The Poisoner's Game

Chapter 6

A.

Lady Margaret watched me under her eyelashes and hadn't yet moved from her spot several feet away. She bit her lip as her eyes darted around the dark garden. The letter I had pulled from her reticule made no sense to me, unless her grandfather didn't know she was in league with the Poisoner. Or, perhaps, she wasn't involved at all. My father had the evidence and he didn't have any reason to lie to me. Yet, why had the letter writer told her to not trust a duke? Which duke? It couldn't be my father.

The girl still hadn't moved but instead had retreated several steps back. Catching her climbing out of a window had not been in my plans. My only goal for the evening had been to dance with her, flirt just a bit perhaps, and then find my next in for gaining her trust one step at a time. I had agreed to meet a member of the C.I.D. outside in the gardens at just the moment Lady Margaret appeared. No coincidence, perhaps.

"Who are you?" she finally spoke as she inched closer, her reticule clutched to her chest.

"First Lieutenant Alexander Rocque III and lord by the happenstance of birth." I gave her a dramatic bow.

She notched her chin in the air, but I could see her shoulders shake whether from cold or fear I couldn't tell. "Why are you interested in the Poisoner?"

While I had not been given a cover story neither had I thought this was how I'd begin the case. It should have been a simple reconnaissance mission, but I could already tell it had gotten more complicated, so I lied. "I work for a small unit in the Royal Navy that deals with criminality within the Empire's trade networks. The Poisoner has been on our list for some time."

Lady Margaret's brow furrowed, and she mumbled to herself, "So, he is real."

"Pardon?"

She looked at me again, her stance had weakened, and her arms now hung loosely at her sides. "Nothing."

"It seems to me, my lady, that you have found yourself tangled in something you shouldn't be involved with?" I leaned against the brick wall, mindful of the door and that we weren't quite in the best location for this kind of talk.

"I suppose so." Lady Margaret had re-entered the light cast by the illuminated ballroom just above us. "I didn't believe any of it was real until..." She ended her train of thought by glaring at me.

"Until what? You clearly believed it enough to run away."

"It doesn't matter." Her face turned grey at whatever thought had crossed her mind. "You said you had answers. About my parents?"

Her hopeful expression looked all too familiar and my cheeks felt hot. "Not exactly."

Lady Margaret retreated several steps once more and watched me with wary suspicion. I didn't quite understand her reactions but thought that maybe she played a game of damsel in distress. Only one of us would win the game and I planned on being the victor. "I have no information but perhaps we can help each other. I find the Poisoner and you find out what happened to your parents."

"I don't see how I could help you as I don't know anything," Lady Margaret said. I looked for the lie, but she seemed to be telling the truth, at least something of it.

From the maze, we could hear the loud laughter and drunken slur of several men close to our location. Lady Margaret, like a frightened deer, skipped toward me and I almost imagined she would have used my body as a human shield if she had to.

"We will need to find a better place to speak. Somewhere more private."

Lady Margaret nodded in stuttered agreement, watching the maze with wide eyes as the laughter inched closer. "We will need a proper introduction. Not like our dance." Her eyes flicked to mine as quickly as they flicked away.

I nodded. "Consider it done." Over the hedges of the maze, I could just make out top hats bobbing in our direction. "You've been gone from the ball too long. Can you make your way back to the ballroom alone?"

She nodded, and we parted ways. This had not gone to plan. Not at all.

#

M.

In the hallway mirror, my wide grey eyes stared back at me through a mess of dark curls peppered with sprigs of Juniper. Even my typically olive complexion looked ashen. I could not return to the ballroom in this state or my reputation, insignificant as it might be, would be destroyed. As best I could, I searched my hair for lost pins. But for a few curls, who refused to cooperate, I eventually managed to arrange the mass back into place. In the foyer, I found a footman.

"Excuse me?"

The footman stared at my rumpled outfit with a suggestive smirk. That was the first time, but not the last time that I decided I was going to kill Lord Alexander. I wouldn't have fallen if he hadn't scared me.

"Could you please fetch my cloak; the name is Savoy."

He nodded to me and minutes later returned with my cloak. In the ladies' retiring room I relaced my corset and bodice. The crushed bustle and the wrinkled satin were beyond a quick repair and I covered myself with my cloak.

At the edge of the ballroom, I sat down next to Aunt Emily who snorted awake.

"Where have you been, girl?" she slurred drunkenly. "You know," she covered a burp, "he was supposed to come tonight. Won't now." Aunt Emily swayed in her chair, and I pushed her upright. "The duke frightens him, I think."

"Uncle Matthew is still in Somerset." I watched her reach for her flask under the chair. Yet, I wondered if it was the same duke my grandfather warned me about.

"You don't understand." She sat up, taking a swig from her flask. She focused on me again. "Where have you been, girl?"

"I went to get my cloak, Aunt. I was chilled." The ballroom sweltered with human body heat.

She gave me a look, pouring spirits from her flask into a glass of punch. "You're an odd pigeon." She nodded as if agreeing with herself. She said nothing more of my disappearance and never would.