The Second Shot (The Dueling Pistols) (29 page)

She looked down at the carpet and then back up at him. "I suppose if you were to come live with us at my home, an affair would be inevitable."

"I don't think so, Felicity. It wouldn't be the wisest course. It certainly wasn't the last time."

"What?"

He stood. "An affair with you would be smashing, a great do, but we should have the wedding first and the affair afterwards.

"By the bye, do you have any objection to Bedford as a suitor to your niece?"

Felicity looked stunned, but she followed the change in direction of the conversation. "She should be introduced to society before she makes a decision."

"I gather his breeding is good enough, but he has no prospects."

Felicity winced. "I don't think she should fix her affections this early. Although she shan't be able to make a great match, I should want her to be comfortable." She looked a bit ill at ease. "I believe Mr. Bedford is an agreeable sort, and I like him, but if he has no prospects, then I should say no to his suit."

"I'll let him know." Tony bowed. "They may be fixing each other's affections prematurely."

"I shall speak with her, too."

"Now, see how well we work together." He tossed her a half smile and moved to the door.

Felicity stared at Tony's broad shoulders as he left the room. What had just happened? Beyond their casual agreement to look after Diana's best interests, he had withdrawn his demand for an affair.

Had she lost Tony's respect with the only thing that had earned her Layton's respect? Did he resent her business acumen? Much
had
changed in six years.

Never once in the conversation had the word
love
cropped up. When he heard her request for a pretend engagement, he'd been adamant. He had not wanted to marry her, only to begin an affair.

Now, since he had realized Charles was his son, he wanted marriage so he could be close to the boy. It had nothing to do with wanting to marry
her.
Now he didn't even want an affair?

She turned and stared out the window at the cold night. Leaning forward, she jumped when her overheated flesh encountered the cold panes of glass. He had brought her to heaven the other night, and now he didn't want to bother. She looked at the desk. Was it because he was left unsatisfied? Or did he truly no longer want her?

She stared up at the distant stars. "No affair, Felicity," she spoke to the silent night. "It's what you wanted."

But did she want marriage?

She had married once for her son's sake. They had been the worst years of her life. Would it—could it—be different with Tony? Could a man like him consider her feelings and thoughts and not try to control everything in their lives, in her life? Even in these more enlightened days, a man was king of the castle. The balance of power went, unchallenged, to him. How could she keep control of the business, let alone her person?

A man had a right to beat his wife as long as he used nothing broader than his thumb, and a woman had no recourse. No, Tony was right. She didn't trust him. She trusted no man. Because if you had asked her about Layton's character when she married him, she never would have thought he would raise a hand to her, let alone a switch.

How could she expect happiness if he did not love her? Better never to give any man the right to control her. She would infinitely prefer an affair.

Chapter Eighteen

Dressed in evening clothes, Tony, Bedford, and Randy drove in Randy's carriage to pick up the Lungren ladies for Felicity's dinner.

"Are we any closer to figuring out who the murderer is?" asked Bedford.

"Randy, what does your man say of Mrs. Lungren? Was she out of Bedlam on the night Will was shot at?"

Randy shook his head. "He's never seen her out at night. Her keeper swears that she is locked in after dark, so she can't wander off. In the days when she is out, she mostly just buys things, like tea and sugar and occasionally some laudanum and foxglove. Which her keeper says she uses herself."

"Perhaps it is time we crossed her off our list," said Tony.

"I think it is Rosalyn, the eldest sister," said Randy.

"No, I don't think it could be she. She is just not cool-headed enough," said Bedford.

"What about Lord Carlton?" Tony didn't know what to think. His head was spinning with the hastily acquired knowledge different poisons and which ones could mimic the effects of a wasting disease.

"You said yourself that poison is a woman's weapon of choice," said Randy.

"Perhaps it is all the sisters together, then," suggested Bedford.

"Not a chance of it," swore Randy. "Miss Carolyn is most distressed by all the happenings in the past few years. Nothing more would please her than to move far, far away from here. She cannot stand to watch any more of her siblings die."

