Between this and the arrow through his top hat, Stephen could no longer deny Reddington’s threat to take the castle by force.
“My cousin should be back soon,” said Stephen. “Maybe Densmore knows what the heat and fire references his mother left behind mean. Perhaps he can solve the puzzle.”
“Will he be back in time to try?” Elizabeth said doubtfully. “It doesn’t look like Reddington intends to wait patiently. At least he didn’t poison the well and kill us all. Yet.”
“He’s notthatevil,” Stephen said. “Or if he is, he’s at least intelligent enough not to commit a mass murder easily traced back to him. A sleeping-draught overdose could be explained away as a tragic accident.”
“Humph. I’ll show him a tragic accident.” Elizabeth snatched the bottle up from the crate and pulled the stopper free.
Stephen grappled for it. “What the devil are you doing?”
“Dumping this into a chamber pot before it finds its way into the stomach of an innocent bystander.”
“No chamber pots in the dungeon. But there are drainage troughs running through every cell.”
“Disgusting,” Elizabeth muttered. “And a perfect ending to Reddington’s assassination attempt.”
As she emerged from the closest cell, one of the servants divested her of the empty bottle. The other footmen collected the rest of the crates to carry them up to the Great Hall with Stephen’s other tinkering supplies.
When they weren’t looking, Stephen kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for saving me from certain doom.”
She shook her finger at him. “Check your crates every time, even when I’m not here to be your bodyguard.”
“I’ll build a crate-checking device that tests all incoming deliveries for poison, explosives, and concealed assassins,” he promised.
She bit her lip. “As much as I appreciate the absolute anarchy of your contraptions, have you ever considered inventing something thatotherpeople might find useful?”
“I frequently do just that,” he said as he led her up the stairs, behind the footmen. “Last year, I perfected a mechanical poultry feeder. The summer before, an all-weather irrigation device. The year before that, a rolling hinge.”
Elizabeth stared at him. “A what now?”
“I can show you my sketches and the sales logs. Making absurdly overcomplicated devices is merely my favorite pastime to fill the spaces between the paying projects.” He offered her his arm. “Just a little quirk of mine to stave off boredom.”
They exited the dungeon and made their way up the stairs.
“What did you do with the irrigator and the poultry feeder? Do you have a store?”
“No. For boring things, I license the patents.”
“But not to your overcomplicated devices?”
He wished he could. “For some reason, my quotidian inventions appear to have more commercial appeal than my large-scale complex devices. I cannot understand it. Who amongst us couldn’t use a nice murder room?”
“I want one,” Elizabeth said fervently. “In the unlikely event that I were ever to move from home, I would be first in line to install multiple murder rooms in my humble cottage.”
“If only the world were made up of practical people like you.”
She beamed. “I could kiss you. But I shan’t, don’t worry. You voiced your disinclination to pursue physical pleasures at this time, and I shall respect your wishes.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were the plundering type.”
“Willing plunder is the only plunder I undertake. If the moodshould strike you for a consensual co-ravishing, you know where to find me. In the meantime, I’ve a castle to search.”
He paused outside the corridor leading to the Great Hall. “You don’t need my help?”
“Your abdominal muscles are a constant distraction.”
“They’re hidden beneath three layers of fabric.”
