Kingsley Manor by Amanda L. V. Shalaby

Author:Amanda L. V. Shalaby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, historical
Publisher: Crimson Romance, an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
Published: 2012-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“Lord Kingsley told me we could trust Mr. Weathersby,” Rhianna told Thayne. “What of Dr. Logan? Ought he to have discovered the poison in his system? Do you imagine he could be conspiring with them?”

With his hand on the doorknob to Lord Kingsley’s bedroom, Thayne paused. All the servants had left. The hallway was empty but for the two of them.

“Pierson was specific that neither Lydia nor Desmond was able to get to Lord Kingsley to give him the final dose. If such is the case, it would seem they are working alone,” he thought aloud. “Not to mention Dr. Logan has had full access to Lord Kingsley, and if all that was required was a final dose, he certainly hasn’t administered it.”

“Yes, but Mr. Weathersby has been consistently at his side. Perhaps even Dr. Logan’s full access is not opportunity enough under watchful eyes.”

At last, he shook his head. “There is nothing to be gained for the doctor by the death of Lord Kingsley,” Thayne said, resolutely. “Nothing is impossible, but we are going to have to take the chance and hope the doctor is on our side.”

Rhianna nodded, her hands wrung anxiously together. Thayne kissed her forehead and opened the door.

Guilford lay in bed sleeping, his previous confession having pressed his strength to the limit. Weathersby and Dr. Logan stood nearby, their faces grave, as they had been all along.

“Gentlemen,” called Thayne.

“Lord Brighton,” they greeted. “Miss Braden.”

Rhianna half curtseyed, eyeing both men suspiciously. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help it.

“Dr. Logan,” Thayne addressed, in a no-holds-barred manner, “I have a very serious question to ask of you, and I beg you will excuse my directness.”

Dr. Logan appeared at once concerned. “Of course.”

“Have you ruled out the possibility that Lord Kingsley has been poisoned?”

“Poisoned?” echoed Weathersby.

Dr. Logan appeared equally aghast. “Sir?”

Thayne watched his reaction closely. “Something that could have been administered over a period of time to make it appear he was ill of natural causes?”

The doctor’s brows furrowed together, his mouth parted. He looked at Guilford with what appeared heavy concern.

“Arsenic,” he answered, his voice monotone. “It would be nearly undetectable. Lord Brighton,” he glared at him, “what exactly are you suggesting?”

“A very serious allegation against Lydia Kingsley, Desmond Kingsley, and her cousin, Mr. Pierson, Doctor. Miss Braden and I are, in fact, witnesses to a conversation between two of them on this very subject.”

Weathersby’s mouth opened as if to gasp, but no sound was heard. Dr. Logan rushed to Guilford’s side and examined him.

“It would explain his symptoms,” the doctor said, his voice hurried, panicked.

“Dr. Logan,” Rhianna asked, hesitantly, “if such is the case, could he be saved?”

Her eyes were wide, pleading. For a moment, she forgot he did not know he was her father.

Dr. Logan seemed to consider the likelihood. “It is possible,” he told her, cautiously. Then he shook his head.

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