Chapter Eight
Katherine
Katherine stopped at the top of the stairs, sucking in a deep breath. She could do this. It was only dinner. She would smile. Nod. And no one would know she had killed Lord Perrin.
Except for Mr. Taylor. She started down the steps.
Their conversation earlier had left her feeling…
unsettled. Her gaze flew to the spot at the bottom of the stairs.
The spot where Perrin had lain, crumpled.
Mr. Taylor had said he wouldn’t be able to testify against her if they wed.
He said he loved her. She couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Taylor had waited to make such declarations until he saw a clear path to matrimony to her – and access to her father’s money.
She stopped on the third step from the bottom, still staring at the carpet.
If Mr. Taylor only pressed for her hand because he wanted to increase his wealth or status in society, he would be sorely disappointed.
The money her father would endow if she married well would disappear if she married beneath her station.
“Not even a depression in the carpet remains.”
Katherine started at the voice behind her. She shifted, turned, then gasped as her heel twisted off the step, spilling her backwards. She windmilled her arms, but gravity had its way. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain.
A pair of iron arms wrapped around her instead.
Opening one eye, Katherine saw an expanse of dark brown wool inches from her face. She turned her head, and the edges of a cravat tickled her nose.
“Are you all ri—. Oh, no.”
She began to respond, but they were already moving, tumbling that last step down. An ‘oof’ escaped his lips when he hit the ground. Her landing was better padded, his body cushioning her impact.
“Mr. Evans? Are you injured?” Katherine pressed up to kneeling, examining the attorney. He was staring at the ceiling, a muscle in his jaw twitching. But there wasn’t that horrible, vacant look in his eyes like last time. There wasn’t….
She looked around. They were lying roughly where Perrin’s body had come to a rest. Her stomach twisted. “Oh, God.” She scrambled back, her hands pushing against his chest, her knee pressing into—
An oath exploded from his mouth. Faster than she could apprehend, he rolled, tucking her body beneath his.
Katherine was left blinking at the ceiling. She tapped his shoulder. “Mr. Evans?”
“Give. Me. A. Moment.” His voice was guttural, each word sounding as though it had to be forced out.
His body was warm and draped over hers in a most interesting manner. This close, she could smell the soap he had used for his ablutions. It wasn’t unpleasant having this large man’s body covering hers.
It also wasn’t decent.
She pushed again at his shoulder. “Mr. Evans, you really must—”
“A moment,” he gritted out.
She sighed, their bodies shifting. And then there was another problem to consider. One more immediate. She pounded on his shoulder. “I can’t…breathe.”
With a sigh of his own, Mr. Evans pushed off of her and flipped to his back. “You have very pointy knees.”
Katherine didn’t know how to respond to that. She’d always thought her legs, knees included, rather shapely.
The sound of a throat clearing had Katherine jackknifing into a seated position.
Mr. Evans remained supine.
A maid, Marie, Katherine thought her name was, stood by the foot of the stairs, a stack of folded towels in her arms. “Can I ’elp you with anything? A brandy? A footman to carry you to your room?” There was more pertness than solicitude in her voice, and Katherine flushed.
“A footman will certainly well not carry me to my room.” Something that sounded very much like a growl emanated from the attorney’s chest. “I just need a moment.”
Katherine climbed to her feet and ran her hands over her hair.
“You’ve had plenty of those now.” She toed his hip.
“Get up.” The story of how she and Mr. Evans had been rolling together on the floor would most likely make the rounds in the servants’ quarters, but she didn’t need another witness to her humiliation.
She turned to Marie. “We slipped. On the stairs.”
“Yes. Congratulations to whoever is tasked with polishing them.” Mr. Evans heaved himself to standing.
His face was a bit gray, but otherwise he looked unharmed.
He tugged on the cuff of his jacket. “Perhaps a carpet down their length wouldn’t go amiss, however.
A person could kill themselves….” He darted a look at the floor, the section where Perrin had lain, and pursed his mouth.
