“I—”
“Admit it! I know it was you, so admit it!”
Lady Deborah looked away and said nothing, and it was all the evidence Thomas needed. “You’re a monster,” he hissed.
They should have known something was wrong when the handwriting didn’t match. They should have suspected something was strange when the second herb differed from the first. They should have understood, at so many different moments along the way, that Lord Keenward had nothing to do with any of this. He would never want his niece dead.
But Lady Deborah had confessed many times over to wishing Madeleine wasn’t in her way.
Apparently, she had decided to solve that problem for herself.
The fact that Madeleine could have paid for Lady Deborah’s jealousy with her life made Thomas want to lash out at her. Instead, he took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm.
“Madeleine,” he said, “is your uncle in the house?”
“He’s not at home,” Madeleine said rather faintly. “He’s gone out to visit an acquaintance. Thomas, what—?”
“I need to speak to one of your footmen,” Thomas said. “We need to send for a constable.”
“There should be someone in the foyer.”
“No, I won’t leave you alone with her. You go and find someone and send them back here.”
Madeleine hurried off. Thomas hoped she would be back quickly. In the meantime, though, he didn’t take his eyes off Lady Deborah. He was afraid she might try something else now that he understood how volatile and dangerous she could be when she was provoked.
“Thomas, please,” Lady Deborah said. “You know I wouldn’t do what you’re suggesting. How could I?”
“You may take that up with the constable,” Thomas said. “But I’m convinced. It was you who sent the poison. And though it might not have been meant for me, I was the one who drank it, and your scheme nearly resulted in my death. Not to mention the fact that you clearly intended to harm my wife—how dare you do such a thing? You can’t possibly expect me to walk away from this conversation with any affection for you.”
“Thomas—I never meant for that to happen.”
“No. You only meant to murder my wife,” Thomas said. “And for that, I promise, you are going to pay.”
EPILOGUE
The constables arrived quickly. By the time they’d reached the house, Lady Deborah had given up protesting. She sat beside the fire, looking disconsolate.
She had admitted to everything. That was what mattered, Thomas had said. Now that she had fully confessed to her crimes in front of the Duke and Duchess of Westcourt, she would be on her way to jail to be punished for what she had done. Attempted murder—it would carry a very serious punishment, Madeleine knew. Lady Deborah might never walk free again.
Madeleine found she didn’t care about that at all.
She and Thomas had made their way to a corner of the room and looked at one another as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. “Are you all right?” Thomas asked urgently. He gripped her hands, then her arms and shoulders, reassuring himself by touch that she was telling the truth, that she was indeed unharmed.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Really. Nothing happened to me.”
“I heard the two of you arguing.”
“Just an argument. It’s all right.”
He touched her cheek, where Lady Deborah had slapped her, and the sting of it reminded Madeleine of that slap. In the face of what had come after, she had forgotten all about it, but now she remembered. She couldn’t believe Lady Deborah had slapped her hard enough that a mark was still visible.
“Oh,” she said. “That.”
“What happened?” Thomas sounded furious. He must have guessed, at least to some extent, what had happened, but he was going to wait for her to confirm it.
“It was nothing. She slapped me, but it wasn’t that bad, really. I’m all right now.”
“She slapped you?” Thomas’s voice was dark.
