Page 19 of A Lesson in Scandal (Tales from The Burnished Jade #1)

Chapter Nineteen

The hum of quiet conversation drifted through the Clarendon’s refined dining room. While others sipped wine, laughed and spoke about a play or an aunt’s upcoming birthday, Reid and Turner discussed death and morbidity.

During three courses, neither mentioned Sofia.

Reid sensed his friend’s hostility and didn’t want to make matters worse. It was impossible not to smile when talking about his wife. Love flowed through him in warm waves at the mere thought of her. And guilt ate away at him every time he met Turner’s gaze across the table.

Tension stretched between them.

So tight it was liable to snap.

He’d planned to ask Turner to become his partner, yet something stopped him from making the offer.

Perhaps Turner still grieved the loss of his father.

Perhaps jealousy ate away at him, along with festering resentment.

“What’s your view of Hickman?” Reid said, keen to discover if losing their secretary was the cause of Turner’s disquiet.

“We’ve been carrying him for too long.” The coldness in Turner’s voice embodied the noticeable change in him. A change that had grown more profound this passing week. “I’ll source a replacement.”

It seemed Turner had forgotten who owned the practice. “Pick four candidates, and I’ll conduct the interviews.”

Turner caught himself and nodded. “Of course.”

The awkward air returned.

Reid considered calling it a night and venturing to The Burnished Jade rather than Porretta’s Bathhouse. Hopefully, Turner’s mood would mellow once things returned to normal.

“Will you excuse me a moment?” Reid placed his napkin on the table and headed to the elegant retiring room to use the pot and gather his thoughts. He caught a waiter and asked for the bill.

Upon his return, he found Turner’s spirits oddly lifted.

“It’s been months since we lounged in a mineral bath at Porretta’s and put the world to rights.” Turner reached for his wine, taking a long sip as he reminisced. “It will do us good to relax and make plans for the future.”

Such was the improvement in his colleague’s mood, one might think Turner had taken a swig of opium in Reid’s absence.

“This last year has been hard for us both. Your father’s passing left a void no man can fill.” Reid had lost a friend and confidant. A brilliant teacher who had encouraged him where his own family had failed.

“I remember the day we met.” Turner clinked his glass with Reid’s, a cue for them to finish their beverages. “My father invited you to dinner, and I inherited an older brother overnight.”

Reid smiled. “I dined with you every day for months.”

He’d been eager to escape his grandfather’s house. The arguments about choosing medicine as a career proved draining.

“I used to stand at the study door, straining to listen to your private conversations. They always sounded so fascinating.”

Reid’s heart softened at the memory. “Your father was the perfect mentor. I trusted his opinion and would not be the man I am today without his support.”

Turner looked at Reid over the crystal rim. “He always said you had an insight most men lacked. It’s why he trusted you with his scientific journals. Though I wish he’d mentioned you were to inherit them. I would have spent hours taking notes.”

Reid thought it an odd thing to say. “He left them in my care, but they’re for our mutual benefit. I expect you’ll take them when you open your own practice.”

The waiter came with the bill, and after a polite tussle with Turner over who should pay, Reid said, “It’s the least I can do after the stress I’ve caused this week.”

Turner thanked him and offered to pay next time. “I’ll visit the retiring room while you finish your wine.” He stood, lingering a second too long before striding out of the dining room.

The backward glance fed Reid’s suspicions.

An odd feeling formed in his chest. It prickled the hairs on his nape, had his stomach performing somersaults.

He looked at Turner’s empty wine glass and noted his own was full when he was sure he’d taken more than a sip before leaving the table.

The tavern wench’s words echoed in his mind.

O’Connor saw the devil adding something to his wife’s wine.

Had Turner added something to Reid’s wine?

The man had access to the patient list and the laudanum tinctures.

Was Turner the devious Mr Fellows?

