Page 40 of Never a Duchess
The perfumers were clearly in competition.
“The Frenchman is fit for Bedlam. It won’t surprise me if he is poisoning his own clientele. He means to blame me and have me shut down. Means to see his profits soar so he can settle his mounting debts.”
“Do you have any basis for your accusations?” Lillian asked, wondering why his rival would remove a popular perfume from sale if he cared about money.
Mr Valmary glanced at the two men packing away perfume bottles, then lowered his voice. “Someone took ill here two weeks ago. A customer suffered a seizure after smelling the samples. Baudelaire has threatened to put me out of business for years. He had to be responsible. Now he’ll think I acted out of vengeance.”
Lillian suspected both were guilty of spreading mistruths. This was not a case of vengeance, but of bitter rivals scrambling to get the upper hand.
“Where do ye manufacture the perfume?” Dounreay said.
“In our distillery at St Saviour’s Docks in Bermondsey.”
“At the docks?” Dounreay cast her a sidelong glance. “Does anyone named O’Malley work there?”
Was this a vital clue that connected both cases or a mere coincidence? Importers of exotic plants and oils would want a warehouse close to the Thames.
Mr Valmary drew his brows together in thought. “Not that I’m aware, but Mr Barbour is in charge and employs many men to assist in the process.” A sudden realisation had the man gasping. “You think Baudelaire paid someone to poison my perfumes?”
“’Tis possible.” Dounreay gave a casual shrug. “But we will leave the enquiries to the magistrate. I come merely to ensure nae one else suffers as MacTavish has.”
A crash behind them had the assistants shuffling back and covering their mouths and noses with their arms.
Glaring at the shards of broken glass, Mr Valmary muttered a curse. “Do you mean to kill us all? Baudelaire would like to see me flailing on the floor and frothing at the mouth.”
The duke flinched and recoiled. He gripped Lillian’s arm, pulling her back two feet or more. “We’ve nae more questions. Let’s pray the matter is resolved soon.”
“Let’s hope they send that blackguard Baudelaire back to France.” Mr Valmary brushed a lock of sable hair from his brow, his gaze softening as he perused her figure. “Give MacTavish my best. I would send a gift for his wife, but Lord knows, I wouldn’t want to make matters worse.”
Dounreay did not linger or offer a reply, but quickly ushered her out onto Old Bond Street as if they were escaping the Great Fire. He must have been holding his breath. So desperate to fill his lungs that he sucked in a mouthful of London’s noxious air.
Just like she couldn’t think about lifeless bodies pulled from the Thames, doubtless he did not want to consider the effects of poison.
Instead, she turned the conversation to something less personal. “I presume you didn’t want Mr Valmary to know we are investigating the incident.”
“There’s a turncoat in every camp. The assistant was too busy studying us, hence why he dropped the bottle.” He met her gaze, fear rippling in those dark pools. “I’ll nae place ye in danger.”
Lillian waited for him to look at her mouth. He did not. Evidently, the last comment was not part of the script.
Devon lowered the carriage window and reminded the duke he had an appointment with Roxburgh in Hanover Square.
Lillian was still trying to understand why Mr Daventry had persuaded them to act as enquiry agents, only to ruin everything by telling her brother.
“I’ll take my own carriage.” Dounreay pointed to the elegant equipage parked behind Devon Masters’ vehicle.
“What will you say to him?” Disappointment sat like a heavy weight in her chest. She had assumed they would ride together.
How had it come to this? How had a woman who avoided intimacy become emotionally entangled with this man?
“I’ll tell Roxburgh the truth,” Dounreay said, sending panic slicing through her as he handed her into Devon’s carriage. “Protecting ye will always be my priority.”
And then he closed the door, abandoning her to her friends.
Lillian pressed her nose to the window and watched him stride towards his conveyance. There were two ways he could protect her. Offer marriage or leave London and agree never to see her again.
Both options proved frightening.
Whenever he left for Scotland, she threw herself into a new project. Her love of Ancient Egypt stemmed from a desire to banish Dounreay from her mind. That was before they’d shared a heated kiss in Lady MacTavish’s drawing room. Lord knows what she would do now!