Katherine’s stomach fluttered. “Yes, well, mayhap the next owner will see to that. We’d best get to dinner before it gets cold. I hear Cook Clem has returned to the kitchen. We don’t want to miss his efforts.”
Without waiting to see if Mr. Evans would follow, Katherine trotted to the dining room. Everyone else had already arrived. The looks she received were a mixture of annoyance and relief.
“Finally.” Lady Mary snapped her napkin into her lap. “We only wait on Mr. Evans now to partake in Clem’s coq au vin. I hear it is sublime.”
“You need wait no longer.” Mr. Evans followed her in, his arm brushing her shoulder.
Her face heated just remembering how much of him she’d felt before. Keeping her gaze down, she found her seat. “Yes, I can’t wait to sample Cook Clem’s fares. I’ve heard so much of his skill. I wonder if he will remain here for the next Lord Perrin or look for employment elsewhere.”
Lady Havenstone waited for a footman to pour her wine. “I’m certain Cook Clem will want to leave this dreary place. He will go to those who will appreciate him most.”
Lady Mary narrowed her eyes. “I quite agree. A talented chef like him will want to join a fine house in the city, I would think.”
Lady Havenstone nodded. She slid a small packet from her left sleeve and poured the contents into her wine. She swirled her glass, making the powder dissolve. “For my digestion, you know.”
Mr. Evans took the seat next to hers, his elbow brushing her arm. Katherine squeezed her arms to her side and looked across the table to her father. “How was your day, Father?”
“Deadly dull.” He frowned. “No one here offers any challenge in billiards, and Perrin’s library is dreadfully lacking in anything interesting to read.”
Lady Mary leaned forward and inhaled deeply as a bowl of consommé was laid before her. “The library is full of histories and treatises on philosophy and natural sciences.”
Katherine’s father snorted. “As I said, nothing interesting. Every library should have at least one mind-rotting novel or two.” He turned to his own soup, and his complaints appeared soon forgotten, his focus only on his meal.
“It’s a good thing you brought some of your own books with you, Katherine. ”
“I’m so glad Cook Clem is feeling better.
” Miss Walker was seated at the foot of the table.
Whether she had been placed there or decided to take that spot opposite the place of the master of the house for herself, Katherine didn’t know.
As Perrin’s intended, well, almost intended, the space across from Perrin should have fallen to her, she thought.
As Katherine hadn’t been eager to marry the earl in any event, she was happy to let that transgression go uncontested.
“Indeed.” Lady Havenstone scooped up another spoonful of the soup. “It seems his is the only cooking that doesn’t upset my stomach. I have a delicate digestion, you know.”
Katherine’s father snorted, but kept his attention on his own dish.
Lady Mary leaned back from her empty bowl. “Now that we are all together, I feel I must bring up the matter of Lord Perrin’s death.”
Lord Havenstone blotted his lips with his napkin. “Must we now? Perhaps after dinner would be more appropriate.”
There were some grumbles of agreement to that statement.
“No time like the present.” Lady Mary rested her hands in her lap. “Perrin didn’t die from the knife to his chest.”
Katherine put down her spoon, no longer hungry. She knew. Katherine didn’t know how Lady Mary knew, but Katherine’s secret was out. She darted a glance at Mr. Taylor, but his face didn’t show the concern she knew hers did.
Lady Mary gazed around the table. “He was poisoned.”
Katherine gripped the edge of the table. “I didn’t intend…. Wait. What?” She felt Mr. Evans’s gaze fall on her, but she kept hers focused on Lady Mary. “What do you mean he was poisoned? How do you know?”
“I suspected he hadn’t been stabbed when I noticed the distinct lack of blood from the wound. Then a maid found the mouse. It was because of the spilled wine, that atrocious wormwood concoction Perrin liked.” Lady Mary sniffed. “A mouse died from drinking it. We tested it on another. Same result.”
