“I won’t be far,” he assured her. “I’m home from Bath now—home to stay. I won’t leave you like that again, I promise.”
He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. Even though he had promised not to leave her once before, she found that she had no trouble believing he was telling the truth. He had come all the way home to tell her that he loved her. She knew he meant it.
She was so grateful for the fact that she had gotten to see him again. And she hoped that she was on the road to recovery. But if things didn’t go well—if her health took a turn for the worse—at least she would know that her husband was here with her. At least she would know that she was loved.
Right now, it felt like more than she had ever dared to hope for.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off, secure in the knowledge that Edward was by her side, and that he would be here for her no matter what came now.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Edward sat still, watching Lydia sleep.
Something about all this felt deeply disturbing, and the more he turned it around in his mind, the more his thoughts returned to Margaret.
Why would she leave?
Could Lydia have truly been mistaken? Could Margaret have always intended to leave the house? Maybe she had already been gone by the time Lydia’s illness had struck.
Maybe.
But it all seemed so coincidental. The timing was too perfect. Margaret had given Lydia tea without taking any herself, and then she had disappeared, and Lydia had become desperately ill? How could that be?
It sounds like a case of poisoning… but surely, Margaret couldn’t be capable of such a thing. I’ve never liked her, but I just can’t think of her as a killer! She wouldn’t do that… would she?
He released Lydia’s hand gently, rose to his feet, and let himself out of her room. Little though he wanted to leave her side, he had to find the answer to this question. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew for sure. And he wouldn’t be able to find out unless he went directly to the source.
Ten minutes later, he was on horseback again, riding hard in the direction of Margaret’s country home.
At least this was a much shorter journey than the trip home from Bath had been. And the anger that fueled him was powerful enough to keep him from noticing any difficulty. Even if she’d done absolutely nothing to harm Lydia, she should never have left.
What did she mean by it, going off to her country house and leaving Lydia by herself? It was a cruel thing to do.
He knocked vigorously on the front door. A moment later, Margaret answered, looking bemused and somewhat irritated. “Edward?” she said. “You’re supposed to be in Bath.”
“And you’re supposed to be at home. What are you doing here?”
“A lady can’t take a little time to herself? You’ve never minded when I left Westfrey before.” She sniffed. “Actually, I rather thought you preferred it. I know you don’t care for my company.”
“Don’t do that. Are you aware that Lydia is ill?”
“Oh, dear,” Margaret replied, her eyes widening. “Is she all right?”
“You can’t expect me to believe you’re surprised. According to everyone at the house, she fell ill at almost the very moment you decided to leave. Lydia says she thought she was supposed to come with you, but then you left her behind. What happened?”
“Oh, I never dreamed she would want to come!” Margaret said. “You know how she’s been lately. She’s kept to herself so much. She doesn’t want to socialize with anyone. Why would she want to spend time with me? I thought she would be happy to have me out of the house.”
“You don’t actually think she would be happy to be alone in that big house,” Edward said darkly.
But he was no longer sure. Was he really about to accuse his stepmother of slipping Lydia poison? Now that he stood face to face with her, it felt like such a wild accusation. And once he spoke the words, he’d never be able to take them back.
But on the other hand…
If Lydia had consumed poison, he had to know. The physician needed to know so that he could treat her properly. It wouldn’t be good enough to suggest that he suspected something like that might have happened. He needed to know exactly what had been done so he could be sure she was properly cared for.
Colin would be angry at him for accusing Margaret if she turned out to be innocent. But Colin would have to live with that, and Edward would have to bear his brother’s wrath. It was a chance he was unwilling to take—that Lydia might have been poisoned, and Margaret might be responsible. If there was even a possibility that it was true, he had to find out.
“I think you came here to hide,” he told her.
