Nathanial remained standing. “You seem very certain on that point.”
“Two reasons. First, as you will soon discover, I had no hand in this, and secondly, you know I have more experience in duelling than you. I have no interest in being injured by a man so preoccupied by his wife’s health, he forgets to delope.”
Nathanial finally drew out a chair. “You can’t think you would kill me.”
“Not kill. I have no intention of fleeing London again so soon.” He paused in the act of buttering his toast. “How’s the Duchess?”
“Dead,” Nathanial said bluntly, and watched Montague’s face pale. There was nothing victorious about his expression, which for a second appeared almost devastated.
“I am saddened to hear it,” Montague said with some effort.
“Are you? Perhaps you are.” He paused, watching the way Montague turned away as though hoping to conceal his face and the thoughts that lay behind. “You were assiduous in your attentions, after all.”
“It is natural for any married woman to have admirers, and singularly dull of them to cling to their husband’s coat.” Montague recovered some of his colour and took a bite of his toast. “She flirted with me delightfully, you know.”
Nathanial did know; he had watched plenty of it. Montague had almost always initiated, but his Theo had entered into it with good spirit. No doubt she enjoyed piquing him as much she did the flirtation itself.
“But let us be clear,” Montague said, placing down his knife. “You suspect me of having damaged her in some way.”
“She was poisoned. And you were last seen with her.”
“Poisoned?” Montague’s eyes took on an arrested look, as though he were privy to some secret Nathanial was not. “And you think that it was my hand?”
“Let’s not pretend you are an innocent man, or that your interest in her was unconnected to me.”
“On the contrary,” Montague said, though a thin smile acknowledged the hit. “I found her excessively charming.”
“I should know better than most how low you rate the charms of young, innocent females.”
“Ah, but she’s your wife, Norfolk. How innocent is she really?” He eyed the jam with apparent distaste. “But that is not the point at hand. You suspect me purely because I was there at the point of her collapse, but consider that for a moment. If I had contrived her death, I would have made myself scarce long before the poison took effect. I am not a fool. I know where suspicion must fall.”
“If not you, then who?”
“Not my problem,” Montague said, although Nathanial suspected he had his suspicions—if indeed he was not the culprit. His expression was bland, but he toyed with his knife, twirling it ceaselessly as though he intended to run Nathanial through with it.
Understanding finally hit Nathanial. Montague was not, as Nathanial had presumed, disinterested. He had developed an attachment.
“I don’t blame you for being taken with her,” Nathanial said after a moment. “She was remarkably pretty.”
“She was.”
“You are not alone in finding her charming.”
“As her husband, I’m certain you had more chance than I to experience her charms.”
Nathanial thought back to that night in Mrs Chichester’s gardens, the taste of her that he’d never quite eradicated from his mouth. “She’s exquisite.”
If Montague noticed his momentary slip into present tense, he showed no sign of it, merely pointing to the door. “I think you’ve said all you have to say on the matter, and I have no more hospitality to offer.”
Nathanial rose and strode to the door, but paused before he passed through. “There’s one more thing.” He paused, waiting for Montague to glance up. He wanted to see the man’s face when he delivered this last piece of news. “I lied before. Theo is alive and recovering. But I warn you—if I suspect you had a hand in this, or any other attempt on her life, you will regret it.”
The colour rushed back into Montague’s cheeks, and he was silent for a few seconds before giving a languid smile that seemed marginally strained. “You must learn to give better threats, Norfolk. You have no idea of what I might regret.”
“I have an idea of what you value,” Nathanial said, earning himself a swift, unsettled look. He rewarded it with a cold smile. “It was a mistake to care for her, Radcliffe.”
Montague’s black brows drew together, but Nathanial left the room before he could say anything further.
It took a further two weeks for Theo to recover enough to contemplate travelling. The Season had not yet ended, but she and Nathanial had agreed that a sojourn from Town was the bestpolicy, and they had settled on Lord Stapleton’s invitation as an excuse. That way they could remove from London without raising suspicion.
