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“I ken today we should talk tae the apothecary,” Fin said. “And mebbe later, take another run at Marcus. See if a night in thae dark cells loosened his tongue any.”
Hollis nodded. “Aye. Sounds like a plan,” he said. “But dae ye truly b’lieve the lad had anythin’ tae dae with it?”
“Daenae yet,” Fin said. “Me gut’s tellin’ me he put the poison in the Duke’s cup. But I cannae prove it.”
“And who put the poison in Col’s? Couldnae’ve been Marcus.”
He shook his head. “I daenae that either. But yer right, it couldnae’ve been Marcus,” he admitted. “Which makes me ken there’s a bigger plan in motion. Tis a conspiracy afoot and somebody’s hidin’ in thae shadows, pullin’ thae strings.”
Hollis shrugged. “The Duke’n Col have enemies on both sides of the border,” he noted. “There’s plenty of men in Scotland’n Aingland who’d see them both daid.”
“Aye. But it seems tae big a coincidence that both the Duke and Col were targeted within days of each other tae make me b’lieve it.”
Hollis nodded. “Aye. I’d the same thought, actually.”
“I wish I’d had the thought sooner,” Fin said. “I assumed twas the same assassin.”
“Daenae be tae hard on yerself,” Hollis told him. “We all thought that. Col did tae if ye remember.”
“Aye, but that means Col and Gillian’re still in danger,” Fin said grimly.
“So, who’s pullin’ thae strings?” Fin mused aloud. “Who got Marcus and whoever tried to poison Col to dae it?”
“I’ve not a clue,” Hollis replied. “But we need tae find out.”
“Aye. We dae,” Fin stated. “And we need tae get word tae Alistair tae keep tighter security ‘round Col and Gillian. And tae start questionin’ the household staff.”
“I’ll send a rider with a message tae Westmarch after breakfast.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Tough tae believe one of our own could’ve done this.”
“Aye,” Fin nodded. “But until we ken otherwise, we’ve got tae b’lieve it’s true.”
The doors to the hall opened with a loud creak, and Fin looked up. The Baron of Elix and Lady Ivy were walking through the doors. As dictated by custom, he and Hollis rose to their feet and waited until the newcomers were seated before sitting down again. A moment later, an army of the household staff descended upon the hall bearing more trays of food than Fin knew they could eat - even with Hollis’ notoriously hollow stomach.
He watched them set out trays of ham, eggs, fried potatoes, and rashers of bacon. There were sweet rolls and other fruit-filled pastries, as well as peaches that had been soaked in a brandy glaze. Everything looked and smelled amazing, and Fin’s stomach rumbled as he breathed it all in. Hollis cut him a look, and he shrugged, giving him the signal to dig in.
Once they all had plates of food in front of them and had started eating, an awkward silence descended over the hall. The only sound was the smacking of lips and the scrape of fork on plate. Fin cut a glance at Ivy and saw her daintily picking at a plate that had some of the brandied peaches and a couple of the small pastries. When she looked up and caught him staring, he quickly looked away and cleared his throat.
As they ate, the four of them stole glances at one another for long moments. The air between them all crackled with tension, and it seemed as if a battle of wills had commenced as they sized each other up. The man Fin knew to be Castor put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin.
“Good morning. I am Castor Welton, Baron of Elix,” he announced. “This is my sister, the Lady Ivy.”
Fin gave them both a nod, his eyes lingering on Ivy, who was wearing a light blue dress with a high collar that looked to have been made from silk and had intricate black scrollwork down the sleeves. Her brother wore dark breeches and a tunic that matched his sister’s. A brocaded dark blue sash stretched from his shoulder to his waist nearly causing Fin to roll his eyes before he caught himself. Everything about the man was neatly squared away and perfectly coiffed. There was not a hair out of place.
It was then that Fin decided that Castor was a preener and the sort of man more concerned with the well-being of his wardrobe than his people. Somebody he could easily dismiss. But for the moment, he knew that he had to play his role.
“I’m Fin Begbie, and this is my second, Hollis Karstan,” Fin said by way of introduction.
“Your second what?” Castor asked.
A sly smile pulled the corners of the Baron’s mouth upward that grated on Fin’s nerves. There was something he did not like about Castor that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps it was his preening, or perhaps it just felt like the man was a buzzard circling the not-yet-dead carcass of Duke Hamilton. Whatever it was, Fin was on edge, and he remained stone-faced.
Seeing that his joke had fallen flat, Castor cleared his throat. “You’re Scotsmen,” he said. “What brings you to York?”
