was either a heavy walker, or in the habit of moving furniture.
Her father had informed them that a special chair was to be brought in by the physician today to allow Lord Dashlend some amount of time downstairs. She supposed the valet was preparing Lord Dashlend to be presentable.
What would he say when he arrived in his chair? He must be so aggravated with her.
She had hoped she might mitigate his ire. She had forced herself to write to Lady Lavender, informing the lady that Lord Dashlend was currently recovering in the duke’s house and, most importantly, he was not paralyzed. She explained that the lord was to be brought to the drawing room this very afternoon and they would all be pleased to see Lady Lavender at that time.
Grace had presumed the lady would be delighted, but she had received a note back that did not indicate delight at all.
She unfolded it and read it again.
Dear Lady Grace—
It was very kind to alert me to Lord Dashlend’s current location and condition. Though, I find I must inquire as to why? I am certain Lord Dashlend requires being surrounded by his closest friends and relations during this difficult time, and so will respectfully decline your offer of a visit. I do look forward to seeing you at future society events.
Lavender Westcott
It was really very outrageous. Was the lady so lacking in fortitude that she would not countenance a gentleman who suffered from broken ribs and a sprained ankle? Grace, herself, would be prepared to face it if the lord was paralyzed—what were broken ribs to that?
Worse, what was she to say to Lord Dashlend about it? He was already injured physically, must she injure his heart too? Might it not cause a setback of some sort?
“I’m glad she’s not coming,” Winsome said, noting Grace had read the letter once more. “I do not see how we would have managed to be civil.”
“Nelson would not have liked her,” Valor said. “That’s what Mrs. Wendover says.”
“Do not worry too much, Grace,” Serenity said. “I went and spoke to Cook about the tea tray and he is to make his special miniature apple cakes. You see? Lord Dashlend will be distracted by them and not notice that Lady Lavender has thrown him over.”
