Page 103 of A Momentary Marriage

“I didn’t want to think it.” James heard the pain in his own voice and forced the emotion back down. “But you were in London at the right time to place it here. And you were at Grace Hill at the right time.”

“So were a number of others.”

“But who among them had the wits to do it?” James said with finality. “Archie? Patsy?”

Claude’s snort was answer enough to those possibilities. “Well, I didn’t have the wits to do it, either. I know nothing about mercury. How should I know you get ill just from breathing it? How would I even get it?”

“You play cards with the apothecary. He would know. He could get it.”

“I barely know the man; we play cards every once in a while. That’s scarcely reason enough for him to help me murder someone.” He ran his hands back through his hair, his eyes a little wild. “James, I swear to you. On anything you like. I’ll swear it on the life of my son. I did not do this.”

“Then who?” James’s voice was raw with desperation.

“I don’t know. Why does it have to be one of us? Why not someone who—well, I don’t know, but someone else. A number of people are in and out of this house during the Season, visiting Mother.”

“But not at Grace Hill, as well.”

“Why not? There are visitors there, too.”

“You think one of her beaus did it?” James asked sarcastically. “The poet, perhaps?”

“Netherly,” Claude said in disgust. “No, someone else, someone with reason to want you dead. I’m sure there must—” He stopped. “Wait. Netherly . . . his family. Netherly’s grandfather was in trade.”

“So?” James shrugged. “How could he benefit from—”

“No, no, listen to me. I haven’t the slightest notion why he would do it. But his family owns a factory. It makes gauges and things like that. Thermometers. They make thermometers.”

The room was suddenly as silent and still as the grave.

“Good God.” James’s voice was hushed. “I left her there. He’s with Laura.”

chapter 41

“I don’t see why we have to move to York,” Patricia whined. She had been reiterating this point for the past week. Now she had a new audience since Abigail and Mirabelle had come to call on them.

“What’s wrong with York?” Abigail asked.

“What isn’t?” Patricia responded. “It’s provincial and staid and . . .”

“You’ve lived there before?” Laura feigned innocence.

“No! Of course not. I’ve never been there at all.” Patricia flushed, apparently realizing that she had undermined her own argument, and added, “I don’t know anyone there.”

“It will give you an opportunity to make a new set of friends,” Mirabelle said.

“But I don’t want a new set of friends. I like the ones I have.”

“I am sure you will enjoy making more,” Adelaide told her brightly. After Adelaide’s initial bout of melancholy and tears over Claude’s absence, she was once again her sunny self. “One can never have too many friends. Isn’t that so?”

“There are tall ships and small ships, but the best ships are friendships,” Mr. Netherly said in a grand way.

Laura’s lips twitched at that statement, and she was careful not to glance at Abigail.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Netherly,” Tessa said flatly.

“York is so far away.” Patricia was not to be diverted from her grievance. “I think James is being mean.”

“It’s mean to offer you a house to live in?” Laura asked sharply.