Page 83 of A Momentary Marriage

“Hmm. Scylla or Charybdis,” Laura agreed, matching his tone.

“Who? Oh, yes, those Greek folks. Never cared much for ancient gods and all that. Everyone always died. What good is that?”

“You’re absolutely right.” Laura chuckled. “What do you suppose Netherly is doing—admiring your mother or concocting poetry?”

“I’d wager he’d say both. He’s fond of calling her his muse.” He frowned. “Never understood poetry, really. All that rhyming seems unnecessary.”

“I thought Tessa said you were poetical.”

He goggled. “Me?”

“She mentioned once that you were frequently in your room writing.”

“Oh. That.” Walter reddened. “That’s just . . . well, not poetry. It’s, um, some stories.”

“Really?” Laura asked, intrigued. “What sort of stories?”

“Oh, well, nothing important, really. Um, just tales of adventure. That kind of thing. James would say it’s foolish.”

Laura laughed. “James would no doubt say that about a number of things. James can be quite foolish that way.”

She startled a laugh from the young man, but he shrugged. “I do it to pass the time. University is so boring, you see. I rather like history, but philosophy and Latin . . .” His face turned gloomy.

“Those things do sound dull.”

“They are.” Walter perked up a bit at her agreement. “Now, knights or cavaliers are ever so much more interesting.”

“Is that what you write about? Days of yore?”

“Well . . . yes, sometimes.” He blushed again. “A couple of them.”

“How many have you written?”

“I don’t know. A few. That’s what I do instead of studying most times. Well, or helping the other chaps with pranks.”

“Do you ever let anyone read them? I’d like to read one.”

“You would?” He gaped at her. “Really? Yes, of course, that would be grand! I mean, if you really want to.”

“Of course.” Laura smiled at his eagerness. Walter could not, absolutely could not, be the person who had tried to kill James. “Walter . . . when you used to fetch James’s medicine from the apothecary . . . were you always the one to pick it up?”

“I think so. I like getting out. It’s easy to think when I’m riding or walking. I suppose one of the servants might have gone sometimes if I wasn’t around.”

“When you brought it home, did you put it away in that cabinet in his room?”

“If his door was open, I set it on his dresser. If not, I’d put it on the table outside his room—didn’t want to disturb him, you see.” His brow knitted. “Why? James asked me the same question.” He leaned forward. “You don’t think—was there something wrong with the medicine? You can’t think someone, well, tampered with it. Do you?”

“There would be little reason for it,” Laura said, avoiding his question.

“No, of course not. The servants like James well enough, I think.” He looked thoughtful. “I can’t imagine Barkens would have anything against James, either; couldn’t be him.”

“Who?”

“The apothecary. His name’s Barkens. He seems a good enough chap. Claude and Archie and I played cards with him awhile back.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.” Laura hoped she had hidden her start of surprise at his words. “He’s one of the men Claude plays cards with in the village.”

“Yes. Poor play. Old Arch was disappointed, I’ll tell you.” Walter let out a crack of laughter. “But, you know, not much choice in the village.”