Lyn Stone Read online

  “You think it affects the mind? Have you questioned her?”

  “Not yet. Suppose it is only tea after all? Let’s see what happens first. If it hasn’t done in Father after drinking it for so many years, I’m confident I’ll survive one cup.”

  Lily pleaded with all three men as they prepared the tea at Mimms’s instruction. She hovered around them, feeling totally shut out. They refused to pay any attention to her protests whatsoever.

  Mimms heated a small amount of water in a little long-handled pot at the fireplace, apparently accustomed to doing so a number of times over the years. That accomplished, Guy dropped in two spoons of grayish, dusty-looking tea leaves and stirred. Lily sniffed the air. “Very little scent to it.” Mimms covered it.

  “It should steep until it’s lukewarm,” he declared, “else it will burn his mouth.” Mimms looked over at the earl. “You should wait several days, you know. Even if he demanded this, I believe it’s too soon. His heart, you know…”

  “Not to worry,” Guy said. “Father will be fine.”

  Mimms had not been told the tea was for other than the earl and simply believed Guy wanted to see how it was prepared and help administer it to his father. When the brew had steeped long enough, the valet strained it from the pot into a heavy porcelain mug.

  “That will be all, Mimms,” Guy said. “You may retire now.”

  He clasped a large, gnarled hand to his chest. “But I should be the one to stay here and see to his lordship.”

  “Not tonight. You deserve a good sleep,” Guy said evenly. “That will be all.”

  Mimms moved hesitantly toward the spacious dressing room adjacent to the master chamber where his cot was located.

  “Not in there, Mimms,” Guy said. “Go belowstairs and find a room.”

  “Guy,” Lily whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “That’s not done.” It was a horrid come-down for an upper servant to be sent to stay belowstairs. A valet to the servants’ quarters? Mimms would never forgive it.

  But the man did not object to that. What he did question was the welfare of his old commander. “Sir, I beg you. Caution him to wait. He is too weak.”

  Guy paused as if thinking it over, then nodded. “You’re right, Mimms. I promise on my honor that I won’t give it to him. Not a drop. Do you trust my word, Mimms?”

  “Yes, my lord, of course.” Then he promptly left as he’d been ordered.

  “Now then,” Guy said, turning back to the small serving table where Galen Jelf stood, licking his lips and making a face.

  “That is a foul-tasting bit of deviltry, Guy. Whew!”

  “Jelf! What have you done?” Guy knocked the cup from his hand.

  “Now look at that mess,” Galen scolded. “There were a couple of swallows left. How shall we get the full effect?”

  “Damn you, man! That was for me!”

  “Trust me, it was no treat you missed.” Galen grinned and held out the lengths of silken cord Guy had collected for the purpose of restraining himself. “Would you like to do the honors, Lily?” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “I am feeling rather ravenous already. Are we certain that nasty brew wasn’t aphrodisiacal?”

  Guy snatched up the ropes and roughly bound his friend hand and foot, while Galen shook with laughter.

  Lily thanked the man with all her heart. If he sickened from this wicked dose of tea, she might feel guilty, but Guy was safe from its possible effects and that was all that mattered. As for it making Galen Jelf lose his wits, he had seemed a bit lacking at the outset.

  The old earl slept on, blissfully unaware of what they were doing on the opposite side of the room. Lily kept watch, both on the patient and on Galen Jelf.

  Guy had lowered him to the soft, thick carpet, well away from the fireplace. And they waited.

  At first he appeared to be falling asleep, his eyelids at half-mast and a faint smile curling his lips. She glanced at Guy and he shrugged. Neither knew what to expect next. This could be the extent of the effects.

  The earl’s soft snore, the crackle of the dwindling fire and the ticking of the clock on the mantel were the only sounds in the room.

  Soon Galen began to hum intermittently. A wider smile graced his handsome features. Lily could almost imagine him languishing in the arms of a woman, so sensuous was his expression, the sounds he made and the subtle shifting of his body.

  Those sounds brought to mind her night in bed with Guy. When she darted a glance his way, she knew his thoughts had also flown in that direction.