Tony rubbed his head. "Who haven't we talked with that we should have?"

"We've talked to the physician who treated the men. He attributed the unexpected deaths to cancers, not poison. Some families are much afflicted with this dread disorder, he said. We've talked to the undertaker. We've talked to Mrs. Lungren. We've talked to the servants. Who else is there?"

"Mayhap we need to talk to them all again if we had not asked the right questions before," offered Bedford.

"Every time we ask new questions, we suspect new people," muttered Randy. "Now Tony has added Miss Jocelyn to our list of possible candidates, as if one sister weren't enough."

"We can't rule her out," said Bedford.

"Mayhap we should all do our damnedest to enjoy the evening, for Felicity's sake."

"That's all well and good for you to say. You aren't the next intended victim," objected Bedford.

"We may very well be bringing the murderer into Mrs. Merriwether's house." Randy leaned back against the squabs of his carriage.

"Yes, but this is someone who behaves covertly. He or she doesn't want to be caught. A dinner party isn't a likely place for an attempt on someone's life," Tony reasoned.

"Except that it won't be expected, and that might make it a perfect opportunity." Bedford hit his fist against his leg. "Damnation, I wish we could figure out who did this."

"Then we shall make a pact to never leave you alone. Not even for a minute. One or the other of us shall remain by your side throughout the evening."

"Oh, I say, no need to go so far," objected Bedford. "I—"

"Don't need to be alone with Miss Fielding. Felicity says your suit would not be acceptable."

"Good grief, did I ask you to ask her?"

"No, but I was looking after Felicity's interests, not yours."

"A fine friend you are."

Tony clapped Bedford on the shoulder. "Sorry, chap. Her interests come before yours. Not that I am not on your side."

Bedford sulked.

"Think of her as the general, and yourself as a captain. We're all in the same army. And since you are dependent upon her hospitality, you should have a higher consideration for Felicity's wishes."

"You shouldn't call her by her given name if you don't mean to tell the world of your past with her."

Tony felt the stab in the vicinity of his breastbone. "I can't stomach calling her by another man's name."

Bedford looked contrite.

"Shall we get back to the matter at hand, catching the murderess before she catches Bedford?" asked Randy.

"I want to know what was growing in that garden," said Tony. Mayhap if he knew what plants the sisters had replaced the flowers with, he could match it to something in his poison book.

The discussion continued for the length of the drive to the Lungren house, and they were no nearer solving the crime, or crimes, than before.

* * *

Felicity checked the name cards on the table and had to switch half a dozen that Diana had done. The girl didn't pay any attention to ranking. She wouldn't do well in society if she didn't get precedence right.

"I'm sorry. I did them wrong, didn't I?" asked Diana in a small voice.

"Never mind that. You should be upstairs getting ready."

"Yes, ma'am." Diana turned toward the door.

"Oh, and Diana..."

Diana stopped her back to Felicity. "Yes?"

"Don't encourage Mr. Bedford."

Diana turned and looked at her. "Why not?"

Felicity supposed it might be nerves, but her first inclination was to say,
because I told you so.
She managed to swallow back those pettish words and said, "You should see what other suitors you might have. Go slowly. You have a whole season before you to decide whom to marry."

"But I like Mr. Bedford." Diana twisted her hands in front of her. She wasn't wearing her gloves again.

"I've already passed the word on to him. Now, go get ready for your dinner party."

Diana shot her a dark glare that gave Felicity pause. "It's
your
dinner party."

For
Diana's
benefit. Felicity stared at the door that had closed behind her niece. She sank down onto one of the forty-four chairs squeezed around the dining room table meant to seat forty. If it were up to Felicity, she never would have left home. She'd just retreat into her business work and never venture back into the confusing world of marriage, men, and society.

She could always manage to be stronger, more resolute, when she did it in writing. And she had an awful feeling—premonition, really—that something was about to go dreadfully wrong this evening.

