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“Yes.”

“Who is she?”

“The daughter of our next-door neighbor. It was an innocent encounter … that night. Miss Bigsby and I did not … engage in anything untoward. We merely conversed.”

Trafford mused over this, taking many seconds to respond. “You … love her?”

Simon’s throat thickened. “More than myself. Miss Bigsby is more than I deserve.”

Trafford made a snorting sound in commiseration. “As is Lady Trafford, old chap. She has tolerated much botheration from me.”

Despite the grim circumstances, the remark coaxed a faint, rueful smile from Simon. For the first time since this nightmare had begun, he felt a glimmer of understanding pass between them. A silent truce. Trafford, it seemed, had decided to reconsider his judgment of guilt.

The gentleman cleared his throat. “So … who might have … done this?” He waved a hand toward the table where Lady Trafford was assisting Madeline, the sound of retching making Simon’s stomach clench in sympathy. She should not be suffering such torture.

Simon stroked his beard. There was nothing that either he or Trafford could do, so this was as good a time as any to unpack the contents of his mind. “My mother.”

“Lady Blackwood? What reason would she have?”

It was an excellent question, and one he had to contemplate with great attention. His mother had always seemed something of an empty vessel. She never displayed much emotion, and her statements were usually repetitions of his father’s thoughts about the topic at hand. There was only one character trait he knew for certain … “Vanity.”

Trafford cocked his head. “I do not understand⁠—”

“I know not the details, but I can assure you that whatever her motive is, it can be summed up in one word as some form of vanity.”

“Well, perhaps … I should have my footmen come in to help the ladies while you and I go have a little word with Lady Blackwood?”

Considering how far his mother had taken things, she had to be considered a danger. The time had arrived to confront her before she could wreak more havoc.

“If Lady Trafford believes Miss Bigsby will be all right without us?”

The viscountess was helping Madeline to drink down a fresh cup of the magnesia mixture when they approached the table. She listened to their plan.

“Miss Bigsby has informed me that she received the arsenic minutes before Mr. Scott discovered her, which means we began treatment in good time. Our men can assist me while you put an end to the danger.” Lady Trafford pressed her lips together, frowning as if weighing the gravity of the situation. “A lunatic did this, and their freedoms must be curtailed before another person is harmed. Instruct the kitchen staff to discard all food and drink in the house. It is better to err on the side of caution.”

Simon placed a hand on Madeline’s shoulder. “Would it be all right if I left you? I promise to return soon.”

Madeline’s face was pale when she glanced up, her amber eyes red-rimmed and her skin blotchy but less swollen than he had initially found her. She raised a hand to brush it over his, nodding in agreement. “Put … an … end … to this.”

He released her to step back, but she shot out a hand to stop him. “My reti … cule.”

Simon looked down to find a fat, embroidered reticule dangling from her wrist. He gently unlooped it to set it aside.

“Nay … open it.”

Simon tugged it open to find a number of letters jammed inside the bulging fabric. He pulled them out, raising his head in question. Madeline was drinking, but she bobbed her head toward the letters. He looked down, not understanding until he caught sight of the return address inked on the outer fold.

“Bianca Scott? Peter’s wife?”

Madeline paused her drinking. “Found … them … mother’s … desk.”

Simon raked a hand through his hair, staring down at the damning letters. “She did it! She killed Lord Filminster!”

Trafford reached out to grab the stack, leafing through with dexterity. “There are letters from your brother Peter here. You have not seen these before?”

Simon shook his head. “Certainly not.”

“I believe we know why no one knew about your nephews. She must have hidden any correspondence from Peter or his wife. We need to confront your mother and then find the servant who has been assisting her. There is more than one killer in this house.”