  He cleared his throat and looked away. She, too, felt uncomfortable. And warm, very warm.

  “He seems all right thus far,” she whispered, hoping to dispel the sudden tension between them.

  Galen’s eyes opened fully and he looked at her and Guy. Or perhaps through them. His voice grew even more sultry, the words disjointed and indistinct. But he did not exhibit behavior beyond that of being pleasantly inebriated.

  “Perhaps he didn’t drink enough of it?” Lily ventured. “Since some was spilled.”

  “This is not working,” Guy grumbled, his disappointment evident because he thought the test had failed. “He’s only foxed and was probably that way when he arrived. Let’s bring him around and put him to bed on Mimms’s cot.”

  “I don’t believe so, Guy,” Lily argued. “He didn’t seem drunk when—”

  “With Galen it’s often difficult to tell. He wears his liquor exceptionally well most of the time. God knows he’s had enough practice at it.”

  With that, he knelt beside Galen and shook his arm, tapping him lightly on the face. “C’mon, old boy. Sober up now.”

  Suddenly, Galen issued a howl and came alive with a vengeance. Guy tried to cover his mouth to keep him from waking the earl and narrowly missed getting bitten.

  Horrified, hand over her own mouth, Lily watched with morbid fascination as Galen Jelf evolved into a snarling, snapping beast, struggling to snap his bonds. His sharp cries chilled her soul.

  Guy managed to hold him nearly immobile, but Galen fought all the harder, twisting and groaning, obviously terrified and wild in his fear. They inched closer to the fireplace.

  “Watch out! Do not let him hurt you!” she warned Guy.

  “This explains giving laudanum!” he snapped back, but she knew he wouldn’t give it.

  Were Galen not bound, Lily hated to think what damage he might be doing. The struggle seemed to go on forever and Guy was tiring. She dropped to her knees beside Galen’s feet and helped hold him down.

  Guy’s eyes met hers as he pinned Galen’s upper body flat to the floor. They remained in that uncomfortable and strained tableau until they were fairly certain the worst was over. Then Guy walked on his knees over to Lily and she fell into his arms. He almost crushed her.

  She realized she was weeping. “Oh, Guy, that was so…awful.”

  He took in a deep breath and when he spoke his voice sounded thick. “It is the tea, Lily. Thank God in heaven. It is the tea.”

  They sat there on the worn carpet beside Galen for another hour and more, fearing he would wake up and resume his thrashing. Guy leaned against the front of the heavy armchair and Lily reclined against him, sheltered in his arms.

  The clock ticked on as the earl snored in his bed. Galen remained silent and still as death. His chest hardly rose and fell at all.

  Finally, Guy moved her away from him and went to kneel over Galen. “I think it’s probably safe to untie him now and put him to bed.”

  “Try waking him again first,” she suggested.

  Guy managed to rouse his friend enough to sit him upright, though the heavy shoulders slumped forward as if he were extremely exhausted.

  Tears leaked from the corners of Jelf’s eyes as he raised his head slightly to peer at her. He bit his full lips together and slowly shook his head back and forth.

  The poor man badly needed comfort. She leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. He caught back a sob and closed his eyes. Gone was the cheerful, ra
kehell lord justice. Galen seemed broken and totally defenseless.

  “I am forever in your debt, sir,” she whispered sincerely, knowing that if not for Galen’s interference, Guy could be this ravaged soul sitting beside her on the floor.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lily waited impatiently in the study for Guy to come downstairs the next morning. He had spent the night in his father’s chamber, keeping watch over both Galen and his father.

  Beau had been fed earlier and was playing in Guy’s old nursery with one of the two maids still employed here.

  Lily had learned this morning that the entire staff consisted of Mr. Mimms, the housekeeper she had met on her first visit, one stable lad and two maids. She would have to remedy that soon. There was work here for twice that number.

  Lily sipped her third cup of coffee and nibbled on a cold scone as she waited, but hunger eluded her. She knew she would never be able to drink tea again.

