“I’ll ask the questions, boy. If you interrupt me again, I’ll have you removed and whipped.”
No one had called him boy even when he was a lad, but he’d long since learned not to respond to a jibe with unthinking anger. “I am a member of her ladyship’s household, and you have no authority to have me removed from the room much less whipped. Now I ask again, how do you know to ask such questions?”
“It’s a logical question, boy. Who gave the poison—”
“No, the logical question is who put the poison in the tea, and I can tell you that. It was Mr. Geoffrey Hough, who is anxious to inherit before his time.”
The man’s eyes narrowed as he lifted his chin, triumph in his gaze. “As it happens, this isn’t the first time I’ve been asked to investigate her ladyship. Earlier this evening, Mr. Hough told me of his concern for his father. Said that he thought her ladyship might do something dire to his father. Likely poison, he said, as she is the one who controls his food, all the way down to the tea he drinks each night.”
Diana gasped. “And why would I kill my husband?”
“Mayhap, you got tired of caring for him. That’s why you went to the party, is it not? To escape endless days and nights in the sickroom? Seems to me a pretty young girl like you would find it hard to care for a sick old man.”
“Seems to me that the murderer spoke with you to throw suspicion elsewhere,” Lucas returned.
“And who are you to question my investigation, boy? You’re pretty hot to defend the lady. Mayhap you were the one who got her the poison, eh? Are you her lover?”
“Don’t be insulting,” Diana snapped, her tone as imperious as a queen.
Unfortunately, the constable was a man who enjoyed his authority over his purpose. He liked intimidating people, and if he could hand a story of a murderous wife and her lover to the papers, then that would only increase his power. He wouldn’t be surprised if Geoffrey had already offered the man a generous gift for his help. The truth wouldn’t matter. Attention, advancement, or money were his only motivators, and likely Geoffrey had sewn those up.
Which meant Diana’s only hope of not being caught up in a nightmare was to show the constable that she had powerful friends on her side. And pursuing Geoffrey’s version of the story would damage the constable.
There was no choice now. Elliott wasn’t here, and Lucas would not subject Diana to one more minute of this obnoxious man while undefended. So Lucas took a breath and said the one thing that he’d been denying for years.
“Careful, constable. I am Captain Lucas Crosse, Lord Chellam, and the son of the Earl of Wolvesmead. Lady Dunnamore’s brother, you know him as Lord Byrn, asked that I position myself here because of Mr. Hough’s threats to her person. He’s most anxious to get his inheritance, and obviously, he’s finally managed to do it.”
It was a significant moment for Lucas. He’d resisted telling his identity to everyone, including his family. That he had to reveal himself now, to this toad, made his throat tighten with disgust. And if there was any reward for what he’d just done, it was the way Diana turned to him, her mouth parted in shock, and her eyes wide with sympathy. She knew what revealing himself this way had cost him. But she was the only one who seemed to understand.
Diana’s servants seemed to nod as if they had expected something like that. His men already knew. And the constable—the very person he’d meant to impress—seemed completely unaffected.
“All the more reason to suspect you are her lover and a partner in her crimes.”
Geoffrey must have offered the man a great deal of money. With a grimace of disgust, Lucas looked at Simpson. “I believe it’s time to summon her ladyship’s solicitor.” The butler nodded and turned to speak with a footman while Lucas turned to Diana. “Perhaps you should go upstairs and rest. At least until Elliott arrives. He should be here soon.”
Diana arched a brow at him. And though her blue eyes were filled with pain, she shook her head. “I will remain here and face my accuser, even in the guise of a constable more interested in courting favor than in finding the truth.”
It was well said, but it had little positive effect. The constable sputtered with outrage, and he was then cemented in his opposition. Lucas had to stop himself from punching the man. He couldn’t even step in front of Diana to block her from his attacks. She wouldn’t tolerate the insult to her authority, and it would do no good in any event. So he stood by her side and counted the seconds until help could arrive.
It came in the form of Elliott and his wife. Amber went straight to Diana, taking her hands and soothing her as only women can. Elliott checked that his sister was safe, then turned to him. Lucas responded without even needing the question.
“Someone placed arsenic in his lordship’s special tea.”
“Geoffrey, obviously,” Elliott said. “But how?”
“If you can keep Diana safe, I will investigate,” Lucas said. “Someone will tell the truth, and then the whole thing will unravel.”
Elliott nodded, his expression troubled. “So, the man takes one last go at Diana in Vauxhall, then poisons his father’s tea before making a big show of leaving.”
Ignoring the constable’s attempts to insert himself into the conversation, Lucas turned to Simpson, who was listening with a deep frown on his face. “Who could have done it?”
The butler shook his head. “Anyone, my lord. The tea wasn’t kept under lock and key. We all knew it was for Lord Dunnamore.”
Diana spoke up. “I drank the tea with him. Sometimes.” Then her eyes widened. “But it didn’t agree with my stomach—”
“And so you stopped,” Lucas finished for her.
Diana pressed a hand to her mouth in shock. “You think Geoffrey has been poisoning the tea all along?”
