St. Evert dropped into the chair across from the bed. “No. It took a good deal more than missing her breakfast to do the job. What say you, Lady Elizabeth? Would you care to have a plate of eggs and fish brought to your room?”
The very thought made Elizabeth’s stomach lurch. She scrunched up her nose and turned her head, pressing a hand against her lips.
Valen addressed his aunt. “I believe that will have to pass for ‘Thank you very much, but no, I would prefer weak tea and toast.’”
Lady Alameda ignored him and demanded, “What happened? Where have you been?”
“Shopping,” Valen answered enigmatically.
Elizabeth rubbed her forehead, trying to make sense of it all. “How did we get back here?”
“I didn’t carry you the whole way if that’s what you’re worried about. I hired a hack.”
She turned up her nose again. “No wonder I smell so dreadful.”
He snorted, as if she were a silly child. “No, my dear. It would seem you and your brother have equally fragile stomachs. During the ride home, you would awaken screaming and, well... let us say, you ought to be deuced hungry. What little there was, is no longer with you.”
Egad!
She closed her eyes, horridly embarrassed. “Oh dear. I am not the sort who...”
“So you say.” He shrugged. “It is to be expected under the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Lady Alameda stamped her foot. “I expect a full report, Valen. I am not accustomed to being left in the dark in matters pertaining to members of my own household.”
“Your household only?” he quizzed her. “My dear aunt, you do not like to be in the dark concerning matters pertaining to anyone in England. Indeed, I was surprised you did not have one of your informers standing outside Smythe and Sons.”
Lady Alameda frowned at him. “Humph. How very amusing you are. I’ll see to arranging for Lady Elizabeth’s weak broth and toast, shall I?”
Elizabeth felt a gnawing in her stomach. “And jam? If you please?”
“How delightful. Her appetite appears to be returning.” Lady Alameda waved her fingers as she left the room.
Robert dashed into Elizabeth’s room as soon as Lady Alameda left, his hair tousled and his cuffs untied. “What’s all the racket about? Servants said there’d been an accident. Are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt.”
“Then what are you doing in bed at this hour? And in your street clothes?”
“A scold? From my slug-a-bed brother who prefers to sleep until noon?”
He ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “Well, something’s amiss. I know it. Had a dreadful night. Kept hearing screaming in my head.”
Valen stretched out his long legs and rested one hand behind his neck, massaging the base, as though Robert’s mention of screams brought the chaotic events of the morning back down upon him. “Your sister witnessed a murder this morning.”
“A murder? Gad! Izzie what happened?” Robert glanced from her to the surrounds of the room as though he expected to find evidence of the crime in her bedroom.
“Don’t be daft. Not here.” She turned away from him to stare out the window.
“Well, for pity’s sake, tell me what happened.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Valen cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, my lady, there are a host of interested parties. A constable. Bow Street. The magistrate. All are quite eager to have your version of the events. They only allowed me to extract you from the scene on the promise that I would report, in minute detail, any information you might be able to give. Were it not for your inclination to swoon and to–”
“Yes. You mentioned that already.” Elizabeth didn’t want to hear it again.
“What?” Robert demanded.
“Retch,” Valen answered evenly.
She groaned.
“Oh, I see, fainted and retched. Didn’t know Izzie was the sort.”
“No. I wouldn’t have thought it either.”
She punched her pillow and tried to get comfortable. “May we please change the subject?”
“Yes. You can jolly well tell me what happened. Let us begin with where you were.” Her brother’s commanding tone surprised Elizabeth.
Still, he had no right to order her about, not after the morning she’d had. “I’m not ready to speak of it.”
Robert swelled up, and she recognized the imperious tone that her father used to take. “Izzie—” he warned.
“Your brother is right,” Valen cut in. “Regrettably, there is urgency, my dear. The blighter who shot Smythe is still running loose in the city.” He tapped his finger against the arm of the chair. “And there appears to be several circumstances surrounding the crime that are of particular interest to the officials.”
She groaned, guessing exactly which circumstances those might be. What would happen when the magistrate discovered she’d been consorting with a smuggler, or worse, a thief? “I can’t. I really can’t”
“Unfortunately, if I do not carry your story to them with some haste, I have no doubt the authorities will arrive here shortly to interview you themselves.”
“I need some laudanum.”
“No,” Robert ordered. “Won’t have it. Not you, Izzie. You detest it when mother hides behind the stuff. Tell us what happened and have done with it.”
She turned her face toward the pillow, afraid to look at either of them. “First, you must tell me, what the penalty is for consorting with a smuggler?”
The bed bounced as Robert sat down ungracefully on the edge. “I’ve no idea. Valen?”
“An innocent young lady, unaware of who she was dealing with—I doubt it will attract anyone’s notice. The important thing is to get to the facts of the murder.”
She sat up. “That’s just it. I wasn’t innocent. Mr. Smythe told me he had connections to a very exclusive source of French silks. I knew full
