Page 56

“We have … both … paid the price …,” Lady Blackwood murmured.

Simon’s suspicions were correct. His mother had taken an overdose, believing Madeline already dead. He stepped forward, thinking to lift her and carry her down to the kitchen for help, but Trafford put out a hand to stay him.

Leaning in, his companion lowered his voice. “She will be arrested. Face public trial and be hanged at the Tower. Perhaps this is … merciful? A painless departure?”

Simon swallowed hard. Tears blurred his vision as he stared at the woman who had brought ruin upon them all, facing the fact that his only remaining parent was expiring in front of him.

She had attempted to kill Madeline. He wished he understood why.

“My journals are … my confession … to clear your name.”

Simon approached the bed, still trying to decide what was the right thing to do. “Why, Mother?”

“You will be baron … the greatest Campbell … Papa would … be so proud.”

Simon frowned, bewildered. “You mean my father?”

His mother’s face creased into a euphoric smile. “Lord Campbell … my papa … I disappointed him so … but … not anymore. My son … will be Baron … of Blackwood.”

“Mother, there are other heirs.”

Her eyes drifted closed. “I … have … taken care of …”

With that, his mother slipped into unconsciousness. Simon rushed forward and attempted to rouse her but to no avail. Gathering her in his arms, he was struck by how weightless she felt, as though the soul had already begun to part from the body. He turned toward the door, determined to carry her to the kitchen where Lady Trafford might … He did not know. His mother was hardly breathing, a curtain of rich brown hair cascading over his arm, and he knew she might quit long before he reached that destination. Trafford might be right about allowing her to pass, but his integrity required he at least attempt to wake her.

They descended three flights of stairs, but by the time they reached the servants’ level, Simon knew it was too late. Isla Scott was no more. He thought she might be pleased if she had known she had never looked more beautiful than she did in mortal repose.

Halting, Trafford understood without him stating it. The lord removed his glove to feel for a pulse, glancing up at Simon with a shake of his head. It was at that moment that Simon noticed the odd detail that his companion’s moss-green eyes were marred by large brown spots, musing that it was strange how tragedy such as this could focus one’s attention on insignificant minutia.

“I should … take her back upstairs?”

“Agreed. There is no reason to upset the ladies with a corpse while your Miss Bigsby is still unwell.”

“What did she mean … do you think? At the end? Did she imply she had taken steps to get rid of the heir from Italy?”

“I could not tell if she knew what she was saying, but we do have Roderick to find.”

Simon groaned. This day was turning out to be far worse by the hour. “I suppose it is a mercy she is gone.”

Trafford licked his lips. “I know it sounds cruel, old chap, but I believe it spares your family from further disgrace. The duke and his family can rest assured that justice has been done. Your brother may recover his health in peace. Lady Blackwood’s final act is a kindness to all concerned.”

Simon turned around and began to climb the steps back to his mother’s rooms. “How bad will it be?”

“I think the duke can convince the authorities to settle Lord Filminster’s death without another inquest. Rumor will run its course, but I doubt the Home Office will wish to publicize a case already resolved. If handled delicately, perhaps we can have this declared … an accidental overdose?”

It would indeed be a boon to the Scotts if the duke would assist them to quiet the scandal sure to be unleashed. They continued their climb in silence, ascending much slower than their hasty descent as a sign of respect to the dead. He was not sure if his mother deserved it, but he was grateful that nothing more was said until they reached her drawing room to lay her out on the chaise lounge after Trafford had removed the journals.

Simon took the time to pose her as she had been in the bedchamber, guessing she had taken pains to look her best for when her body was discovered.

Stepping back, he studied her for several moments with a numb sort of sadness before collecting a blanket from her room to cover her up. She had done monstrous things … unforgivable things … but she had been his mother nonetheless.

There would be time for arrangements later. For now, there was still one more thread to follow. The man who had helped her commit these crimes.

It made him ill to think about it. They had not known each other very well. Isla Scott had risked everything, murdered a man, tried to murder his brother and Madeline, to ensure Simon inherited, while he had long wished for another life without duty to a title and entailments to take care of. He would choose Madeline over inheritance under any circumstances, and it was his dearest hope that she would be all right, his fears for her health persisting despite Lady Trafford’s assurances. She had consumed a considerable quantity of arsenic based on the severity of her symptoms.

“So where would a crazed, infatuated footman hide after he has poisoned an innocent woman?”

Trafford gaze shifted toward the far side of the room. “Well … should that window be open?”