Page 67 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

Shaking her head, she looked back up at Alaric. “It is possible we are being fanciful,” she murmured. “That we are letting ourimaginations and prejudices run away with us. This could simply be a case of bad headaches.”

Alaric, however, shook his head. “There is more. When Christopher was out for a ride earlier today, I snuck into his chambers”

“You didwhat?”

“You will thank me when you learn what I found. There were letters, Your Grace. From an apothecary in Edinburgh. They used medical and herbal terminology I cannot pretend to understand, but there was one line that jumped out at me:Gradual administration ensures the desired effect.”

“But that could mean anything!” Cassandra said, her voice growing shriller as fear and disbelief warred inside of her. “It could be referring to the desired effect of recovery!”

“It could be,” Alaric admitted. “But there was something sinister about it all. For one thing, Christopher told us the tonic was sent from London. So why does he have instructions from an apothecary in Edinburgh? And I feel that if cure was the desired effect, it would have simply said so.”

“Where are these letters?” she demanded. “May I read them?”

“I had to leave them there,” Alaric said apologetically. “I could not risk Christopher discovering they were gone.”

For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other. Cassandra did not know what to think. She wanted to believe Alaric. But she also did not. Christopher being an irresponsible bride-groom was one thing. Even a gambler. But amurderer?

A murderer that she had almost married?

“We need proof,” she murmured at last. “Not just suspicion.”

“Yes,” Alaric agreed. “And we will get it. You must take this vial to the local doctor, Your Grace. Get it examined. We cannot risk asking him about it during his visit, lest Christopher overhear. He cannot know we suspect him, but we must have the truth of this.”

“Yes,” Cassandra agreed, as she tucked the vial into her reticule. “We must have the truth of this.”

Cassandra visited the doctor that very afternoon. She still carried some skepticism as to Christopher’s ability to kill his own brother, but that wasn’t going to stop her from getting to the bottom of things.

She had promised Annabelle that she would not let her become an orphan, and she planned to keep that promise.

***

The doctor took his time examining the vial, holding it up to the light for a long time before carefully shaking out a few of the particles at the bottom of the glass. He then examined these under a looking glass, even taking a few cautious sniffs.

Cassandra had not smelled anything when she had attempted the same thing, and she leaned forward, curious.

“Can you smell anything?” she asked. “The odor could tell us what it is.”

“It could,” the doctor agreed, “if it had an odor. But this does not. Fear not, Your Grace, that also tells us something.”

“It does?”

He smiled at her kindly. “Of course. It helps us eliminate certain powders and herbs.”

He leaned over the sediment once more, his brow furrowing.

“Where did you say His Grace got this, again?” he asked, and Cassandra’s stomach fluttered. She did not want to make accusations, especially in a small village like this, where word got around.

“Another doctor in Edinburgh,” she lied. “But he could have put the wrong ingredients in. I am sure that if whatever is in this vial is making the duke more sick, it is an accident.”

The doctor looked up at her, the wrinkles on his forehead very deep. “That is possible,” he said. “There are any number of things that can be toxic when mixed with the wrong foods. But I shall be looking into the matter very seriously, and I should have an answer for you within a day or two.” He tapped the notepad next to him, where he had been taking notes. “And you said the main symptoms are a headache and fatigue?”

“And irritability,” Cassandra said, nodding. “Although that may come from the fatigue, rather than being a symptom itself.”

“And these started without warning just a few days ago?”

“Yes,” she said, and she hesitated. She wanted to tell him it had begun when his brother had begun serving him wine, but she dare not say that. Instead, she said, “Thank you for your time, Doctor. I hope to hear from you very soon.”

All the way back to Calder Castle, she fretted and worried. There was nothing to do but wait for the doctor’s assessment. To confirm or deny that Christoper was, in fact, poisoning his brother.