He dismissed the notion, almost laughing to himself at the mere suggestion. Turner had no motive. They were friends and colleagues. And Mrs Ludgrove could identify him. She wouldn’t have sent them on a wild goose chase.

Still, Reid reached for his wine and took the tiniest sip.

The slight bitter taste was barely noticeable.

Yet it was enough to have Reid reach for the hip flask in his pocket. He downed what was left of the brandy. With a surgeon’s steady hand, he filled it with wine, accidentally spilling some on his dark trousers. Quickly replacing the stopper, he tucked the flask in his pocket just before Turner returned.

The man gestured to the mouthful of wine left in Reid’s glass. “Are you drinking that, or shall we head to Porretta’s?”

Reid stood, finishing the last drop and gesturing for Turner to lead the way. He drew his handkerchief from his pocket and dribbled the remnants of the wine into the cotton square.

On the short walk to the bathhouse, they discussed Hickman’s betrayal, with Turner admitting he wasn’t shocked.

“Hickman shakes less when you’re out on calls.”

“I’ll admit, I pitied the man.” Having Hickman act as Reid’s secretary served a purpose. He’d seemed adept at administering medicines until Sofia took over the dispensary, and her skills put Hickman to shame.

Turner chuckled. “My father always said a soft heart carries a heavy burden. I suspect it’s how you’ve found yourself lumbered with a wife.”

Reid clenched his fists at his sides. “I love my wife,” he snapped, regretting it instantly. Sofia deserved to be the first to hear his declaration. “She is by no means a burden.”

He sensed Turner’s animosity, but his colleague disguised it. “I meant no disrespect. It’s just you were adamant you’d never marry.”

“I said I would never marry for love after witnessing the disastrous end of my parents’ marriage.” He thought about Edmund’s letters and his hint things were not as they seemed. Perhaps there was a clue amongst them that might explain what went wrong. “But we cannot help who we love.”

“She’s a remarkable woman.”

“Yes.” Reid wobbled a little. If Turner had drugged him, he would be showing symptoms by now. If Turner was innocent, he’d assume the wine had gone to Reid’s head. “My mother would have loved Sofia. She had a good understanding of medicinal herbs, too.”

While Reid fought a pang of regret, Turner made a surprising revelation. “I’m told her father thought dabbling in herbs was ungodly. A sin akin to witchcraft.”

It was news to him.

“Sofia said her father supported her hobby.” He deliberately tripped on the corner of a flagstone, blaming the potent wine.

“I was referring to your mother, Diana.”

Time stilled for a moment.

“Has my grandfather been gossiping again?” he said, feigning indifference but wanted to grab Turner by the throat and demand to know his game.

Turner’s laugh lacked genuine mirth. “No, my father knew her through her charitable work at the hospital. They attended many of the same functions and became friends.”

“He never mentioned it to me.”

“Perhaps he wanted to avoid rousing sad memories.”

They reached Porretta’s Bathhouse, giving Reid time to cool his temper.

The entrance featured grand stone columns and a triangular pediment, evoking the elegance of Roman architecture. Hanson, the burly attendant, met them in the foyer. The smell of earthy minerals and exotic oils relaxed a man before he entered the bathing chamber.

Reid motioned for Turner to follow the attendant. “Undress and give Hanson your valuables while I pay and sign the register.” He planned to write a note and send it to Rothley at The Jade.

Turner insisted on paying. “You bought dinner. Allow me to return the kindness.”

Reid followed Hanson into the changing area—a place with pretty mosaic walls and stone benches. He was undressing when Turner entered and handed him a token for the storage chests.

They gave Hanson their tokens in exchange for plush cotton towels and use of the locked wooden boxes, then headed into the bathhouse.

The large pool—a labyrinth of stone and pale blue mosaic—twisted into secluded alcoves beneath an arched ceiling and the dim glow of candlelight.