  Guy entered, holding the door for a lethargic Galen Jelf to enter. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and guided him to a chair. “We smelled the coffee,” he told Lily with a wry half smile.

  “How are you, Galen?” she asked, leaning over to pat his hand.

  He gave a one-shoulder shrug and even that seemed a great effort. “Tired to death. Guy tells me I delivered quite a show.”

  Lily exchanged a glance with her husband. “Not one I’d care to see again, but I’ve probably given that same performance a time or two.”

  He nodded. “The tea was drugged. The question is, with what?”

  Guy filled two cups with coffee and set one in front of Galen. “Was there anything familiar about the sensations you experienced?”

  “Like nothing I’ve encountered,” Galen admitted, nodding to her as he accepted the plate she had prepared at the sideboard. He attacked the scones and preserved pears with more energy than she had seen him exhibit thus far.

  He chewed rapidly and swallowed, then washed it down with the entire cup of coffee before he continued. “The effects were not akin to overimbibing spirits of any sort. Or even with smoking hemp.” He winced at what was probably a particularly bad memory. “More in line with eating opium, I should say, only much worse. There is a queasiness and residual head-pounding that smacks of a gin hangover.”

  “You banged your head on the floor, in case you don’t recall,” Guy reminded him.

  “Oh. Well, I suppose that could account for it. My stomach’s settling now that I’ve eaten.” He gratefully accepted more coffee. “I should feel quite the thing after this,” he said, lifting his cup in parody of a toast. “Thank you.”

  “No, it is we who should thank you,” Lily said sincerely. “You have no idea what might have been added to the tea?”

  He shook his head, but carefully, as though it still ached. “None.”

  Guy issued a mirthless laugh. “And he should know.”

  Lily shushed him.

  “No, he has it right,” Galen admitted ruefully. “My misspent youth stretched several years into my adulthood, if I’m to be perfectly honest, Lily. I wonder at times how I survived it with any sort of mind intact.”

  “That question goes begging,” Guy quipped, softening his words with a smile. “But you have provided us with evidence of what has likely affected Father all these years, and what might possibly be the cause of Lily’s supposed affliction.”

  “Nothing supposed about it,” she retorted. “Whatever caused it, my condition was still very real and horribly frightening, both to me and those around me.”

  “But we can now be almost certain it was induced,” Guy assured her. “The trick remains to prove that and to punish the one responsible.”

  “Clive,” Lily stated.

  “Probably,” Guy said, wearing a thoughtful look.

  “You doubt it?” Lily asked. “Who else has reason to do such a thing?”

  His long agile fingers toyed with the handle of his cup. “Dr. Ephriam seems to be the one connection you and my father have in common.” He paused, thinking. “But what would be his motive? Then there’s Bernadette. She’s certainly capable.”

  Galen leaned forward, his elbows on the table, hands spread in an encompassing gesture. “A conspiracy,” he suggested. “Say the doctor is hired by one of them. He profits only if they succeed in having you put out of their way and gain control of your money.”

  “My son’s money,” Lily corrected. “And my son himself.”

  “Control of him and his inheritance, then,” Galen said. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “A dastardly plan. All the pickpockets aren’t in rags it seems.”

  “So what do we do now?” Lily asked, turning to Guy for the answer.

  He smiled. “Go to the source of this tea and ask a few questions. That should settle it once and for all.”

  Galen stood. “Well, I came because I thought you might be up against some dark force you couldn’t handle. Since it’s only a doddering old doctor and greedy in-laws, I’m off to London. Unless you need me for another dose of humiliation?”

  Guy laughed and rose, too. He rounded the table and reached out to shake hands. “You’ve endured quite enough, Jelf. I don’t quite know how we’re to thank you.”

  Galen released Guy’s hand, stepped away, quickly leaned down and kissed Lily full on the mouth. She gasped, flummoxed that he would dare such a thing. It had been hasty, yet definitely not a brotherly buss. Her lips tingled.

  He chucked her under the chin. “There. All thanked.”