A spoon clattered against china, and everyone looked down the table at Miss Walker. She pressed her hand to her throat. “Poisoned? That’s horrible. Is our food safe?”
Several people pushed their bowls away.
Lord Havenstone cocked his head. “The wine had a very strong flavor. Most poisons wouldn’t be detected in it. Smart.”
Katherine stared at the base of a candlestick in the middle of the table. Poison. He’d died from poison, not falling down the stairs.
She hadn’t killed him. She darted a look at Mr. Taylor. He hadn’t needed to desecrate Perrin’s body in an attempt to protect her.
And she didn’t have to marry to protect her secret.
She clutched her hands together under the table, a fine tremor running through her body.
Mr. Taylor tapped his fingers on the table. “Surely there is no way to know for certain that he was poisoned. He could have been killed in other ways.”
Katherine’s stomach turned to lead. Lady Mary was giving them a reprieve, one the secretary seemed intent to ignore. There could be only one reason. Mr. Taylor wanted to trap her in marriage just as surely as her father and Lord Perrin had intended.
“I’m certain the magistrate will confirm it.” Lady Mary nodded to the footman who took her bowl. “I’ve had the butler place the bottle of wormwood wine somewhere secure.”
Lord Havenstone raised his wineglass, paused, then put it back down. “I’m trying to remember last night. How did Perrin act before we found his body? Was he sweating? Slurring his words? There would be symptoms.”
“You seem to know a fair amount about poisons,” Mr. Evans said. Katherine couldn’t help but notice he was the only one who didn’t seem surprised by Lady Mary’s revelation. “Are poisons a particular hobby of yours?”
Havenstone chuckled. “Hardly, but as someone who owns a few mining operations, it behooves me to be familiar with noxious substances.”
“What poisons come from mines?” Lady Mary asked.
“Arsenic, primarily. As well as being mined for itself for use in paint and agriculture, it’s also a consequence of tin and copper distillation.” He scratched his jaw. “But really, many ores can be toxic if ingested in large enough amounts.”
Miss Walker stared at the plate of chicken a footman placed before her.
She prodded the meat with her fork. “Poisons are unfortunately all around us. A good garden can have foxglove, belladonna, and hemlock for medicinal uses. Even yew trees have been used to treat certain maladies. If one isn’t careful, many plants can kill you, as well. ”
Mr. Withers cut into his own chicken. “My goodness, we are surrounded by experts in poison.” He popped the bite into his mouth, his eyes closing in pleasure. “Delicious.”
Miss Walker stiffened. “Your sister and I had many long talks about the tonics and poultices we could make from our gardens. Lady Perrin was especially adept at herbalism. She made a lovely tonic for my father’s gout.”
Lady Mary sighed. “So our options are endless. We can leave the type of poison used for the magistrate to discover.”
The scents of red wine and garlic teased Katherine’s nose. She looked at her plate. “Mushrooms can be deadly, as well, can’t they?” She speared one rounded hood and chewed on her bottom lip. Nothing seemed safe.
“I think Perrin would have noticed chopped up bits of mushroom in his wine.” Lady Mary patted her ivory hair. “I believe the coq au vin is safe.” And putting word to action, she put a bite in her mouth, her eyes closing. “Heavenly.”
Everyone watched her, waiting to see if she collapsed.
Lady Mary arched an eyebrow. “Unless you all plan on starving, I suggest we go on thinking Perrin was the intended target and the killer has no reason to harm the rest of us. However, if you are too fearful, I am more than happy to be the sole recipient of Cook Clem’s efforts. This meal was worth the wait.”
After a couple of moments, the rest of the guests joined Lady Mary and Mr. Withers in partaking of the food.
Though if they’d been poisoned, no one would have known until it was too late.
After dinner, despite the entreaties of Miss Walker to remain in the sitting room for entertainment, everyone made their excuses and went to bed.
And hoped the servants wouldn’t find them all dead in their beds the next morning.