Page 100 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
Almost.
She still had to deal with Somerdale.
Chapter 24
“He took his own life?” Somerdale was standing in the front parlor in his nightclothes, dressing gown, and slippers, his blond hair sticking up at odd angles.
Phee had been rather surprised to find him home and not out carousing. It would have been easier had he been up to his usual escapades. She might have avoided having to explain Drake’s presence.
Her brother narrowed his eyes and gave Drake a pointed look. “And how was it you happened to be there?”
“As I tried to explain,” Phee began, “Auntie wasn’t improving and Wigmore wouldn’t allow me to bring her to London. I thought Drake could manage to convince him otherwise.”
“Uncle said you’d run off.”
“I suppose he wanted drama. I don’t know. I did leave for a few days, but I hardly ran off. I went to the local village, because he was being quite impossible to deal with and I was frustrated. Then it occurred to me that I simply needed some muscle, so I sent for Drake.”
“Why not send for me?” Somerdale sounded peevish and hurt. She was really too weary to deal with his pride.
“When have you ever stood up to Uncle?”
Somerdale scowled. She had him there and he knew it. “But why would Darling care what you wanted? Why would he traipse out in the middle of the night?”
“Because she is Grace’s friend,” Drake said. “Stop trying to analyze everything, Somerdale. You’ll only give yourself a headache.”
“It’s just odd that you were asking after her no more than a week ago, and now when she needs you, here you are. I fear something else might be afoot here. Did you take advantage of my sister?”
“He did not,” Phee said. “Now will you please send for Dr. Graves so he can examine Auntie? Or shall I have Drake do that as well? She’s quite ill.”
Somerdale scrubbed his hands up and down his face. “No, no need to involve Darling further. I shall see to it.”
As soon as he left the room to search out a footman, she turned to Drake. “I’m grateful for your assistance tonight. But you need not stay any longer.”
His gaze slowly roamed over her face as though he was striving to etch every line and curve into his memory. “He’s going to keep asking you questions.”
“I can handle Somerdale. I have since I was born.”
He nodded. “I shall miss having you in my residence.”
She almost confessed that she was going to miss being there, but the wound of his betrayal was still fresh and she was confused regarding her feelings toward him. Where he was concerned, a whirlwind of emotions rocked her: gratitude for his assistance, anger at his betrayal, passion, desire, hurt. She didn’t know if she had the wherewithal to sort it all out.
“I never—” he began, halted, shook his head. “I was going to say that I never meant to hurt you, but of course that’s a lie. You always thought I was beneath you and I proved you right. I’m sorry, Phee. Sorry for more than I can say.”
He walked out of the room, out of her life. Tall, strong, proud.
And she, who had never wept during the most horrendous moments of her life, sank into a chair and wept, feeling bereft and confused.
“Arsenic,” Dr. Graves said. Phee, Somerdale, and Graves were standing in the hallway outside the room where Auntie Berta slept. “Definitely signs of slow arsenic poisoning.”
“Will she recover?” Phee asked.
“Quite possibly. It depends on how much he was giving her and for how long, what damage may have been done to her organs. We’ll need to keep a close watch over her.”
“Wigmore said she’d begun to improve.”
Graves shrugged. “Perhaps guilt began to get the better of him and he stopped.”
Phee wondered if there had ever been a more reprehensible friend than Wigmore.
