Page 28 of Her Notorious Rake
“To snare him. If we do not, we are lost, my dear niece.”
“Lost,” Celeste breathed.
“Yes. All of this. He will tire of us, and turn us out, but only as long as he does not attach himself to you. Then you will not lose all your pretty dresses, your fine carriages.”
Celeste hummed softly, twining a golden curl around her finger. “He wouldn’t do such a thing to us, would he? We are his family.”
“Hardly. He knows that his father and I never got along. And he holds it against me, I am certain.”
“Surely not,” Celeste cried.
“It is so.”
“Oh, Uncle—”
“You must, as soon as you can.”
“Uncle—”
“Celeste? Ernest?” Adelaide’s voice was soft, full of bewilderment. Almost slurring.
Ernest jumped, casting his niece a frantic look. Had hissister-in-law heard everything? How long had she been in here?
He surveyed her, from her white face to her glassy eyes. It would seem she’d just dosed herself again with the tonic. The tonic Ernest had only just managed to bribe the physician into giving her. But everyone, Ernest knew, could be bought. It just depended on learning their price.
Adelaide pressed a hand to her face, blinking rapidly. “What—what are you doing in here?” she stammered.
Ernest swore inwardly, nearly grimacing. Perhaps he would be required to have her served a hearty spoonful of the tonic in her mulled wine. It would render her catatonic within the hour. His dear brother had sought that same tonic before his own untimely death. And once again, it would prove mercifully rewarding. The poor woman was beside herself with grief, of course. And Ernest’s tonic was a wondrous relief for her sleepless nights, or the ones wracked by night terrors.
The tonic assuaged her torment. Was that not a boon?
“Dear Lord, you must get some rest,” he cried, hastening towards her and escorting her from the room. “Hastings!” he barked out, and Adelaide’s maid hastened down the hall.
“Forgive me, my lord. She must have slipped from her room.”
“Did I not tell you to keep a close watch on her as she slept? She is prone to night terrors, as you know,” Ernest said severely.
The young woman flinched. “But of course, my Lord. Forgive me, my Lord. ‘It will not happen again.”
“I should hope not!” Ernest straightened his coat, watching as the maid guided Adelaide up hall towards the stairs.
“When should I attempt to…ah…” Celeste’s voice shook.
“Tomorrow. We must not waste any time. Now, give me a kiss and go on to bed.”
“Yes, Uncle.” Celeste darted over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and hastened out of the small, back parlor. It was close tothe door leading to the garden, and it did not see frequent use. But it proved a perfect place to speak with his niece in private—at least until tonight. But Adelaide walked as if she were half-asleep. The maid must have given her some of the tonic again. They would have to increase the dosage, as Adelaide’s tolerance to it must have risen.
He sank into the chair in front of the blazing fire, staring into the dancing flames. If it came to it, he would dispatch his sister-in-law, and nobody would suspect it. She’d been wilting away since his brother passed.
Everyone would believe that her health had at last slipped away. And it wouldn’t be too far-fetched.
Ernest knew one thing for certain. He did not need Adelaide encouraging Dalton’s interest in Gemma. So, it would not be the worst thing if she should pass quietly and painlessly.
***
Dalton lay on his bed, staring up at the canopy hanging above his bed. He slowly closed his eyes, his stomach churning. The glass of brandy he’d poured earlier sat, untouched, on his bedside table. He didn’t want it, even though he’d asked for it. Instead, he lay, his mind racing to the night of the opera, the alarming feelings Gemma stirred in him, like a swarm of writhing snakes in his belly. He couldn’t think of another way to describe it. It was unnerving, made him feel out of control. His head spun, his thoughts straying beyond his grasp. His mind continuously returned to Gemma, the memory of her smile, her laugh. The way her eyes sparkled up into his.
He rested his arm across his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. He scarcely knew the girl. But oh heavens, he wanted to. He wanted to more than anything he’d wanted before. He felt himself coming to life, like the garden after a long winter. Something in him ached for her. Ached in a way that wouldnot be soothed, not by liquor or the charms of a courtesan. Not by the satisfying weariness after a particularly long walk. He stood and paced across the room, before pausing with a sigh. He washed his face, splashing the water over his hot skin. At last he straightened, grasping the towel hanging nearby, and patted his face dry. Tossing the towel away, he stared at himself in the mirror.
