Chapter 4
Four
“What the devil is she playing at?” Warner frowned down at the report his private guard, Mr. Porter, had just handed him. “You are sure of what you saw?
They were standing in the study of Scarfield castle. It had been nearly a week since he had seen his cousin’s widow at the gentleman’s club, and in that time, she had managed to become a nearly constant headache.
“Yes, Your Grace. It was definitely her. She had those widows with her.” Mr. Porter wrinkled his nose. “Mind you, they were dressed as men, but I saw through their disguises.”
“But why were they there?” Warner chewed on his lip. “What would they want at a boxing match?”
“As far as I could see, they simply wished to enjoy the fight. I followed her after, but she went straight back home.” Mr. Porter shrugged. “She visits many places, sometimes dressed as a man, sometimes a woman. Sometimes with her friends and sometimes alone.”
Warner scanned the list of places Lady Adelaide had visited, trying to put together a pattern, but he could see none. Well, he could see some, namely that many of them were once familiar to him.
That version of me is gone. He would not let it back, not when his cousin had spent so long saving him from it.
The places Lady Adelaide visited were scandalous yes, but nothing that seemed to suggest she was the poisoner. If anything, it looked like the adventures of a particularly rebellious youth.
“She certainly seems to be enjoying herself,” Warner muttered, and to his irritation, he realised that the corner of his lips were quirking into a smile. What is wrong with me? “It seems she took my warning to heart.”
Unbidden, the scent of roses filled his mind. The memory of the warmth of her against his body in the alley set his hairs on end, and he absently ran a hand across his chest.
How she had thought anyone could mistake her for a man in that disguise, he would never know. Even with that ridiculous, fake moustache, she had been far too beautiful to be anything but a woman.
His eyes fell onto one location, and his heart skittered to a halt. “These visits to the docks. Do you know what they are about?”
“She goes to the King’s Arms.” Mr. Porter clearly mistook Warner’s shocked expression for something else and added, “It is a public house, Your Grace.”
“I am aware of it, thank you,” Warner replied drily. “I have even graced it with my patronage on a few occasions.”
Mr. Porter flushed and tugged at his collar. “I was not sure if you would be. It is a rather… rough establishment. Few people of your station would see fit to visit.”
“That is one way of putting it. Which begs the question, why are she and her friends going there so often?” Warner traced his finger across the name of the pub.
Is this proof of her guilt?
To his irritation, he had found it increasingly difficult to believe that the woman had murdered his cousin. Yes, she still had the most to gain, but even from his brief interactions with her, there was something that did not seem to fit her as a killer.
He ran a hand across his chest absently, remembering the feel of her against him when he had confronted her in the alley. It was getting harder to blame her powers of manipulation for his hesitation.
“She goes alone.” The man shrugged.
“What?” Warner exclaimed, rising to his feet.
His outburst made Mr. Porter rock back, stumbling in his haste to push away from the table. “Your Grace?”
“What do you mean she goes to the King’s Arms alone?” Warner demanded, his heart racing.
“She is dressed as a man, Your Grace.” Mr. Porter swallowed, balking at Warner’s glower.
“That is beside the point. I have seen her disguise, and it is a poor one. Any idiot with eyes would be able to tell. Even her attempts to walk like a man are—are…” Elegant. Alluring. “… too graceful.”
Warner dug his nails into the palms of his hand. “She will get herself killed. There are all sorts of cutpurses in that area. Few men would be safe there, let alone a lady.”
What is she thinking? Warner could not understand it. A little scandal was one thing, but this was just irresponsible. The revelation of that recklessness cemented just how na?ve the woman was in his mind.
“Is she meeting someone?” Warner demanded.
“No. As far as I can tell, she just talks to the patrons, asking about rumours.” Mr. Porter swallowed, twirling his bowler hat in his hands.
“About rumours? There are easier ways to gather gossip than to risk her life.” Warner dug the knuckles of his hand into his temples.
At that moment there was a knock at the door, and Warner called, “Enter.”
The coroner emerged, and Warner beckoned him over. Mr. Porter stepped away from the desk, allowing the other man more space.
“Tell me you have something useful to share.” Warner gestured to the man as he put his black bag on the ground.
“Whether it is useful remains to be seen, Your Grace.” The coroner pulled a wad of papers from his bag. “As instructed, I am bringing you the report, and then I will share it with the Bow Street Runners. You are sure Duke Erindale does not wish to be informed?”
“I will tell him myself,” Warner explained. “And my cousin Tobias, once he is back from the war.”
His uncle was still in the throes of grief. Warner had several servants reporting to him, ensuring that the man was at least fed, but he was in no state to handle this investigation. Even if he had been, Warner knew he would not be able to let it go.
I owe Rothwell too much. Catching his killer is the least I can do.
“As you wish, Your Grace.” The coroner nodded. “The details are all in the report, but to sum up my findings: the Marquess of Kidlington was poisoned. It is likely that the poison was ingested and not administered through touch.”
The words hit Warner like a blow to the stomach. “Are you certain of this?”
