“Hence the importance of looking for Trojan horses,” she reminded him. “Reddington is always up to something. People try to stay on his good side to climb up the social rungs, but he’s slippery as a greased grape.”
Stephen started to inquire whether she’d actually ever greased a grape, then decided he was better off not knowing. “Why does anyone put up with him?”
“Because heispowerful. A viscount’s heir is an excellent marriage prospect for a woman looking to secure her future. And for others in his influence, he can grant entrée into social circles, memberships to gentlemen’s clubs, invitations to exclusive investment schemes…”
Stephen tilted his head. “Much of that is only attainable for those with money.”
She nodded. “Reddington gives men of the lower classes the appearance of status and power. Those who can’t afford an officer’s conscription in the army—or whose families cannot afford lost income due to a dead family member—get to wear officer’s uniforms in faux battles as a lark, without any of the risk. For many, being a known associate of a future viscount is currency enough to raise their own stations, whatever they might be.”
Stephen was grateful not to need someone like Reddington to establish his worth.
Elizabeth straightened in disgust. “Very well, you were right. It appears Reddington has missed this opportunity to cause mayhem. Have fun with your bits and bobs.”
“I will, thank you.”
She tossed the lids back onto the crates. “May I ask what the laudanum is for?”
Stephen frowned. “The what?”
“The bottle of laudanum. As far as murder weapons go, a common sleeping draught seems a little underwhelming. Your style leans more toward the unexpected and showy.”
He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
She returned to the crates and lifted one of the wooden lids she’d dislodged. “This laudanum. You’re the one who ordered it.”
“I did no such thing.” He joined her side and gazed at the contents of the crate. “That’s a wine bottle.”
“An unmarked wine bottle. Containing laudanum.”
“It sure looks like wine. What makes you think it isn’t?”
“When you’ve ingested as much laudanum in your life as I have… Look carefully. Red wine is, well, red. This liquid is more of a brown.”
“It could be the bottle.”
“It’s not the bottle. Measure the viscosity.” She tilted the bottom ofthe container. “Not the right consistency at all, is it? And if you sniff the cork…” She placed the stopper just beneath his nose.
Stephen did not sniff the cork. He dropped his voice to a whisper so that the footmen wouldn’t overhear. “Did you just say ‘measure the viscosity’? I have never heard a phrase more erotic. Prepare to lose your virginity.”
“I don’t have any. Pay attention.” She tapped the unopened bottle against his chest. “If you didn’t order a liter of laudanum… Who sent it?”
They looked at the crate, looked at each other, then said at the same time, “Reddington.”
“I told you not to accept deliveries willy-nilly!” Elizabeth scolded Stephen. “See what can happen?”
He plucked the bottle from her hands and dropped it back inside the crate. “Reddington was expecting me to serve us a tall glass of poison tonight at dinner?”
“Or just pour a finger or two for yourself.”
“And then what was his plan? To sneak in and steal the deed to the castle?” Perhapsthatwas why Reddington’s men had been crawling around outside the castle.
“It wouldn’t work,” she agreed. “He can’t get inside, and even if he could, he has no better idea where to find the deed than we do.”
“Not to mention the entire household of servants would still be awake, even if I were knocked unconscious.”
“Or dead,” clarified Elizabeth. “Maybe the trick would have worked, even if Reddington couldn’t breach the castle. Laudanum is fatal in high doses, and your cousin has no other heirs to fight Reddington’s claims of ownership.”
“Everyone knows my cousin is a drunk,” Stephen agreed. “The sort who wouldn’t remember if he’d ordered any wine or not, much less wonder why the bottle was missing a label.”
