Page 44 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)
Caught up in her story, Mademoiselle DeRose needed no urging to continue. “The doctor said it would be hard to treat Her Grace, since the illness was so advanced. Her lungs were badly damaged, I suppose. Still, he prescribed a magical potion. And it seemed to help!”
“Indeed?” Valance’s hand raced to jot down notes. His writing, sloppier than usual, was barely legible even to him, but he wanted to capture the interview word-for-word. He was not sure where this story was going, but it sounded important.
“But then,” the maid continued, “the medicine the physician prescribed disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Valance repeated, confused. How could it disappear?
“I acted as her nurse, you understand. Because the duke, despite his wealth, would not hire a professional sickroom nurse.” She snorted at that.
“I gave her the medicine every four hours, as the physician ordered. But one night I got up to give the middle-of-the-night dose, and the potion was gone. We searched everywhere, but could not find it. And two days later, she died. The duke never sent for the physician again. Nor did he replace the missing medicine.”
“Hmm.” Valance had hoped to find more convicting evidence. A person could die of respiratory problems even with the best magical treatments, and the missing potion might not have saved her life anyway. “You think the duke deliberately took the medicine away to prevent her from recovering?”
“Yes,” the maid said bluntly. “He wanted to be rid of her. He did not want to be cuckolded.”
“What? What do you mean?” Valance asked sharply. “Was she unfaithful to him?” He had never heard so much as a hint about possible infidelity. The way gossip spread in the ton, he ought to have heard the rumor if there was any substance to it.
But Mademoiselle DeRose nodded. “She fell pregnant for the first time that autumn. It could not have been the duke’s child, because he was in Scotland for over a month before she missed her courses.
He was hosting a shooting party. He did not bring his wife to such entertainments, you understand.
They would not have been suitable for a lady. ”
“Ah.” In other words, men brought their mistresses to the shooting parties, or the host offered bawdy entertainments. Valance knew plenty of men who hosted such parties, but he had not known Belmont was one of them. Really, the more he learned about Belmont, the nastier the man seemed.
“Who was the child’s father, then?” If the duchess had a lover, that complicated things. There might have been more than one man with motive to kill her.
Mademoiselle DeRose bit her lip and glanced away.
“Her grace did not confide in me about her affaires. I have guesses, but I might be wrong. As they are only guesses, I had rather not say. The man I suspect is a good man who does not deserve to have his name dragged into a sordid story. I think, myself, that if he became Her Grace’s lover, it would have been out of pity.
The duke was not kind to her. Everyone knew that. ”
Valance bit back a bitter laugh. “Not kind” seemed like an understatement for the ages, given what he’d just heard. “So, the duke had motive to kill her,” he mused aloud.
He had wondered about that. No one had ever posited a reason why Belmont would have wanted his third wife to die. Indeed, given that he had no son to inherit his title and estate, he needed a young wife to bear his children.
When people discussed whether the duke had allowed his wife to die by neglect, they shrugged their shoulders and said he was a cold, hard, cruel man. All of which was undoubtedly true—but Valance thought Mademoiselle DeRose’s story explained more than it didn’t.
“Oh, he had motive.” Mademoiselle DeRose’s voice sounded hard as granite. “He could have divorced her, of course, to keep her child from inheriting. But perhaps he thought it was easier to let her die of her lung complaint. It would certainly be cheaper than a divorce.”
“Perhaps.” Knowing how vindictive the duke was, Valance wondered if vengeance played a role, too.
Even a duke could not necessarily get away with murder, so divorcing the duchess would have been a safer option.
But a man who would punish a girl who rejected him by targeting her beloved half-sister must have a vengeful streak a mile wide.
“Is there anything else I should know?” Valance asked.
She scowled fiercely. “I hope he pays for it. I was Her Grace’s maid before she married him, you know. There was a time when she was a bright, cheerful, lively young woman. He broke her, and when she betrayed him, he let her die so he could marry someone else.”
“I cannot promise that he will pay,” Valance warned her, “but we will do our best.” He thought of something else as he closed his notebook. “Would you be willing to testify to all of this in front of the local magistrate?” He ought, perhaps, have had a magistrate interview her in the first place.
She twisted the handkerchief into knots. “If His Grace finds out I have been talking . . .”
“Yes, you might be in danger.” Valance tapped his fingers on the cover of his notebook as he thought. Given Belmont’s past behavior, it was not unreasonable for Mademoiselle DeRose to fear his wrath. “Maybe we should hide you somewhere.”
He rubbed his face, suddenly feeling exhausted.
He had hoped to head home today, rather than lingering in Bath.
He did not like being apart from Honora.
But it would not be right to leave Mademoiselle DeRose in any danger.
If the duke found out the compulsion spell had been broken, he might use more violent means to silence the maid.
“I do not like to leave a good position, but it would be very easy for the duke to find me if he learns I have talked.” Her eyes widened with fear.
Valance sighed. “We will find a safe place for you. I promise to find new employment for you when this is over, too. Will you speak to the magistrate?”
She hesitated but ultimately nodded. “It is not right for men like Belmont to get away with such things. I will help you, for Her Grace’s sake.”
Valance silently hoped her testimony would be enough.
*
The magistrate who took Mademoiselle DeRose’s statement seemed to believe her, but he was not very sanguine about the outcome. “It would be difficult to prove criminal intent over a missing bottle of medication.” He warned Valance.
On top of that, prosecuting a duke for a crime was an enormous undertaking. A nobleman could only be judged by his peers, meaning the House of Lords. Valance very much doubted Mademoiselle DeRose’s story would be enough to convict Belmont. It might not even be enough to bring him to trial.
But if nothing else, Valance hoped to use this information to put pressure on Belmont. He was determined to make good on his promise to Honora and her family. He must protect them, and he must recover the mortgage to Grantly Manor—if he could.
Finding a safe house for the witness was more challenging than collecting her statement. Valance considered and dismissed several possibilities. In the end, he bethought himself of his mother’s younger sister, who lived near Bristol. They headed there the next day.
Mrs. Barrett proved perfectly willing to house Mademoiselle DeRose.
She ought to be safe enough with them. The Barretts only circulated with country gentry; they never came to London.
It was extremely unlikely that anyone who knew the duke would ever learn they had added a new French maid to their household.
Since the eldest Miss Barrett was making her debut that spring, no one would think anything odd about a new lady’s maid in the household.
Indeed, judging from how pleased the Barretts seemed with the prospect of a genuine French lady’s maid for their debutante, Valance thought it was possible that they would retain Mademoiselle DeRose even after the need for secrecy ended.
With his witness safely secured, Valance headed back to London. He had been gone for only a few days, but that seemed far too long. Some anxious part of him worried that something might yet interfere with their new-found happiness. Surely life was not meant to be so sweet? Not forever, at least.
He hoped that was nothing but superstition.