“As certain as it is possible to be, Your Grace.” The coroner ran a hand through his greasy hair. “It is not an exact science, but from my examinations, the contents of his stomach, the rate of purification and severity of symptoms, cyanide was used and a rather large dose at that.”
“Are you sure it could not have been on the gloves?” Mr. Porter asked.
“If the poison had been on the gloves, then Lady Kidlington would also have succumbed to it.” The coroner shook his head. “At that dose, the smell alone would have alerted people to it.”
“Could it have been an accident?” Warner ran a hand through his hair.
“No. Whoever did this meant to kill. The dose was at least twice a lethal one. There is a chance the Marquess was not the intended victim of course. After all, there were several other important people at the wedding.” The coroner gave him a meaningful look.
“That is a troubling thought. If my cousin was not the intended victim…” Warner let out a frustrated growl. “There are too many questions and too few answers. I shall let my uncle know that there is a chance Rothwell was not the intended victim. He should take steps to protect himself.”
“And yourself?” the coroner asked.
“You need not worry on that front. I am well guarded.” Warner made a dismissive gesture. “I think it most likely that Rothwell was the intended target.”
“And the fact that it was ingested does not mean the widow is innocent. After all, poison is a woman’s weapon,” yhe Coroner added.
For some reason, the coroner’s words made Warner’s jaw clench.
“We cannot rule anyone out. But I find myself less and less convinced of her guilt. She is far too… innocent to mastermind such a thing. Innocent or careless, and neither of these things would suggest the kind of person who could execute this scheme and not be caught before now.”
“Perhaps it is an affectation,” Mr. Porter suggested.
“You do not take the risks she is taking unless you are unaware of just how much danger you are in — or if you care very little for your own life.” That fire in her eyes when he’d accused her: was it false indignation or the despair of a woman with nothing left to lose?
Warner was not sure which was the more worrying prospect and massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger.
This is the last thing I needed — a foolish woman that I need to look after.
The coroner arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing more. Warner knew the man would not ask for more details and was grateful for it.
“Regardless, I am not sure when she would have had a chance to administer the poison. She almost always had her hands around her own drink, at least from when I arrived.”
“You were watching her rather closely.” The coroner’s face was a masterclass in blankness.
“No more closely than I watched anyone else. I make it my business to notice things others miss.” Warner made a dismissive gesture. “How long would the poison have taken to affect him?”
“It is hard to say. Not everyone reacts to these things in the same way.” The coroner shrugged. “It may have been mere moments, perhaps closer to an hour. I think the latter is unlikely though.”
Warner nodded. Whatever poison he ate or drank, it would have happened during the time I was there. “Very well. Please, share this with the Bow Street Runners. You have my gratitude for being so thorough.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The coroner bowed and made his way towards the door. “May his killer be brought to justice.”
After the coroner left, Warner turned to Mr. Porter. “Everything in your report, you will keep to yourself.”
“Of course.” Mr. Porter inclined his head.
“And you will continue to follow her, preferably without her knowing.” Warner’s eyes drifted to the list, re-reading the words ‘the King’s Arms’.
“I thought you said you did not suspect her.” Mr. Porter’s brow furrowed.
“I said my suspicion was dwindling though I find it hard to suspect her given what we know. You will still report her activity to me; I am asking you to follow her for her own protection.” Warner gave Mr. Porter a dismissive wave of his hand, but to his surprise, the other man did not leave.
“You wish to protect her?” The surprise was clear in his voice.
“It is nothing to do with her. She is my cousin’s widow; I owe it to him to keep her safe, especially as the woman seems determined to get herself killed chasing idle gossip.”
He let out a frustrated growl. “Besides, I am sure there is more to this whole business, and I suspect she holds the key. If she dies, I might never discover it.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mr. Porter swallowed. “I understand.”
“Good. Oh, and Mr. Porter, see to it that knowledge of her escapades is kept to a minimum. If you think she may have been discovered, you will let me know immediately. Those rats at the Post love nothing more than a scandal.”
“But surely it does not matter if she is discovered?”
“You forget yourself, Mr. Porter. It is not for you to question my orders.” Warner’s voice was cold as ice.
Mr. Porter flinched. “I meant no offence, Your Grace. I did not mean to imply I was questioning your judgement. I was just… I was a little taken aback — that is all — that you would expend such resources on this woman.”
Warner nodded and sighed. I do not want him getting the wrong idea. “It is not for her sake but my uncle’s. The last thing he needs is a scandal to distract him from his grief. And there is every chance that it might compromise the investigation.”
“I see.” Mr. Porter twirled his hat one more time and then swept into a bow. “I shall take my leave of you, Your Grace, and ensure my men know what is expected of them.”
“Thank you.” Warner turned from the man and stared out of the window.
The sky was grey, and in the distance, lightning crackled followed by a boom of thunder. Warner took a sip of his whiskey. What he had asked Mr. Porter to do would be a lot of work, but he had not lied. It was necessary.
He let out a sigh as he rested his head against the cool glass. “I thought I was trouble, but Lady Adelaide may have given the word a whole new meaning.”