The Untamed Mackenzie

trial. Not enough justice for them, I think, but it will have to do. A man of your standing might wriggle out of a charge of indecent behavior, even sexual assault, but I intend to see you go down for murder.”

Lloyd’s voice was quiet but held the weight of authority. Sir Richard was furious, but he was down now. He couldn’t fight.

Louisa, still drunk with sedative, raised her head and curled her lip. “You are disgusting,” she said clearly. Then she found herself rushing back down to the table. “Oh, my.” She reached for Lloyd and held his hand when he gave it to her. “I think I’ll sleep now.”

Lloyd kissed her forehead, his rough whiskers brushing her skin. “I’ll be with you when you wake.”

And he was.

Chapter Seventeen

“You must explain all to us, dear Lloyd,” Eleanor said from her place at the foot of the table.

A Mackenzie family dinner was taking place at the Duke of Kilmorgan’s mansion on Grosvenor Square several days after their return from Newmarket. A family dinner meant all the Mackenzies, including Fellows and Daniel, Louisa, and Fellows’ mother.

They dined informally, no place settings to conform to. The guests could sit where they chose, with whom they chose. The only structure to the table was that Hart sat at the head, Eleanor at its foot.

Ian claimed the chair next to Beth, Daniel was with his father and stepmother, and Mrs. Fellows sat next to Louisa, delighting in every moment of the gathering. She was highly pleased with Fellows’ choice of bride and kept smiling broadly at Louisa.

“I knew he had good taste,” she said. “You are the sweetest little thing, Louisa. You do know that?”

When Eleanor demanded the story, the rest of the table quieted. Fellows, on Louisa’s other side, calmly laid down his fork.

“Louisa’s hatpin,” he said.

They waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, Daniel said, “What are we supposed to understand from that? Play fair, Uncle Fellows. You have to tell the less clever of us what that means.”

Fellows didn’t smile, but Louisa could see he was enjoying teasing them all. He took a sip of wine, gave Daniel an acknowledging nod, and went on.

“When I saw Louisa sticking hatpins into her hat, it gave me the idea. If someone coated a pin or needle with a poison and stuck it into someone, perhaps that person might not die instantly, especially if it was a low enough dose. Or if the pin had been coated with a sedative instead of a poison, the victim might simply grow sick or perhaps fall unconscious. If Sir Richard Cavanaugh spoke to Hargate before he went into the tea tent, perhaps clapped him on the shoulder or shook his hand, he’d have the opportunity to stick something into him surreptitiously. Cavanaugh, as a doctor, would have needles at his disposal. Hargate begins to grow ill in the tea tent. Louisa runs out for the doctor. Cavanaugh comes to investigate, finds Hargate on the ground. A final prick of prussic acid finishes the job, or perhaps Cavanaugh poured it into Hargate’s mouth while he examined him. He had the prussic acid in his doctor’s bag, in a little bottle, along with his medicines and sedatives. He could also pretend to try to revive the man and wave the poison under his nose. Inhaling prussic acid can be just as deadly as imbibing it.”

“But it was in the teacup, wasn’t it?” Ainsley asked, puzzled. “The one Louisa handed to the bishop.”

Fellows shook his head. “Cavanaugh saw it lying broken on the ground. Easy for him to drop a little poison onto the pieces after the fact. He made certain to lecture us, the plodding policemen, on how prussic acid killed a man, and pointed out an obvious way Hargate could have taken the poison. He also had a suspect at hand—Lady Louisa, whose father had swindled Hargate. Hargate was still demanding repayment from her family, and perhaps told Cavanaugh of his plan to ask her to marry him in exchange for forgiving the debt. Or Hargate told someone else, and Cavanaugh heard the gossip. In any case, Hargate was blackmailing Cavanaugh over Cavanaugh’s practice of sedating women and taking advantage of them. The poison found in the teacup would point to Louisa, as would the bottle Cavanaugh managed to slip into Louisa's pocket. If Hargate had been standing with someone else when he died, no doubt Cavanaugh would have found a way to point to them. That was an advantage of killing a man at a large gathering—so many handy suspects.”

“It is all so cruel,” Isabella said angrily. “Especially to Louisa. If I hadn’t been able to convince Mrs. Leigh- Waters to telegraph for you, the Richmond police would have arrested her.”

“I hope someone would have sent for me even if Isabella hadn’t telegraphed,” Lloyd said, giving the table a stern look.

“Of course we would have,” Daniel said. “You’re the best detective in the Yard.”

“Louisa is important to me.” Fellows slid his hand over Louisa’s. “Very important.”

“Which is why you moved heaven and earth to help her,” Daniel said. He grinned. “We tumbled to that.”

“A June wedding,” Isabella said. “Not much time to prepare, but Louisa will have the most beautiful gown and a lovely ceremony. All the trimmings. St. George’s, Hanover Square?”

“No,” Louisa said. “We’ve discussed it. A quiet family wedding is what we want. Not all of London gawping at us at a fashionable church. We’d like to marry either in Berkshire or at Kilmorgan. Just the family, Isabella.” Louisa gave her a severe look, then added one for the duchess. “Eleanor.”

Both ladies looked innocent. “You may trust us,” Isabella said. “We’ll give you exactly what you need. The world will be green with envy that they couldn’t attend.”

Louisa let out a sigh. “A quiet wedding, Izzy.”

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.”

Mac winked at Louisa across the table. “Don’t worry. I’ll rein her in if she gets too flighty.”

“I am not flighty, Mac Mackenzie,” Isabella said indignantly.

“Yes, you are, my sweet Sassenach.”

Isabella’s cheeks went prettily pink. She subsided, but Louisa knew she’d have to keep an eye on her sister. Isabella loved to come up with grand occasions.

“I won’t have a mansion to take you to,” Fellows said to Louisa as other conversations began again. “I have enough salary for a modest house, but not in the fashionable district. And no hordes of servants. One or two at most. Are you certain you don’t want to reconsider?”

Louisa leaned her head against his strong shoulder. “Those are practical things. We’ll work them out. I am so very good at being practical.”

Mrs. Fellows winked at Louisa. “Don’t worry, dear. I have plenty of dusters put aside you can borrow. And I’ll show you how to black a stove.”

“Mum,” Fellows said, half weary, half affectionate.

“I’m only teasing,” Mrs. Fellows said. “But the dusters will be handy.”

Lloyd didn’t look convinced, but Louisa would show him she’d be fine. She’d grown up with every luxury handed to her, but she’d learned how empty that luxurious life could be. Her father had used his money and position dishonorably, had betrayed his friends’ trust.

Louisa had discovered how to live simply once the money was gone, she and her mother staying alone in the dower house. It wasn’t money and a title that made one honorable, Louisa had learned, but one’s character and actions. And Lloyd had plenty of honor.

Ian alone hadn’t spoken throughout the meal. He’d listened to Lloyd’s explanation of Cavanaugh’s actions then gone back to eating without a word. Now he put his arm around Beth and kissed her hair.

“What do you think, Ian?” Louisa asked him across the table. “Lloyd and I will do well together, won’t we?”

Ian didn’t answer right away. The table quieted, waiting for Ian’s words of wisdom, but when it became clear he wasn’t ready to respond, they took up conversing again. The family had learned not to push him.

Finally Ian looked at Louisa. He met her eyes full on, warmth and intelligence in his gaze. “I believe he loves you.”

“I believe Ian’s right,” Fellows said quietly.