Reid headed left, entering a hidden sanctuary. He sat on the edge of the mineral pool and lowered himself into the warm water. “I can’t risk using the steps,” he joked. “My head is so fuzzy, I’ll likely slip and split my skull.”

“At least there’s a doctor at hand.”

They settled into the rectangular-shaped pool occupied by two other men who passed pleasantries. When the men left, Reid returned to the topic of his mother. If Turner was framing him for murder, he had to know why.

“Did your father mention my mother often?” Reid slurred the odd word for effect. If laudanum had been added to the wine, he’d need to feign sleep soon. “I find it odd he never spoke about knowing her.”

Turner relaxed back, spreading his arms out over the pool’s edge. “Probably because he was in love with her and thought it might be awkward. My mother was still alive, and he never pursued the matter, even when your father was serving abroad. He hoped patience would reap the rewards. Then your mother died, and he spiralled into an odd melancholy that lasted a year.”

Reid did not need to pretend to look stupefied.

He sat, mouth open, inhaling the steam.

“Why do you think my father pushed me out and took you under his wing?” Turner’s laugh sounded hollow. “You were a gift from the gods. An idol he could worship in her absence.”

Reid closed his eyes, absorbing the information.

Turner mistook his calm composure for drowsiness. All the horrid thoughts raging inside him burst forth in a torrent.

“I didn’t know the extent of it until my father died and I read his private journal. You’re the son he wanted. You’re the son he pretended was his because, in his warped mind, it made him feel closer to your mother. I was tossed away like scraps in the gutter.”

Reid breathed deeply. “Did my mother return his affections?”

He knew the answer like he knew his own name.

“No. But fate offered Father a boon. One that had disastrous consequences. That’s the price one pays for meddling.”

“You’re not making sense.” Reid closed his eyes again and let his head loll back. “Forgive me. I don’t feel well. My mind is hazy. It must be the wine.”

Turner chuckled. “We’ve got drunk together many times. It’s never affected you this badly before.”

“I downed the last glass too quickly,” Reid mumbled. The best way to discover the truth was to pretend he was losing consciousness.

A lengthy silence ensued.

Turner sank deeper into the mineral bath, inhaling the steam and closing his eyes as the water soothed his limbs.

Reid pretended to sleep, too, but suddenly blinked as if waking from a stupor. “What’s the price?” he garbled.

“The price?”

“For m-meddling.”

Turner exhaled a long, weary breath. “When your father died, your mother took to her bed, distraught. She asked my father to collect his personal effects because she was too weak to take the strain.”

Reid heard the statement clearly.

A sickening sense of dread roiled inside him.

Somehow he knew what was coming next.

A twisted grin flickered across Turner’s face. “He slipped a letter into your father’s belongings. If he could break their bond, he might win her affections. That’s the pathetic comment written by your precious mentor. Then she died, and he spent the rest of his life ignoring me and pandering to you.”

Reid slapped his hand to his mouth, nausea rising. His mother died of a broken heart, a symptom made worse by his father’s betrayal. All these years, he’d despised his father and worshipped his mentor.

It was all a lie.

Believing the end was nigh, Turner made a damning statement. “It’s a shock, I know, but it will all be over soon. I’ll have the practice my father helped you build. I’ll have your wife. And the debt you owe me will be repaid.”

Sofia sat in Lord Rothley’s imposing black carriage, wringing her hands as the vehicle charged along The Strand, heading for Pall Mall. Panic had her jigging her leg. Her heart galloped so fast it hammered against her ribcage.

Mr Dalton thumped the carriage roof and called to Lord Rothley’s coachman. “Head for Porretta’s, not the Clarendon. Hurry, man!” He remained perched on the edge of the seat, his rage evident in the ceaseless grinding of his teeth.

“What if they’re still at the Clarendon?” she said.

“It’s easier to kill a man in a mineral bath than a packed dining room. You’re sure Turner is the devil who’s trying to ruin Gentry, not that moron he calls a cousin?”

