Page 93 of A Scandalous Bargain
“You came to question me about that?” Thomas asked irritably.
“Actually, no. As you know, we searched your house yesterday. We were still looking for that penknife.”
“And you didn’t find it.”
“No. We did, however, find a substance in a container in your upstairs sitting room. It was in the cabinet where you keep the liquor. That’s why we came back yesterday to search the entire house.”
Thomas tried to think of what the man could be describing, but had absolutely no idea. He rarely opened that cabinet. There was always a bottle and glasses on the top—and that was all he needed to pour a drink. “What substance?”
“We weren’t certain what it was, but we’ve since determined it to be hemlock.”
Why was there poison in his bloody liquor cabinet? Oh no… Thomas felt as though the air around him had thinned. He could see precisely where this was going. “You think this is evidence,” he said softly.
“It’s poison.”
“Lady Rockbourne wasn’t poisoned. She fell.”
“Hemlock can cause paralysis. Perhaps she was poisoned and that contributed to her falling.”
“That’s a great deal of supposition. In fact, that’s all you have. She fuckingfell. After she came after me with a knife, intent on stabbing me. She hated me, was a horrible wife and mother, and I’m relieved she’s gone. If that makes me guilty of murder…” He clenched his fists. “No, it doesn’t make me guilty of murder. It simply makes me guilty of despising her in return and lacking in regret at her passing.” He was perhaps not as horrible as her, but he wasn’t blameless. Neither was he trying to pretend he was.
“There is evidence,” the constable near the door said. He was older than Dearborn, probably around forty, with gray-and-black hair and a slender frame. “The letter from Lady Rockbourne, testimony from your household as to your temperament that isn’t, shall we say, completely favorable, and the hemlock. You also lied to Dearborn at the onset of the investigation. We will disinter Lady Rockbourne’s body and test her for hemlock.”
“You can’t do that,” Thomas said through his gritted teeth.
“Her mother has already requested that we do. It will be done.”
What did it matter? They wouldn’t find anything. Unless Thea had poisoned herself. Why the hell was there hemlock in his house anyway?
Thomas suddenly knew.Shewas going to use it on him. He thought back to how that evening had started. She’d been alarmingly pleasant, offering to pour him a brandy. Surprised and disturbed by her uncharacteristic charm, he’d declined. Now that he recalled the event, he realized she’d been disappointed. Things had escalated quickly after that, and now he knew he’d pricked her temper by frustrating her plans.
“Fine,” Thomas ground out. “She wasn’t poisoned, and you’ll discover that soon enough.”
Dearborn came away from the wall and walked to the center of the room. “Why was there hemlock in your sitting room?”
Thomas still stood just inside the doorway. “My best estimation is that Lady Rockbourne planned to poison me. She wanted a divorce. Desperately. I refused to give her one.”
Frowning, Dearborn crossed his arms. “Another thing you neglected to tell us. What else are you hiding?”
“I was trying to protect the memory of a woman who didn’t deserve my concern. She wanted to be free of our marriage. She was a terrible wife and mother. I didn’t want my daughter to ever know that.”
“She doesn’t need to.”
“Except that this investigation is already the latest gossip.” Thomas took a modicum of pleasure from the look of surprise in Dearborn’s features, followed by disappointment.
“We do not share information,” Dearborn assured him.
“You also can’t promise that information won’t become public. Especially if I’m arrested.” Thomas glanced at the other two constables. “Is that what’s happening here?” He tensed.
Dearborn’s face twitched. “I haven’t decided yet. However, I would like it if you would come to Bow Street so we may question you formally. That way, you’ll have an opportunity to provide everything you may have omitted. Including the name of the woman with whom you’ve been having an affair.”
“I told you, I am not having an affair.” At least, he hadn’t been. Not when Thea had died.
But was he now? God, he hoped so.
“Will you assemble the household, my lord? We’d like to question everyone briefly,” the older constable asked.
Thomas glowered at Dearborn. “Perhaps you could at least introduce me to your colleagues.”
