Melissa sighed. “Except that I really don’t like warm milk—as you well know.”
“Yes, well.” Jolene waved her to the dressing table. “You’ll just have to hold your nose and drink it, won’t you? You can’t refuse such an offering.” She looked at the mug, steaming on the dresser. “It’s so romantic that he’s thinking of you.”
Melissa released the rope, and surprised in mid-tug, Ulysses rolled paws over ears backward. Smiling, Melissa climbed to her feet. She glanced at the mug, only to feel a thump on her foot. She looked down. Ulysses had raced in and dropped the rope invitingly.
She looked at the puppy. Tongue lolling out, he yapped at her, all but daring her to pick up the rope again.
She grinned, swooped, and grabbed one end just as Ulysses darted in and grabbed the other. She tugged, expecting him to pull back. Instead, the pup released his hold, and she was the one tripping backward. Flailing to keep her balance, she released the rope, sending it wildly flying.
Clack!
Jolene had rushed in and steadied her. They both turned to see the mug tipped over, and the milk cascading across the dressing table’s top to drip off the edge and pool on the polished floor.
“Drat that puppy.” Jolene cast the pup a dark look.
Unrepentant, he grinned and wagged his tail at her.
“I encouraged him. You can’t scold him without scolding me as well, and you know you won’t do that.” Melissa walked to the dressing table and reached out to right the mug. Her hand froze, hovering over the pottery as her eyes took in the gritty residue that the spill of milk had left on the glass of the dressing table’s surface, just beyond the lip of the mug.
She couldn’t drag her gaze from the sight. “Jolene?”
“What?” The maid had gone to retrieve the rope. She straightened and looked at Melissa.
Melissa felt Ulysses nudging at her skirts, attempting to find a way past to the milk pooling on the floor. Fear streaked through her, and she bent and caught him before he could reach the white puddle. “That’s not for you.” She lifted him into her arms and straightened, then looked at the tipped mug. “And I don’t think I want any of it, either.” She caught Jolene’s gaze and, with her head, directed the maid to the mess on the table. “What do you think that is?”
Puzzled, Jolene came to the dressing table, then she saw what Melissa had and, frowning more definitely, bent closer to study the powdery pieces.
Cuddling Ulysses, Melissa asked, “What are you thinking?”
Jolene straightened. Her usual rosy color had fled, and with her gaze, like Melissa’s, fixed on the residue, she swallowed before saying, “It’s not laudanum, that’s for certain. If I had to guess…it looks like the poison gardeners put out for rats.”
“Arsenic.” Melissa glanced at Ulysses, and her features set. She looked at Jolene. “Don’t touch anything. Ring for a footman and send them to ask his lordship to join me here as a matter of urgency.”
“Yes, my lady.” Jolene went to the wall by the dressing room door and tugged the bellpull that hung there.
While the maid went out to the sitting room to intercept whichever of the footmen answered and pass on Melissa’s summons, Melissa turned her back on the dressing table and walked across to stand before the fireplace. She stared into the empty grate, hugged Ulysses close, and while she waited, buried her face in his now-sweet-smelling fur.
Five minutes later, Julian burst into the room, already on high alert. “What’s wrong?’
Having had time to think, Melissa asked, “You didn’t order Benton to bring me hot milk, did you?”
He frowned. “No.” His hands rising to his hips, he added, “I would be more likely to send you a brandy. Perhaps Mama?”
“I doubt it.” She pointed to the spilt milk. “Look carefully at what’s been left behind on the glass.”
He crossed to the table and stared down. When he raised his head and met her gaze, his eyes were bleak, and his face had set in forbidding lines. “Benton brought this up?”
Racked by a maelstrom of emotions, fear and fury the foremost, Julian watched Melissa nod. “She said you’d ordered it for me, that you thought I would benefit from it.”
Fury surged and roared through him. “Did she, indeed?”
He swung on his heel and strode for the door. “Let’s see what she has to say for herself.”
He crossed the sitting room, vaguely aware that Melissa, still carrying Ulysses, started to follow, but stopped and turned back, presumably to hand over the puppy and instruct Jolene regarding the spill. He didn’t slow; he had to—needed to—seize the moment and Benton, too.
Once out of their apartments, he headed for the main stairs; he was almost running when he reached the gallery and saw Felix and Damian stepping up from the stairs.
His brothers took one look at his face and straightened. “What?” Felix asked.
