*
Nate closed hiseyes and brushed his lips against Bridget’s soft mouth. Their lips barely touched, yet he felt his body come alive.
“Mr. Squires!” someone cried. “Miss De Lacey!”
Nate jerked back in surprise and opened his eyes to see Bridget looked up at him wide-eyed. Then they dropped their joined hands and turned to see what the commotion was all about.
Harriet was running toward them. When she reached them, she was so out of breath that she could hardly talk.
“Take a few deep breaths.” Bridget put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “What’s the urgency? You shouldn’t tire yourself so.”
Harriet was a woman in her sixties who was more accustomed to doing hair and darning dresses than performing any physical labor. Now she breathed through her pinched nose, and Nate wondered if she was getting any air into her lungs. Her small nostrils flared, and her brown eyes watered as she tried to catch her breath. Eventually, the woman’s breathing returned to normal, and she was able to speak.
“Your aunt sent me to fetch you. She says you must come with me immediately. Don’t ask the reason, just follow me as though it were a normal day. We don’t want to alarm the guests, should any be about yet.”
“Itisa normal day,” Nate said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Why should we alarm the guests?”
“It’s best I don’t say anything now—Mrs. Marianne’s orders. She is waiting for you. That is all I am at liberty to say.”
Nate shared a concerned glance with Bridget. “Very well,” he said. “Take us to her.”
*
Bridget called forBijou, who raced after her as she and Nate followed Harriet inside the villa and up the stairs to the first floor. Most of the guests were still in their rooms, but their lady’s maids andvalets could be seen entering and or exiting their masters’ and mistresses’ rooms. Harriet stopped in front of Lady Matheson’s room.
“In here,” Harriet said and wrenched open the door. “Quick.”
Nate shared another puzzled look with Bridget before she stepped inside with Bijou at her heels. Still, he hesitated before following Bridget. It wasn’t every day that he entered a lady’s chamber without being invited inside by the lady herself. But when Harriet gave him a panicked look, he quickly stepped into the room.
He heard Harriet shut the door behind him as he looked around the bedchamber. It was in disarray. Drawers stood open, and articles of clothing lay on the floor. It looked as though someone had been searching for something. Bijou navigated the items on the floor, sniffing them with great interest. Aunt Marianne stood with a comforting arm around Lady Matheson’s crying lady’s maid, Louisa. And Bridget hovered near Lady Matheson’s canopy bed, her face as white as a winter lily.
“Bridget,” he said, not wanting to approach Lady Matheson’s bed, partly out of fear of what he’d see behind the canopy and partly out of an absurd sense of modesty. “What is it?”
Bridget turned to him. “She’s dead. Lady Matheson is dead.”
“What?” Nate rushed to Bridget’s side and looked at Lady Matheson, who lay stiff in her bed. Her lovely chestnut curls were fanned out across her pillow, and her amber eyes stared lifelessly at the paneled ceiling. But more noticeable were her lips, which had a blueish tinge to them. Nate scanned the surrounding area, and his eyes fell on a teacup next to her bed. He picked up the cup, which still contained some of the now-cold liquid. It looked considerably darker and thicker than normal tea.
“Did she take anything in her tea?” he turned and asked the distraught maid.
“Lots of sugar but no cream. And oftentimes at night, she mixed in a little laudanum to help her sleep. That’s why she liked a lot of sugar,to mask the bitterness.”
Just then, the chamber door opened, and Harriet ushered Dr. Elias and Magistrate Hunt inside. They went directly over to Lady Matheson’s bed, and Dr. Elias inspected the body, listening to her heart and feeling for any breath or sign of life. Nate thought that somewhat unnecessary, as the woman was already stiff.
“She’s been dead for several hours,” the doctor said. “I’d say she died last night.”
Lady Matheson’s maid gasped and began to sob anew.
“Calm yourself, dear,” Aunt Marianne said.
“There’s a cup of cold tea on the dresser,” Nate said. “Her maid says she may have mixed in a little laudanum to help her sleep.”
“Well, that’s common enough. A little laudanum powder wouldn’t harm her.” The doctor picked up the cup of tea and inspected the contents, shrugged and put the cup down again.
Magistrate Hunt turned to the sobbing maid and said, “Where does she keep it—her laudanum powder?”
Louisa pointed to the small pedestal table beside Lady Matheson’s bed. “In that snuff box. She doesn’t take snuff, but she thought the box pretty, she said. That’s why she used it for her laudanum powder,” the maid said, then buried her face in her hands.
Nate looked at the rectangular porcelain box, decorated with tiny painted bluebells and sparrows. It looked innocent enough.
