Page 129 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
Fawkes nodded. “Foxglove and a few other plants, mixed together with mint to disguise the taste.”
“So Fawkes didnae poison Bonkinbone,” Thorne burst out, “he poisoned himself!”
No one acknowledged the sentiment. Aye, it was technically the truth, but Bonkinbone only died because he’d trusted the tinctures Fawkes had provided.
Rourke was watching him with that frigid blue gaze thoughtful. “Unless MacMillan had a vendetta against Bonkinbone, I believe it’s safe to assume he did this under Blackrose’s orders.”
It wasn’t a question, but Fawkes nodded. He lifted one hand and brushed back the lock of hair which always seemed to fall across his forehead.
“Bonkinbone was Blackrose’s partner. I wasnae privy to his plans, but as I understood it, the Earl was in charge of making contacts, introducing his brother to men who were either desperate, or greedy enough, to pay for the information Blackrose offered. But when Blackrose decided he needed to purge his agents, so he couldnae be prosecuted…”
Ellie finished for him, the words a mere whisper, “He knew Father was the biggest threat of all.” When everyone in the room looked to her, inviting her to say more, she lifted her head to explain. “Do you not see? Father could doom his brother, if he ever had a reason to. He had information, knowledge, and that made him powerful. Blackrose must have known that, and must have known that he would never be able to stand against his older brother in court—not the word of an earl againsthim, even if the evidence was destroyed.”
Thorne was shaking his head. “They werepartners.”
“Och, right.” Demon thrust himself to his feet again and began to pace once more. “Because Blackrose issoloyal.”
“I am right, am I not?” Ellie directed her question to Fawkes. “Blackrose asked you to begin to poison Father before he left Britain. Likely while trying to kill his other agents?”
One side of Fawkes’s mouth was turned up, a wry sort of grin, although his eyes glowed with pride. He didn’t say anything, but his expression told her all she needed to know.
He’d called her brilliant, and now he was proud of her deductions.
“Well?” snapped Demon from the other side of the room. “Is she right about the timing?”
“She is,” Fawkes finally admitted. “Blackrose explained my duty before he fled to Canada. After his flight, I received his final instructions; make certain his brother died, and that it looked natural. If I did that, it would be my last assignment from him.”
“Duty,” repeated Rourke, tapping a long finger against his chin, musing on the choice of words.
But Thorne spoke up. “Itmust’vebeen yer last assignment, aye? I saw the letter from Blackrose—och, it was unsigned, but we all ken who it was. He said ye’re retired now.”
Fawkes settled back on his heels and rolled his shoulders. “Aye. The arsehole was true to his word, I suppose. As much as he can be trusted.”
“He cannae be trusted!” Demon bellowed.
In Georgia’s arms, the baby woke and began to fuss. She glared at her husband as she maneuvered Rosie to her shoulder to pat the wee bottom. “Demon…”
The huge, scarred man actually seemed admonished. “Och, I’m sorry, wee angel. Come to Papa,” he demanded, stalking across the room with his arms outstretched.
Since the baby was still fussing, Georgia made a point of giving him her shoulder playfully. “Did you wash your hands?” she mocked.
Demon’s lips twitched just before he reached out and took hold of his wife’s bun. He pulled her head back and dropped a hard kiss to her lips, all in the same moment. The kiss lasted long enough for Ellie to send an amused glance at Fawkes—who was staring up at the ceiling—then take in Thorne, who was grinning, and Rourke whose cheeks were flushed, before Demon broke away.
Georgia sighed happily as he took the baby from her unresisting arms.
Ellie began to snicker as her sister grinned. “I have to let him get his way occasionally,” she whispered. “Makes him feel in charge.”
To be fair, wee Rosiedidcalm right down as her father bounced her gently.
Rourke cleared this throat as if to draw them back to the discussion, and when he had their attention, carefully shifted one leg to the opposite knee. “MacMillan, ye were Blackrose’s poisoner. He used ye.”
Fawkes dipped his chin.
“But ye claim ye werenae loyal to him, as Wilson was.Butye didnae work for him because ye believed his lies about patriotism, either, the way we did.” He pierced the man with an icy stare. “Did he pay ye well? Is that why ye did his bidding?”
Thorne was the one who snorted. “I saw the man’spension. Stock certificates? The amount wouldnae keep him fed for a year, it was a shite retirement. Blackrose didnaepay, as we can all attest.”
Fawkes’s green gaze shot to Ellie, then away, as if he was hesitating before he finally confessed, “Nay, he didnae pay me well. There was barely enough to gather ingredients, which is why I worked for hire for others.”
