“Weak and tired,” she admitted. “The physician thinks I need to purge my stomach.”
Cormac’s aunt rolled her eyes. “I’m not fond of Dr. Ó Neill. He thinks the cure for everything is vomiting.” She came closer and said, “I’ve made you some ginger tea. It should help settle your stomach for now.”
But Josephine stepped in front of the footman and ordered him to put down the tea service. “Not now. Let her rest.”
“She’ll rest easier with the ginger,” Nuala argued. “And don’t be giving her that purgative. It’s the last thing she needs.”
Although Emma was grateful for Nuala’s offer of tea, she was startled by the dowager’s sudden shift in mood. She’d become defensive, which startled her.
“You’ve made many teas for Cormac, haven’t you?” Josephine said. “I think you even sent some to England, did you not?”
“Well, of course,” Nuala said. “I wanted to ease his sickness. With the right blend of tea and herbs, it would help him.”
“You made those teas for my husband and Finn, too, didn’t you?” Josephine’s tone turned darker, and Emma suddenly realized what she was implying.
Dear God. She didn’t want to believe such a thing. Nuala had been nothing but kind. Was it possible that she had used her knowledge of herbal teas to harm all of them? The thought didn’t seem plausible.
Nuala stood from her chair and inhaled sharply, as if horrified. “Josie, you can’t think that I’m the cause of their illness. I would never harm anyone! I was trying to stop them from getting sicker.”
“Cormac is downstairs questioning Lorcan and Moreen. I wonder what he’ll learn from them?” Her voice turned dangerous. “Perhaps that you’ve always been ambitious.” A hard tone lined her words. “Perhaps Lorcan was my husband’s bastard son because Orlan was incapable of fathering a child.”
“You’re wrong, Josie.” Nuala’s voice held the weight of grief with a trace of anger. “Aye, Brandan flirted with me, but I never returned his attentions. Nor did Ievershare his bed.” Without a word, she turned her back and started to leave.
“Seize her,” Josephine ordered the footman. “I want her locked away until I have my answers.”
Emma was reeling from what she’d learned. But more than that, she found it difficult to believe that Nuala meant any harm.
“Josie, you’re wrong,” Nuala said softly. “I swear to you, Lorcan was Orlan’s son. And I never,neverwanted anyone to die.”
“Take her to her room,” Josephine ordered the footman. “And she is not to leave Dunmeath under any circumstances.”
“I did nothing wrong,” Nuala said quietly. But she went with the footman without argument.
After she was gone, Emma struggled to sit up. It felt as if there had been a terrible mistake.
“Lady Dunmeath—”
“Shh.” Josephine bade her to sit back. “It’s going to be all right. Nuala can’t hurt you, or anyone else anymore.” But despite her words of reassurance, Emma could hear the heavy emotions in her voice.
“I need to see Cormac,” Emma insisted. “Please.”
“I will send him to you soon. After he’s finished speaking with Lorcan and Moreen.” Josephine gave a heavy sigh. “I never wanted to believe my own sister could do such a thing.”
“Are you certain that she did?” Emma ventured.
The dowager shrugged. “I don’t know. But... it’s possible. Even if I’m wrong about her and Brandan, she might have been resentful of Finn and Cormac for taking what she believed should have been Lorcan’s birthright. I can’t be sure.”
The dowager walked to the door and said, “Rest now. I’ll bring Cormac to you after he’s spoken with them. We’ll leave for the cottage in the morning.” Just as she was leaving, she picked up the pot of tea and took it with her.
Emma took a few deep breaths, trying to gather what was left of her strength. Although the pieces did fit, she couldn’t quite believe that Nuala would do something like this. The woman had been kind and caring, doing whatever she could to help.
But what if Moreen had added something to Nuala’s teas? What ifshehad been the one to cause their suffering? To Emma, that made far more sense.
And lying in this bed was accomplishing nothing at all, except heightening her worries.
Emma pulled back the coverlet and slid her feet off the bed. Though she was exhausted and weak, she managed to stand and reach for her dressing gown. She took a few faltering steps and had nearly reached the door when it swung open, and she saw Nora and Maire.
“Lady Dunmeath,” Maire said, rushing toward her. “You must go back to bed.”
