Page 66 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“Castor! Pollux!” Catherine scolded immediately. “Stop that at once. Elsie works here. You should know that.”

When the two Great Danes refused to stand down, she took their collars and guided them out into the garden through the French doors, closing the door behind them.

“There!” she huffed. “I’m sorry…”

But now Lucretia, too, was on her feet, her teeth bared towards the maid. She barked once, a fiercer sound than Catherine had ever heard her make. She even lunged at Elsie and snatched a piece of cake from the tray, holding it in her teeth and snarling.

The maid took a sharp step back, the tea tray rattling in her hands.

Thinking that her dogs had gone quite mad and wondering if animals could get sunstroke, Catherine grabbed Lucretia’s collar, too, and herded her outside with the others.

“I should go back to the kitchen,” Elsie squeaked, trembling. “I should get fresh tea and cake for you. Look, some of this is spilled now, and the dog had its teeth in the cake.”

“Don’t be silly,” Catherine said calmly, taking the tray from the young woman’s shaking hands and putting it down on the table. “It’s perfectly all right.”

“It would be no trouble, Your Grace,” Elsie babbled. “This pot will be getting all cold now, and that’s no good with tea…”

“I’ll deal with the tea, and you can get back to your work. I’ll have another word with Mr. Bellchurch about my dogs. Perhaps there’s some problem with the sound of a tray or opening of doors, but they’ll have to be trained out of it.”

“Your Grace,” Elsie said, still standing in the doorway and now looking very distressed, indeed. “Please, let me take that away.”

Seeing the housekeeper in the corridor, Catherine called out to her. “Mrs. Kaye? I’m afraid that my dogs gave Elsie a bit of a fright, and I had to put them outside. Could you take her back to the servants’ quarters and make sure she’s all right? I’ll speak to Mr. Bellchurch about the dogs again later. I’m very sorry.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Kaye dragged the distressed maid away with a capable arm, finally leaving Catherine to enjoy her refreshments in peace.

The tea was indeed lukewarm, and the cake was rather underwhelming, making Catherine wish that she had skipped teatime and simply waited until dinner. She ate only a few mouthfuls before putting her plate aside and realizing how sleepy she suddenly felt. Her arms and legs were like stone andimpossible to lift, and her mind felt as though it had soared a million miles away.

The last thing Catherine remembered was hearing the increasingly frantic sound of her dogs barking on the other side of the French doors.

“Where is she?” Hugh shouted as he dismounted his horse in front of Redbridge Hall and bounded up the stone steps two at a time.

The messenger had caught him on the road back from his grandmother’s house with a note from Perkins informing him only that Catherine had collapsed and a physician had been summoned. Hugh had his carriage stop at the next coaching inn and hired their fastest horse.

“Her Grace is with the physician now, Your Grace, in her rooms,” the butler told him, running along behind him. “She was unconscious when we found her, and Dr. Vernon said to carry her upstairs.”

Hugh didn’t answer, already racing ahead up the grand staircase, his heart somewhere between breaking and exploding. A few moments later, he burst into Catherine’s bedroom, where the neat and efficient Dr. Vernon stood at her bedside.

“What happened? Is my wife badly hurt?” Hugh demanded as he walked over to the bed. He bent over his too-still wife and touched her face, alarmed by the pallor of her skin.

Catherine didn’t respond to his touch, and he could barely even detect the rise and fall of her chest beneath the covers.

“It’s hard to know, Your Grace,” Dr. Vernon said, stroking his clipped brown beard nervously. “There are no signs of trauma or disease, but something has lowered Her Grace’s heart rate and blood pressure to the point of unconsciousness. Smelling salts and loud noises have no effect, but I’d like to know what made her collapse before I try stronger stimulants. The wrong one could do more harm than good.”

“But what could possibly have induced this state? Has she had a shock or received a blow to the head?” Hugh asked, unable to process what was happening. “Catherine was perfectly well when I left her this morning, and she has no history of illness or infirmity of any sort.”

“Your staff informed me that Her Grace had just returned from a long walk in the woods,” the physician said, choosing his words carefully. “I’m wondering whether she could have come into contact with any poisonous substances out there. Plants, toadstools, poisons for animals, perhaps?”

“Good God!” Hugh exclaimed, the wordpoisonhitting him like a blow to the gut. “Perkins, did my wife eat anything when she returned to the house?”

“She rang for tea and cake, yes, Your Grace,” the butler answered. “It was still in the drawing room when she collapsed. Her Grace had only touched the cake.”

“Is it still there?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Mrs. Kaye wouldn’t let anyone else in that room until you returned—not even the maids.”

“Very good, Perkins. Send for Bellchurch. I want that cake fed to vermin immediately, and I want to know what happens to them. One more thing, were there any visitors here today? Guests? Tradesmen? Peddlers?”

“No one, Your Grace. Her Grace went out, of course, but no one has come in.”

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