Page 98 of Highland Spy

She would not hide from the person who had found them. Though she had not killed the couple in the bed, she was as guilty as Connor, regardless of her ignorance.

“I don’t know you.” The voice addressing Connor was a woman’s. “Who is behind you?”

Ariana peered around Connor’s broad shoulder and her heart stopped beating for the briefest of moments.

Lady MacAlister, the woman she’d assumed to be lying dead beside her husband in the bed, stood before them in a regal blue gown with an icy countenance.

“Lady MacAlister,” she breathed.

The noblewoman arched an eyebrow. “Bess? Is that you?” She tilted her head. “I must say, brown hair suits you better than that garish blonde.” She waved a hand toward Connor. “Who is this?”

Ariana paused, uncertain what to say. Had Lady MacAlister seen her husband yet, or the woman who had died beside him?

And who was the woman beside him, if not Lady MacAlister?

“A friend.” It was all Ariana could manage. She couldn’t give away Connor’s name when she hadn’t even supplied her own.

Lady MacAlister nodded in obvious satisfaction and approached the bed with curiosity. “Do call me Isabel,” she said. “And I’d prefer to know your real name as well.”

To Ariana’s horror, Lady MacAlister—Isabel—touched her husband’s neck with the press of her fingertips. She regarded the other woman with a pensive expression then turned to Ariana once more.

“Did you wish to accept my offer as lady’s maid?” Isabel asked her.

Ariana frowned slightly, not understanding the question nor why Isabel appeared entirely unperturbed by her husband’s death.

Isabel pulled the ribbon at her bodice and began unlacing the long satin ties. “I’ll need you to help me put her in my clothing, then make me look like a whore.” She stared down at the woman on the bed. “Like her.”

The world had gone entirely mad, and Ariana was left standing dumbly there to bear witness.

“What are you getting at?” Connor demanded.

Isabel narrowed her eyes at him, the glare in her gaze sharp and spiteful. “This pathetic excuse for a husband I was forced to marry takes whatever he wants, whether it be land or coin. Or me.” Her lips curled with unmasked loathing. “I won’t tell you what he did to me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of living with him anymore—even the idea of his very touch.”

She shuddered.

“And the woman?” Ariana asked, finding her voice.

Isabel’s face softened. “The woman was guilty only of being the unfortunate girl to bed a wealthy, married man in the hopes of gaining glory later. It was to my benefit that she happened to look very similar to me. Apparently my husband—” she spat out the word “—enjoyed women with red hair.”

Isabel jerked the last of the ribbon through the bodice and it sagged away from her body. She did not pause in pulling it off and letting it land in a heap on the floor.

Connor turned away.

Ariana caught the fine garment and lifted it lest it get dirty. “Why are we putting it on her?”

Isabel paused and faced the dead woman. “Because she will be buried a noblewoman.”

“As you,” Ariana surmised.

“Yes.” Isabel pulled the tie of her brilliant blue skirt. It belled around her waist before pooling on the floor. “And I thank you for the poison you gave me. I had no idea how potent it was until I saw how quickly it killed off the rats in my room that night. Perfect, considering I had my own rat to see dead.”

Ariana snapped upright. “My poison?” So, Connor had not been the source of their demise. She had unjustly accused him. Her cheeks went hot and she glanced toward Connor.

His back tensed, a slight action Ariana did not miss.

“The one I took from your pocket. I knew you were more than just a lowly wench.” Isabel gave her a conspiring grin.

The round vial.