Stephen took in this new information and found it rather helpful. He would implement a few new rules at Nottinghouse. Deep in contemplation, he rose somewhat absentmindedly and then reached out to shake Nigel’s hand once again. “I appreciate your assistance. If I discover anything further, I’ll send word immediately. I am glad to know that Lady Kensington’s father hasn’t completely abandoned her to my cousin’s protection.” At these words, he made a wry grimace and then took his leave.
Was it possible that Flavion was somehow involved in this? Good God, he hoped not. He could handle having a cousin who was a foolish, no-good womanizing fortune hunter, but he could not find himself nearly as accepting of him if he was a murderer.
After checking in with several of the gentleman’s clubs and even venturing over to Tattersalls, Stephen was unable to locate his cousin. He did, however, stumble across Marcus, who was looking over a matched set of bays. Running his hand along one of the horse’s forelocks, Stephen told Marcus about the adder as well as his discussion with Niles Waverly.
“I think you were right in tracking down this Waverly fellow,” Marcus said grimly. “This type of mischief can turn up deadly if allowed to continue.”
Turning away from the corral, the two men made their way toward the exit.
“Are you going to put in a bid for them?” Stephen asked with a glance indicating the matched pair. “They aren’t very large but look like they might have considerable speed.” Marcus rarely gambled or drank heavily. But when it came to racing across the countryside in one of his more sporting vehicles, he held nothing back.
Marcus shrugged. “I’ll have to take them out. It’s impossible to tell if they’re a good match without watching them work together.” Frowning slightly, he changed the subject. “You were unable to locate your cousin, then? Because in my objective opinion, he ought to be your first suspect.”
Stephen was shaking his head. He did not believe Flavion would do something so sinister as to purposely harm his wife.
“He has all the motive in the world,” Marcus persisted. “Now that he’s in possession of Lady Kensington’s dowry, he has no further need of her. Past experience has shown me that if he’s truly in love with this Miss Cunnington, and if Miss Cunnington is expressing impatience, he’s very likely being pressured into appeasing his lady.”
Stephen had, in fact, considered all of this. He still did not believe that Flavion could be dangerous to Cecily.
But if he was.
By God, if it had been Flavion…
The edge of Stephen’s vision turned red at the thought.
“I’m heading back to Nottinghouse presently. Will you join me? Hopefully, Flavion’s returned, and we can question him. After that, you can tell me if you hold the same opinion.”
“Very well.” Marcus gave Stephen a sidelong glance before adding, “But beware. You likely will not appreciate my estimation even then.”
As the two men rode back toward Nottinghouse in Marcus’ carriage, Stephen was impatient to handle all of these matters and put them to rest. Too much real work awaited him. Not only throughout the earldom’s various different properties, but his own company as well. One of his ship captains had given him notice and needed replacing, new distributers required some wooing, not to mention a slew of various other general housekeeping matters that required his attention. His top priority right now was to put an end to these dangerous occurrences plaguing Cecily… Lady Kensington.
When he returned today, he intended to sit down with both the housekeeper and Mr. Sherman in an attempt to flush out any additional information. People dressed as beggars didn’t simply enter aristocratic houses unnoticed.Somebodyhad to have seen something.
He pulled the door open purposefully with Marcus behind him, but before he could even remove his hat, he saw that both Sally, Cecily’s maid, and Sherman were anxiously discussing something in a manner that indicated uncertainty and a bit of panic.
It was Sally who broke away and rushed toward him imploringly. “Mr. Nottingham, my lord,” she said, barely glancing at Marcus. “Lady Kensington is not well. I have sent for the doctor, but she is in such pain and so uncomfortable that I can hardly bear to look at the poor thing.”
Before she could say another word, Stephen was running up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and rushing toward her suite.
After hastening throughCecily’s sitting room and bursting into her bedchamber, Stephen was shocked by the sight that met him. She had seemed perfectly fine early this morning. What in God’s name had happened? Clutching the bed post with one hand, she was leaning over her bed and seemed to be having difficulty breathing. What he could see of her face was pale and pinched. Reaching her side, he pushed her hair out of the way and touched her forehead with his hand.
Her skin was cold and clammy. Some escaped tendrils of hair stuck to her forehead where tiny beads of perspiration had appeared. His first thought was that she’d been poisoned again… this time, successfully.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? When did you start feeling ill?”
She opened her eyes and gazed up at him pathetically. A few tears had escaped onto her lashes. “I didn’t feel very well this morning but thought it would pass.” She paused and took a few shallow breaths. “I was… going to see Madam Chantal, but… it was fortunate… Salaam was with me. He and Chadwick… got me home quickly when… he realized I was not well.” She’d had to pause every couple of words in order to take in a breath. Her face was tense and drawn as she struggled to breathe deeply.
Sensing her fear, Stephen moved his hand down to her back and massaged her gently in a circular motion.
“And to top it all off,” she added, holding up her free hand, “I injured… my hand at some point… last night. I think … when I was… beating up the snake.”
Her hand was puffy and swollen. “Let me see it, Cecily.” Examining it gingerly, he quite quickly found little marks that indicated a bite. They looked so innocuous, but he was nearly one-hundred-percent certain that the bite was the cause of Cecily’s illness. “You were bitten by the snake, love. Didn’t you feel it? It is the venom that’s making you so ill.”
“I’ve never been bitten… by a snake before. How… can one little bite… make me feel so ill?” She was pale, and the skin around her lips had a bluish tint to it.
“Let me see in your mouth, sweetheart. Does your tongue feel swollen?”
She stuck her tongue out and shook her head. “No, but my lips are numb… They feel fuzzy.”