“I’m certain, though Mr Turner’s motive is unclear.” She’d spent many hours with the doctor and found him helpful and polite. He treated Reid like an elder brother. Thus his sudden hostility left her baffled.

“Nothing surprises me anymore.” Lord Rothley spoke like a true cynic, his cold tone slicing the air. “If Turner has harmed a hair on Gentry’s head, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

A sickening thought entered her mind. “He will have added something to Reid’s wine during dinner.” Criminals were creatures of habit. “A subdued man might easily drown in a bathhouse. Murder will look like an accident.” She slapped her hand to her mouth, fearing they were already too late. “Convince me it won’t end like this.”

The marquess’ dark, knowing eyes said to fear the worst. “I’m a doomsayer. Experience has led me to expect disaster.”

“This time I pray you’re wrong.”

Sofia gripped the overhead strap as the vehicle swerved into St James’ Street. It came to a crashing halt outside the Roman-inspired bathhouse.

Mr Dalton alighted first. He didn’t offer his hand but gripped Sofia by the waist, lifting her to the pavement.

“We won’t tear through Porretta’s like crazed imbeciles,” Lord Rothley instructed. “We’ll use gentle persuasion to gain entrance. You’ll have to wait in the foyer, Mrs Gentry.”

“There’s more chance of Lucifer appearing on a three-headed dragon.”

Mr Dalton snorted. “I’ll use my cravat to cover your eyes, Mrs Gentry.”

“I’m a student of anatomy, sir. I’m not afraid to walk through a bathhouse full of naked men. Now please hurry.”

Lord Rothley spoke to the gentleman behind the large marble desk, his tone firm and dangerously polite. “We have reason to believe a crime is in progress.” He slapped his calling card and a few sovereigns on the counter and asked to see the register.

The man obliged. Not because greed had him eyeing the gold but because the marquess leaned over the desk and snarled like he might rip out the man’s jugular with his teeth.

The marquess noted the entries before whirling around. “Gentry is here, but not with Turner. According to the register, he arrived with Algernon.”

Sofia frowned. “How odd.”

Mr Dalton approached the marble counter. “We’re checking the bathhouse. Summon a constable.”

After a brief argument with a burly attendant in the dressing room, with Mr Dalton warning he had knocked out men twice his size, the fellow let them pass.

“We won’t charge into the bathhouse yelling at the top of our lungs,” she said, creeping across the tiled floor. “We’ll assess the situation and determine if Reid is in danger.”

“I agree.” Lord Rothley quickly slipped his hand over her eyes when they met two naked men drying themselves with towels. “Dalton, we proceed with caution.”

The bathhouse looked empty, though the air was thick with mineral-scented steam. She heard the soft hum of conversation, but the stone pools ran through the underground cavern like a maze, and the dim candlelight made it impossible to locate the source.

Then she heard a voice she recognised.

She gestured towards a secluded pool on her left, partially hidden behind a bricked arch, and whispered, “I hear Mr Turner.” He was the villain because he’d signed Algernon’s name in the register.

They crept closer.

Sweat gathered on her brow, and the cavern felt suddenly smaller.

Her heart stuttered when she heard Reid’s incoherent reply. Mr Turner must have drugged the wine to subdue him.

“Your father took everything from me,” Reid mumbled. “I’ve paid my dues and owe you nothing.”

“Do you know what it’s like spending endless nights thinking how you might make your father proud?” Mr Turner countered. “You stole my family.”

“And your father s-stole mine.”

Reid sounded unwell.

“And so you thought to discredit me,” Reid stated.

She raised her skirts, ready to race to her husband’s aid, but the marquess caught her wrist. “Wait. Gentry means to drag the truth from Turner. We need to give him another minute.”

Mr Dalton hid behind the stone wall, waiting for a cue to charge.

