Page 67 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“Then I want everyone here to account for their movements today. I want to know where they were and what they were doing when the Duchess collapsed. You and Mrs. Kaye will interview every single member of the household as soon as possible. No one is to leave the premises without my express permission.”

“You think that cake was poisoned, Your Grace?” the butler gasped in realization, turning almost as pale as Catherine. “You think someone in this household tried to poison Her Grace?”

“Yes, I do, damn it! And it should have been me, not her. Now, do as I say, Perkins.”

Hugh sank to his knees beside Catherine and took one of her hands in his as the butler rushed away to do his bidding. “It shouldn’t have been you, Catherine. I’m the one they wanted to kill. Not you…”

He kissed her unresponsive palm. Along with love and helplessness, he felt a terrible sense of responsibility for what had happened and a less familiar thirst for vengeance.

“Your Grace, do I understand correctly?” Dr. Vernon said suddenly. “Are you saying that someone has intentionally poisoned Her Grace?”

“Yes,” Hugh hissed. “I am. I even believe I know the culprit, although they must have had inside help.”

“Then will you summon the constables to find them?” the doctor asked, alarmed. “This is a serious crime, and the culprit must be apprehended. If the person you suspect tells you the nature of the poison, that should also help me find the antidote.”

“We don’t require the constables yet. If Perkins can find the traitor among my staff, that will lead us directly to the culprit,” Hugh said grimly. “And if Catherine does not recover, I’ll see them both hang for this. I swear it!”

Dr. Vernon took Catherine’s pulse once more, noting the results down on a piece of paper while shaking his head. “Her Grace is stable, and her condition is not deteriorating further, but time is of the essence, Your Grace. If you truly know who might havedone this, I urge you to move quickly to discover which poison was used.”

Hugh rose reluctantly to his feet. “Then I must leave my wife in your hands, Dr. Vernon.”

The eyes of both men were drawn to the door as the sound of heavy footsteps and woofing dogs sounded outside the door.

“Your Grace?” Bellchurch called. “Are you in there? I must speak with you.”

Hugh went to the door and opened it to find all three dogs beside the gamekeeper. “Do those animals have to be up here?” he asked irritatedly.

“Yes, they do,” Bellchurch said calmly and then focused his attention entirely on his employer. “Mr. Perkins spoke to me, Your Grace. I’d already fed some of that cake to the birds. The same thing has happened to them as to Her Grace.”

“But the drawing room should have been locked!” Hugh frowned. “Perkins assured me it would remain locked.”

“It is locked. This was earlier. I heard there’d been trouble with Elsie and these dogs this afternoon, and a few minutes later, I heard them barking in the garden as if they’d gone mad. I came to see what was wrong and saw through the windows that Her Grace was on the floor. After I raised the alarm, I noticed that Lucretia had a piece of cake between her teeth.”

“Has the dog not been taken ill?” Hugh asked. “The birds have been affected but not Lucretia?”

“Lucretia wasn’t foolish enough to eat that cake, were you, girl?” The gamekeeper patted the Irish Setter’s silky head.

“Go on,” Hugh prompted, understanding that this was important.

“The dog could smell something wrong, and she was guarding that cake, not letting these two near it either. She let me pick it up, though, and I threw it away to the birds. Soon after, we had birds grounded across the garden, about seven of them, all sizes. The two smallest are dead, and the others, like Her Grace, collapsed.”

“Does that give you any clues, Dr. Vernon?” Hugh asked, turning back to the physician.

“It tells me that the poison was likely a depressant of animal systems, detectable to dogs and lethal in larger doses. But we still need to know exactly which one…”

Footsteps were racing up the stairs again, and a pale, sweating Perkins soon appeared again in the doorway. Bellchurch stepped aside to let him in.

“Have you begun interviewing the staff, Perkins? It’s crucial that we find out who—”

“Your Grace,” Perkins panted, shaking his head in answer to Hugh’s question. “We believe it was Elsie, but she’s run away. She’s the maid who served tea to Her Grace, and one of the other maids saw her running towards the woods when the messenger was sent for you. She hasn’t come back.”

“Search her room now,” Hugh ordered. “Bring me anything suspicious—bottles, correspondence, money, or other valuables. Bring me the details of her employment here, too, and all her references. I want to know exactly who she was and where she came from.”

Perkins nodded quickly and then was gone.

“Looks like these dogs were right,” Bellchurch commented, largely to himself, kneeling to pat the animals. “Good dogs! You knew Elsie was up to no good and tried to look after your mistress.”

“I want these dogs to stay outside this room while I’m gone, Bellchurch,” Hugh instructed. “You’re right that they were the only ones who sensed the danger and tried to prevent it. No one comes into this room unless they permit it.”

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