Chapter Fourteen #2
While she waited for the numbness to recede and her body to return to a normal temperature, she became aware of the familiar scents of sandalwood, citrus, and lavender emanating from the overcoat still wrapped around her shoulders.
Impulsively, she hugged the coat to herself, reveling in the feel of the fine wool and the pleasing fragrance.
The knowledge that this coat had been wrapped around the doctor’s body filled Selena with an almost overpowering sense of delight … and want.
She wished, suddenly, that the man himself were wrapped around her, rather than just his overcoat.
That she were in his arms again, and he were kissing her the way he had in the linen closet.
The memory of that interlude came back to her full force and caused a thrilling sizzle to reverberate in Selena’s very core.
Her face grew warm. She really must stop thinking about that.
Dr. Scott had insisted that their kiss had been outside the bounds of propriety, and it should never happen again.
She might not like that assessment, but she had to respect it.
He was only here by chance, after all. They may have been working together to try to solve a mystery or two, but as he’d said, their theories were all built on conjectures and fueled by a couple of anonymous notes.
Whether or not they were on the right track remained to be seen.
If the pair was lucky enough to find that hidden money, Dr. Scott could well be out the door as soon as the weather cleared.
And she wouldn’t blame him. He was a doctor with a medical practice to return to.
Someday, she would look back on this time with him as a brief, exciting, merely stolen romantic moment.
With a sigh, Selena gave the overcoat one last, full-body caress. In doing so, she felt something inside one of the inner pockets. She pulled out a calling card. It read:
DR. ANDREW DALTON
Licensed Physician
26 Brompton Road, Hampstead, London
Selena stared at the card. What was Dr. Scott doing with another man’s card in his pocket?
Unless … A sudden thought occurred to her that made her stomach tighten and her head spin. Was Dr. Scott the man he claimed to be?
*
Selena, dressed now in a gown of deep lavender silk, marched down the south hall corridor with Dr. Scott’s overcoat over her arm. She got to Dr. Scott’s chamber just as he was exiting the room.
“Doctor,” she said, offering him the coat.
He stopped before her, a sparkle in his blue eyes as he accepted the garment. “You are very prompt in returning it.”
Selena saw no reason to beat around the bush. “I found this in the pocket.” She handed him the calling card.
He studied it and went still. The color seemed to drain from his face—or had she, wondering if he was hiding something, just imagined that? He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize I still had his card in my pocket.”
“Whose card?” Selena persisted.
“Dr. Dalton’s—a colleague of mine.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He called on me the day before I left London for the holidays.”
“London?” Selena shot back. “You said you’re from Bath.”
He blinked. “I am. But … I was in London for a few days before I traveled north. Dr. Dalton and I met for a drink at my hotel.”
“Oh.” Selena’s face warmed with sudden embarrassment. His explanation was perfectly reasonable.
He shot her a quizzical look. “Why are you so concerned about his calling card?”
“I’m not,” she replied quickly. “I just wondered, that’s all.”
Dr. Scott’s eyebrows drew together. “All right. I’ll just put my coat—and my friend’s card—in my room. And I’ll meet you downstairs?”
“Yes, yes.” Selena hurried off. Why do you see deceit everywhere? she silently chastised herself as she fled down the stairs. You must stop that.
Her stomach growled. Selena recalled that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink that day. She wanted desperately to get a quick bite in the morning room, but a more important concern suddenly struck her.
Selena spotted the housekeeper below and stopped her at the base of the stairs. “Mrs. Middleton! I presume, by now everyone has heard what happened to Mrs. Whitlock?”
“Yes, Miss Taylor.” The housekeeper’s expression was grim. “Such a sad business.”
“How has Mrs. Hillman taken the awful news?” Selena was worried, for Mrs. Hillman had just lost another friend.
“As well as can be expected, miss. Mrs. Hillman said she is grieved and confused about what happened, but she has not taken to her bed. And she had the presence of mind to distribute Boxing Day gifts to the staff not half an hour ago.”
Selena had forgotten, in the madness of the morning, that it was Boxing Day. Mrs. Hillman’s reaction was both a relief and illuminating, since she had practically fallen apart when Mr. Clarke had died. “And our guests? How are they faring?”
“I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions, miss. Mrs. Hillman and the others are all waiting for you in the drawing room.”
Selena nodded. No quick bite in the morning room, then. “Thank you, Mrs. Middleton.” She paused. “But wait—why are you still here? You and the rest of the staff were off duty at ten o’clock.”
“Yes, miss. But the weather’s so bad, none of us can go anywhere. I thought I may as well help out as long as I’m here.”
“I appreciate that, but it’s Boxing Day. Please, take this time for yourself. You have earned it.”
Mrs. Middleton thanked her, curtsied, and took her leave.
As she headed for the drawing room, Mrs. Hillman’s pronouncement that she was grieved and confused repeated in Selena’s mind. She was grieved and confused herself.
Had Mrs. Whitlock’s death, she wondered once again, been an accident? Or had someone poisoned her nightcap? Either way, how were she and the doctor to ever learn the truth? There would be a great many questions, she feared, from the group who were awaiting her. What should she tell them?
In the drawing room, Selena found Mrs. Hillman and all the guests except Dr. Scott fully dressed and in hushed conversation. Selena couldn’t help but notice, with a sharp twinge, how their group had dwindled since the day the house party had begun.
“Is it true?” Miss Goodwin rose from her chair, her voice ringing with incredulity as she addressed Selena. “Mrs. Whitlock is dead?”
“I’m afraid so.” Selena did her best to appear composed, even though her mind was still buzzing with a thousand questions.
“How on Earth did it happen?” asked Mrs. Hillman, from her seat on the wingback chair beside the fire.
She was, as promised, much calmer than she had been two mornings ago, when Mr. Clarke had died.
“Miss Thompson and Colonel Blackwood said that Mrs. Whitlock died during the night from some kind of overdose?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Selena answered.
“But how?” Mrs. Hillman asked.
“I can answer that.” Dr. Scott strode into the room and stopped by the hearth, where he addressed the group.
“I regret to say that at 7:30 this morning, Miss Thompson found Mrs. Whitlock unresponsive in her bed. We found a half-empty laudanum bottle on Mrs. Whitlock’s bedside table.
In the residue from her bedtime drink, I detected the taste of laudanum.
I believe she must have added some of the tincture to her hot toddy and the combination of the drug and alcohol proved to be lethal. ”
“Dear lord.” Mrs. Hillman’s face went ghostly pale.
Colonel Blackwood’s mouth turned downwards. “In effect, she accidentally killed herself.”
“It certainly looks that way.” Dr. Scott clasped his hands and stared at the carpet.
“‘Looks that way’?” Mr. Davis sat up straighter on the sofa. “What do you mean, Doctor? Could there be some other explanation?”
“I didn’t say that,” Dr. Scott replied.
“And yet you implied it.” Mr. Davis spread his hands wide in inquiry. “Do we know for certain that Mrs. Whitlock knowingly took that much laudanum? Or did someone douse her hot toddy on purpose?”
Selena caught Dr. Scott’s eye. His forehead turned down in a frown, echoing Selena’s inner turmoil.
They had agreed not to mention this alternative theory—but it seemed the idea was not to be silenced.
How would they explain this without raising a general panic and drawing attention to the missing money?
Another thought crossed Selena’s mind, adding to her anxiety. If Mrs. Whitlock had indeed been murdered, was the perpetrator in this very room?