  Guy spun him around and clenched a fist in the front of his shirt, raising Galen to his toes. He growled through gritted teeth, his brow lowered. “By God, if you weren’t a friend…”

  “You would kill me. I know.” Galen bumped him lightly on the shoulder with a fist. “Apologies, old son. Mark it up to an addled brain if you like. But you know I never pass up the opportunity to kiss a beauty.”

  “Henceforth, leave this beauty alone,” Guy ordered.

  “Noted.” Galen winked down at Lily. “Send Smarky to London if you need me.” With that, he waited for Guy to release him, smoothed down his shirtfront with an open hand and executed a slight bow to each of them. “I bid you good day.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Guy grumbled, shooting Lily a dark look. “You stay here.”

  Lily hid a smile behind her fingertips and met Galen’s gaze of amusement with one of her own. “Safe trip,” she murmured, unable to contain her delight.

  Men were extremely territorial, she knew. That could account for Guy’s angry reaction to the kiss. But she liked to think it was more a personal thing, that he wanted all of her kisses for himself.

  Childish and foolishly romantic of her, but there it was. She wanted Guy to love her.

  He had once sworn never to marry, never to love anyone. He had forgone the first. Why not the second? Was the only impediment to loving a woman his father’s illness and the worry that it might occur in him, as well?

  Guy had borne such great responsibility from such an early age. She ached to take some of that from him, to help him and to show him he need not shoulder it all alone. Did she have the right to have him love her or would it only cause more heartbreak for him later?

  The future would indeed prove much brighter for both of them if his father’s madness, as well as her own, had been induced by a substance they had ingested. Easily remedied, easily banished. There was hope.

  She rose, went to the windows and pushed the draperies wide open to let in the sunlight. Her soul felt as sunny as all outdoors.

  But when her gaze drifted to the graveled drive below, her fingers clutched the damask fabric of the drape. Clive’s barouche sat near the front entry.

  What wickedness was he up to now? More than she dreaded what that might be, Lily feared that after what they had learned last night, Guy might kill him on the spot.

  She tore out of the morning room and rushed down to the foyer. Like it or not, she must intervene.

&
nbsp; Given her husband’s reputation and his dire threats against her former brother-in-law, there could very well be bloodshed.

  Guy sent the little housemaid Gretchen out to the stables to have Corrie saddle Galen’s mount. “One drink for the road while I give you a lesson in manners,” he told his friend.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, spare me your outrage, Guy. It was only a kiss between friends. No tongues involved, I promise.”

  “Excuse me, Guy…uh, milord,” Mrs. Sparks interrupted from behind them before they reached the library. “Mr. Bradshaw is in the parlor.” She paused and looked around, lowering her voice to a gruff whisper, “Along with the constable. What have you done now?”

  Guy slipped an arm around her hefty shoulders and gave her a hug. “Nothing at all and you’re not to worry. Go along now, I’ll take care of it.”

  He marched up the hallway and into the shabby parlor. So Clive had brought protection along this time, had he? Constable Frick was no friend, but neither was he much of a threat. What did Clive have up his sleeve now?

  He regarded them with a glare, the slick-haired, would-be baron and the pudgy, pug-nosed extension of the law. “Mr. Bradshaw, Mr. Frick, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

  Clive deferred to the constable with a nod, as if encouraging him to speak up. Frick took a deep breath and proceeded to do so. “Milord, you are in violation of the ordinance preventing the operation of a non-licensed facility for housing the insane. I believe you have two patients on the premises?”

  Guy laughed in disbelief. “I have what?”

  “You have two patients with the aforementioned affliction. Fully documented, I believe, by a reputable physician. This is against the law. We shall have to remove these unfortunates to a proper place of confinement and take you into custody, sir. Charges have been filed. There will be a fine of five hundred pounds.”

  “But he is licensed,” said a deep voice from behind him. Damn, but Galen could sound authoritative when need be. And, lord, could he lie with a straight face. Guy only prayed the lie would hold up to legal scrutiny.

  All eyes focused on Galen who lounged in the doorway, arms crossed as he leaned indolently against the jamb.