“I knew you’d begin to wonder if your tinctures were killing your patients.” Mr Turner’s arrogant tone sounded so unlike him. “When you started gathering evidence in the room upstairs, I knew it would drive you mad, and the coroner would eventually become suspicious.”

Reid made no reply.

He had neglected the practice, helping Mr Turner to take control in his absence. Heavens, he’d even decided to make the man his partner.

Anger erupted in her veins. She wanted to air her disgust, but the marquess held her in his steely grip.

“Then you made a mistake.” Reid sounded weak and drowsy. “O’Connor saw you drug Mrs Ludgrove and blackmailed you. You couldn’t risk him telling anyone and saw another way to get rid of me.”

Mr Turner’s sinister chuckle chilled her blood.

“The fool didn’t see me coming. I’ve always been good with a scalpel, not that my father noticed. Apparently, I lacked your steady hand.”

“You poured laudanum into my wine.” Reid’s words were barely audible now. “The magistrate knows that someone … someone is trying to implicate me. If I drown here, he’ll know you were with me.”

“Will he? Algernon signed the register. His scorecard was at the murder scene. People recognised his boots. He bought laudanum, and we look alike. He wants Bretton Hall. You’ve told me so yourself.”

Mr Turner had planned this with meticulous precision.

Sofia’s chest tightened. Her thoughts spun wildly. She tugged the marquess’ hand, urging him to act. They needed to keep Reid awake and administer a saltwater emetic.

“But we were like brothers,” Reid said.

Tears filled her eyes. Her heart wept for him.

“You’re the brother I didn’t want,” Mr Turner snapped. “Hickman told me about the wager at White’s. It made it easier to cover my tracks.”

“Not entirely,” Lord Rothley said with an aristocrat’s aplomb. He stepped out from the shadows, pulling Sofia with him. “You made the mistake of courting Mrs Ludgrove. She didn’t die like you hoped.”

Mr Turner stared, disbelief in his eyes. His mouth dropped open when Mr Dalton entered the chamber and threatened to gut him like a fish.

That’s when Mr Turner launched himself at Reid, grabbing him around the throat, promising to choke him and drag him under.

Reid lacked the strength to fight.

“He’s barely conscious. You’ll do as I say if you want him to live.” The wild dart of Mr Turner’s eyes betrayed his desperation. “Get into the pool. All of you. Use the steps at the far end. Hurry before I drown him.”

“Perhaps the steam has affected your eyesight,” the marquess said darkly. “You’re outnumbered, Turner. You’ll leave this bathhouse in shackles. Assuming I don’t kill you first.”

Sofia stepped forward. “Please, Mr Turner. Whatever madness has seized you, the man I know wouldn’t be so cold and callous.”

Mr Turner blinked like he had grit in his eyes. “You should have told me about the Merricks. I would have married you. Then I might have been satisfied with ruining him.”

Sofia sat on the side of the pool and lowered herself slowly into the water, which thankfully only came up to her waist. Her skirts ballooned.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” She looked at Reid, not Mr Turner, a sob catching in her throat. Had he drunk too much laudanum? Was he seconds away from closing his eyes forever? Would this moment be their last? “I married Mr Gentry because I was in love with him. I am madly in love with him. There will never be another man for me.”

“You hardly know him,” Mr Turner countered.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” She held Reid’s gaze and took a few tentative steps. Fear for the future wrapped around her heart like a strangling vine. “I have known him forever. Every insignificant moment in my life has brought me closer to finding him.”

“Let Gentry go,” Lord Rothley cried.

“It’s too late.” Mr Turner’s tight expression held a hint of regret. “When the tincture takes full effect, I doubt he’ll wake.”

Her anguish left her in a pained sob. “Why? He’s never hurt anyone.” She clutched her abdomen as she inched through the water. “Let him go. He doesn’t deserve your wrath.”

Reid stared at her like his heart was breaking, too. “There’s no need to cry, Sofia. Fate has other plans for us.” He slipped his fingers around Mr Turner’s forearm. “Thank heavens for Annie. It’s how I knew not to drink the wine.”