* * *

William grimaced as they arrived at the Lungren house at dusk. He was irritated that Mrs. Merriwether considered him no better than a fortune hunter and not good enough for her precious niece. That he was a fortune hunter in truth only made him angrier. And damn, he wished he had known if Miss Fielding's name was worth adding to his notes on wealthy potential brides, before he'd let Sheridan know that he needed to marry an heiress.

Since he wasn't likely to get to the bottom of the matter with Mrs. Merriwether, he'd just have to see if Miss Fielding knew what she was worth. Then there was always Gretna Green or special license.

They entered to find the Lungren household in an uproar. The men were shown into the drawing room just as a bent-over Miss Lungren said, "I don't think I feel well enough to go."

"You have to," insisted Miss Jocelyn. She pulled on evening gloves and reached for a wrap that lay across a chair. "And look, the gentlemen are here to escort us."

"I can't. I really can't," whispered Rosalyn.

Miss Carolyn looked back and forth between her two older sisters. "Maybe she should stay home, Jocelyn. If she doesn't feel well—"

"Do you want to stay here with her?" Jocelyn walked toward the door. "If she stays home, one of us shall have to stay with her, and that means none of us might go, because neither of us can go alone with three gentlemen. It just wouldn't be proper. Come on, Rosalyn. You'll feel better for the fresh air."

Miss Lungren straightened, and William noticed she looked every one of her thirty-some years. Her skin was a pasty white with bright spots of color on each cheek. Frankly, he didn't want to ride in the carriage with her if she carried some contagion. Yet he crossed the room toward her, intending to help her to a chair.

"Papa was like this for months, and he still managed to get around to do his business," Miss Jocelyn said.

Tears sparkled in Miss Lungren's eyes when William reached her side. "I fear I have contracted the family disease, just like my brothers and father before me," she whispered.

The family disease was poison. A chill went down William's spine. He had to get her out of here.

He glanced across at Sheridan and Randleton and thought they were too far away to have heard what Rosalyn said.

"Then I must insist you come with us, Miss Lungren. The food prepared by Mrs. Merriwether's chef will cure anyone."

Sheridan gave him a sharp look, as if to remind him that he shouldn't know anything about the food at the Merriwether house. Which hadn't been the point he'd been trying to make.

"I had the pleasure of dining on meals prepared by him when he cooked for Watier's." William kissed his fingers in a Gallic gesture of appreciation.

Miss Lungren looked at him as if he'd killed her last hope. Really, he must pull the others aside and let them know he thought she was being poisoned. But in the meantime he had to get her out of here. He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the door.

"Perhaps you would like to take a stroll in the garden and see if it helps restore feelings of health," suggested Sheridan as they moved past him. "A walk in fresh air can do remarkable things for the constitution."

Bedford wanted to growl at the major, but suddenly their eyes met and he realized Sheridan suspected the same thing that he did.

"Please, I should like that," said Miss Lungren. She was probably hoping that with the delay she could stay home. She really didn't look as if she wanted to go.

William leaned close and whispered, "Miss Lungren, if you are still feeling unwell when we get to Mrs. Merriwether's, she will find a place for you to lie down, but I must insist that you go. I fear for your safety if you stay here."

She gave him a wide-eyed stare and then a tiny nod of acquiescence. She probably thought he was concerned about Lord Carlton showing up on her doorstep.

They took a turn about the garden, and Randleton did his best to get the sisters to name the plants, while Sheridan seemed to be trying to commit each one to memory by staring at the withered foliage in the fading light, while they supported a sagging Miss Lungren as best they could.

"I think we should send for the physician," announced Miss Carolyn, looking at her sister.

"I already did," said Miss Lungren. She coughed a bit. "I received word back that he is attending Lord Carlton."

"Really?" said Miss Jocelyn.

The men all looked at each other, wondering why Lord Carlton needed the physician. When William could stand the question no longer, he said, "Do you know why?"

"They said he had an apoplexy," said Miss Lungren.