Cyrus struck his fist on the table, rattling the dishes. “You are not the only one who learned about healing herbs and potions when we studied together. The physician told me her organs were weak and she might suffer at the end.”
He knew enough to cover his tracks. A large and fatal dose could be hidden by his good intention to ease her pain.
“You seem overly concerned with your wife’s quick end.” Maisie fired the accusation at him.
“Beth lingered too long.” His voice was oily as he tried to justify murdering his wife. “It wasn’t good for her. It wasn’t good for any of us.” His mouth twisted. He couldn’t hide it, his true intentions, his wicked nature.
It was all the confirmation Maisie needed. “You could have asked me to do that, if your real purpose was to make her more comfortable. I begged you to let me help her, and you wouldn’t allow it.”
“Don’t be foolish. I didn’t want us to be at her bedside together! You are the future, my future. She is gone from us now and I am glad of it.”
There it was. He’d been driven by his desire for Maisie, his obsession with what could be. Even now, since she had pulled away, he was still struggling to maintain his hold on her, talking of their future together.
How sad it was that Beth had gone to her grave knowing the worst of her husband. She knew he desired his ward instead, and she no longer trusted him. Maisie felt intense sorrow and guilt, knowing it was her arrival in their lives that had brought such a terrible situation to pass.
Before she had a chance to say another word the door burst open.
A serving girl tottered into the room. The look on her face was fearful and her cheeks were flushed as if with fever. Maisie quickly surmised something was badly amiss.
A low command was issued from beyond her, and the girl entered the room fully. She was all atremble, and it was little wonder, for there was a man at her back directing her, a cutlass raised in his hand and pointed between her shoulder blades.
Roderick.
Maisie shot to her feet, one hand covering her mouth to stifle the cry of disbelief that rose to her lips. It was really him. His hair was wild and his coat stained dark where she had wounded him, but she was grateful to see he was fully healed, moving easily, as if he had not been wounded at all. Her chest swelled with longing, with joy and pride.
Cyrus turned in his seat, but not quickly enough to gain the measure of the situation.
Urging the servant on, Roderick slammed the door behind them and then pushed her to one side, warning her with a glance to stay there and be quiet. In the blink of an eye he was at Cyrus’s back instead.
Cyrus had been rising to his feet, but Roderick pushed him back down onto his seat. With one hand he gripped him by the hair, pulling his head back, then rested his cutlass across the base of his throat.
Light from the window glinted on the polished blade.
The arrival of an assailant seemed to bring Cyrus to his senses, and he gripped the arms of his chair and narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the man who held a sharp blade to his gullet.
“Make no move, and I might let you live,” Roderick instructed.
Cyrus gave a twisted smile, staring directly up at him. “If you knew the power that could be unleashed in this room, you would turn on your heel and flee this place.”
“Oh, I know the power, for I have witnessed it in her myself.” Roderick looked across at her meaningfully.
Their eyes locked. Maisie wondered if he had come for retribution, but the deep affection she saw in his eyes assured her that wasn’t the case. Emotion welled in her. The way he looked at her, as adoring and possessive as ever—despite the trouble she had brought upon him and his men—made her feel as if her knees might give way. She’d thought him forever lost to her, feared she would surely never see him again, yet here he was. Then he smiled at her, and she felt as if she was alight with joy.
“Then you should be more wary,” Cyrus responded angrily, but clearly unsure what was going on.
“Silence,” Roderick ordered, leaning over Cyrus to enforce his command. “I have come because I have something to tell the lady. You would be wise to let me deliver the message before you irritate me further. I am not in the best of humor.” He lifted his head and looked at her again, maintaining his death grip on Cyrus.
He had something to say to her? Maisie waited with bated breath.
“I know where your sister, Jessie, is. I will happily escort you to her.”
It was not what she’d expected or hoped he would say, but his words nevertheless astonished and delighted her. “How do you know?”
“She is with Gregor Ramsay, the man I told you about.” He gave Cyrus a glance, and Maisie saw that he didn’t want to state their whereabouts, not while Cyrus listened. “I received word from Gregor this very morning.”
Her mind raced back over what he’d said to her about his partner, and she felt suddenly enlightened. “That’s why I sensed my sister, the connection, aboard the ship. Now I understand it.”
“Margaret,” Cyrus barked, addressing her with a stern stare. “Take action and get rid of this lawless heathen. He is trying to dupe you. Your sister might not even be alive. He is luring you with promises he cannot keep.”