As quick as she absorbed the information, Reid bit Mr Turner’s arm and then elbowed him in the abdomen. “You’ll hang for what you’ve done,” he growled, grabbing the devil and forcing his head under the water.

A struggle ensued—a wild thrashing in the pool.

Reid punched Mr Turner on the nose, the spurt of blood streaking the water crimson. The men grappled, but Reid was the stronger of the two, delivering a sharp blow to Mr Turner’s chin that sent him plunging to the bottom of the pool.

Being a man of action, Mr Dalton jumped into the water and hauled Mr Turner out. That’s when the constable arrived with the attendant, and Lord Rothley eloquently explained what had occurred.

Reid didn’t seem to care what happened outside the pool. He stared at Sofia as they raced towards each other in the water.

Her throat tightened. Tears welled again as she threw herself into his arms. “I thought I’d lost you.” She clung to him, gripping his wet body and refusing to let go. “I thought it was the end of us.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies pressed so tightly together that their breaths rose and fell as one. “I owe Annie and Doyle my life. If they hadn’t mentioned the wine … I …”

“It doesn’t matter now.” She clasped his cheeks in her hands, drawing his mouth to hers and kissing him wildly.

The man’s lips were as potent as opium. The desire to feel pleasure, not pain, was a persistent pounding in her blood.

“My father never had a mistress.” He spoke like the knowledge had restored his faith in life, in love. “One lie caused untold damage. Turner gave me no cause to doubt him, but jealousy is like a poison that rots a man’s mind. Secrets destroy relationships.”

She swallowed past the knot in her throat. She had to declare her feelings properly this time. “I’ve kept a secret from you.”

A slow, sensual smile tugged his lips. “That you’re madly in love with me? Or was that a ploy to distract Turner and buy some time?”

It was impossible to convey what she felt in her heart. “Everything I said was true. I’m so desperately in love with you, Reid. I was afraid to tell you. I know you want a convenient marriage, but?—”

“I want you, Sofia. I wanted you before you begged me to hire you.” He claimed her lips, the kiss a languorous mating. “I love you. I should have told you earlier at The Jade. God knows the words have danced on my tongue all day.”

“They have?” She blinked back tears of happiness.

“I know what true love looks like. Now I know how it feels. I came close to losing everything tonight.” He hung his head. The realisation of what might have been overwhelmed him.

She brushed her hand through his damp hair in soft, reassuring strokes. “We love each other, Reid. That’s a blessing. A reason to celebrate. I never thought I’d marry a man I admire, let alone one I love to distraction.”

Lord Rothley cleared his throat. “I’m accompanying Turner and the constable to Bow Street. You need to dress and meet us there. Dalton will return with my carriage. Might I suggest you find dry clothes, Mrs Gentry, before you catch a chill?”

“I’m sure the doctor has a cure for all her ailments,” Mr Dalton joked as the men lingered at the poolside.

Reid thanked them for having the foresight to come to the bathhouse. “I’m the brother Turner didn’t want. The grandson the viscount finds unworthy. Thank God you value my friendship.”

“There’s no time to wallow in self-pity,” Lord Rothley said. “That’s my domain. And as much as we love you, we came on your wife’s insistence. I’m sure you’ll thank her properly later. Now, get out of the pool. Public displays of affection should be outlawed.”

The men left when the constable called them.

“We could spend a few more minutes here,” Reid suggested. “We would both appreciate the healing power of the minerals.”

She smiled. “Perhaps we might return and hire the private room you mentioned that caters to married couples.”

Desire darkened his eyes. “I’ll book a pool for a night next week. And now our problems are over, we should treat ourselves to a stay at the Adelphi.”

“I can hardly wait.”

Although an erotic vision of them making love raised her pulse, something else niggled deep in her gut. A disturbing feeling warning her their troubles were far from over.