Chapter 29 #2
Before Christopher could react, the door to the room was flung open as well, and Dr. Ludley rushed in, his hands raised as if to pummel his quarry.
Christopher froze.
“What is this?” he snarled. “What are you playing at?”
“We know what is in the tea,” Cassandra shouted. “We know that you have been poisoning the duke. We know that the tea has arsenic in it!”
“Arsenic?” Christopher sputtered, but there was fear in his eyes. He backed up, his eyes wide. “I know not of what you speak! But I demand that you take back your vile accusation!”
“We have tested the residue in the draughts you have given the duke,” Dr. Ludley said. “You are caught, Lord Christopher. And if you come quietly, then perhaps things will not end so badly for you.”
“You do not speak to me like that,” Christopher spat. “You are nothing! Merely a country doctor! I am the brother of a duke. The next Duke of Calder!”
“You will never be the Duke of Calder,” Ewan said.
His voice was quiet, but carrying, and everyone turned to look at him, including Christopher.
Ewan met his gaze steadily, despite the emotion pounding through him like a pulse.
“You have betrayed me for the last time, Christopher. I did not think you capable of it. But now I see you for who you truly are, and I will never allow you near my family or my dukedom ever again.”
Christopher’s lips parted, and a flush crept up his neck.
He looked as if he wanted to speak, but could not, as if words choked him.
The silence that filled the room was confession enough for Ewan.
If his brother were innocent, he would be confused.
He would be denying everything. But Christopher was silent only. Silent and ashamed.
And then he lunged.
His fingers reached for the cup that Ewan was still holding, undoubtedly to grab it from his hands and throw it away, to hide the evidence, but Dr. Ludley was too fast. He lunged forward as well, grabbing Christopher by the back of his cravat and hauling him backwards.
The two of them fell over, Dr. Ludley hitting his head hard on the wall.
At the same moment, Cassandra rushed forward, taking the cup gently from Ewan’s hand and stepping back, away from the bed and Christopher. The commotion must also have alerted Alaric, because Ewan heard footsteps rushing toward them down the hall.
There were several moments of confusion when Ewan wasn’t sure if his brother was subdued.
Then he saw Dr. Ludley slumped against the wall, his glasses askew, and Christopher rising to his feet, shaken but not defeated.
Cassandra was on the other side of the bed.
She couldn’t help; she was holding the arsenic-laced potion, and if she moved too quickly, she would spill it, destroying all evidence. Alaric was still out in the hallway.
Which meant Christopher had free reign.
And he did not waste it.
Lurching forward, he grabbed a letter opener off of the desk and dived at Ewan.
Ewan didn’t have a chance to even cry out before the letter opener was pressed against his throat.
The metal bit into his skin, and he felt himself gasp.
Then all the air left his lungs. He felt winded, dizzy.
He couldn’t think straight. The letter opener pressed deeper, and he felt the skin start to break.
“No!” he heard someone shout. Alaric.
He looked up, his eyes swimming, and saw him standing in the doorway. Cassandra still stood on the other side of the bed, her hand outstretched, as if to reach him.
“Christopher, do not!” she screamed, her voice breaking with tears. “Do not do it!”
Everyone else was still.
“And why should I not? Christopher howled. His face was very red, and spit flew from his mouth when he spoke. He looked positively mad. “I was cheated out of everything that was mine! My wife! My fortune! Everything! And all because I had debtors threatening my life!”
“The Fergusons…” Cassandra whispered, and Christopher bared his teeth at her.
“I had to fake my death to escape them!” he cried.
“What do you mean?” Alaric demanded. “You faked a shipwreck?”
Christopher scoffed. “It was not hard. Coin in the hands of the harbormaster and some of the sailors to confirm the story. My brother is gullible, he would believe everything. And once I was free of the Fergusons, I could return here and marry Cassandra, use her dowry to start again on the continent.”
Cassandra’s eyes were wide with horror.
“I had to get away!” Christopher cried. “I could not let the Fergusons find me. And then I return to find that my wife has been stolen from me? By the brother who has always pretended to love me? Who would tolerate me and try to convince me it was actually devotion?” Christopher made a disgusted noise.
“No, I know the truth, Ewan. I know how you have hated me, how you have been jealous of me, how you have always wished to be me, and when you could not, how you spurned me and made me feel as if I was the black sheep of the family, the menace. When all along, you would have given anything to have my charisma. To have my charm.”
His eyes were boring into Ewan’s now, so full of hatred that they appeared almost black.
“To have the love of the woman who loved me. Margaret.”
Ewan looked back up into his brother’s eyes. He did not blink. He did not look away. And he knew that what Chrisopher saw was the opposite of what he saw.
Christopher saw love in his eyes.
Despite everything.
“Christopher,” he murmured. And he spoke not in the voice of the duke, but the voice of the man who had raised his brother, who had shown Christopher nothing but love over all the years they had spent together, even in the hardest moments, even when Margaret was listing to him the reasons she would never love him, that Christopher would forever have her heart.
“Christopher,” he said again. “You can kill me now. But it will not erase my love for you. You are my brother. And I will always love you. I forgive you.”
Christopher blinked. His face went slack. He stared down at Ewan, his expression entirely neutral.
And then he dropped the blade.
A moment later, the door burst open again, and a man in a constabulary uniform ran inside. Behind him, Ewan could see Lady Pembury holding a handkerchief to her forehead, clearly exhausted from the quick dash she had made into the village to call the constable.
“Christopher Dunmore,” the constable said, seizing him by the arms and pushing him roughly against the wall. “You are under arrest for the attempted murder of the Duke of Calder.”
It was over, and as Ewan watched the constable march his brother out of the room, he was not sure if it was relief he felt, or grief.