The Haunting of a Duke(25)

He moved his finger from side to side and then up and down, and she followed the movement with ease. “I do not think your head injury is too severe. I believe that with rest, you will be fine. My primary concern is the dip into that very cold lake. We need to be certain that you do not catch a chill. Your maid should sit with you tonight to watch for any signs that your head injury is more severe than we realized and also to ensure that a fever is treated immediately, should one develop."

"I will have one of the house maids assist you,” Rhys said to Gussy.

Michael stared intently at her for a moment, “Can you tell me what happened?"

Emme couldn't remember falling into the lake. “I remember walking by the lake and then I can remember, vaguely, Lord Brammel pulling me from the water. But it's all a blur, I'm afraid. I must have slipped."

Michael stood. “We'll leave you now. You should let her rest only for half hour increments. If she rouses easily, let her return to sleep, but if you have any difficulty waking her, send someone to fetch me immediately."

"Yes, milord,” Gussy said as she moved closer to the bed, to smooth the pillow and make her mistress more comfortable.

"I need to speak with you, alone,” Michael said quietly to Rhys.

Tense and worried, Rhys followed him from the room, his curiosity piqued by Michael's unusually serious tone. He hoped that Miss Walters’ injuries were not more severe than previously mentioned.

Outside the bedchamber door, Michael turned back to face him. “What exactly happened, Rhys?"

"What exactly is going on, Michael?” he queried back, his tone sharp.

Michael stepped closer, and in a whisper, he said, “If she had fallen, she would have struck more than her head. There are no marks on her hands or her knees to indicate that she fell. The only injury is to her temple, here,” he said, indicating the area, “it would be all but impossible to fall in such a way"

"You are suggesting that someone struck her and left her to drown?” Rhys asked.

The thought had occurred to him immediately, but he didn't want to believe that. It changed everything.

Michael shrugged. “She is here investigating your wife's suicide which may very well have been a murder, not to mention the fact that she is stirring up very old and dark secrets. Given the events of last night, it is reasonable to believe that there might be someone who doesn't wish for her to find those answers."

"Speaking of last night, I received a missive from Hornsby. Apparently Madame Zuniga was working with a partner who has subsequently been arrested. The doors had been rigged to blow open, and afterward she was to enter a trance where the dead would speak through her. It appears that she and her partner had a serious disagreement, and he altered the plan. They apprehended him at an inn on the London Road. He is protesting his innocence, but Hornsby is having none of it. It's too pat, for my liking, but Hornsby will not look any deeper when provided with an easy answer. If this was an attempt on Miss Walters’ life, and not simply an accident, then it is unlikely that we have more than one villain roaming the hall."

Michael shrugged. “There is a possibility that I am wrong, that this incident is entirely unrelated to Miss Walter's abilities and her investigation. But I do not like coincidence, Rhys."

Rhys looked back at the door to her chamber.

"The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, Michael, and every line is pointing to one inescapable fact. Whether her abilities are genuine or not, Miss Walters is in danger and there will be no help from local authorities. It will be up to us to protect her."

Emme awoke the following morning with a headache that was only marginally improved from the day before. She was exhausted from the lack of uninterrupted sleep and from Gussy's unrelenting hovering throughout the night. The wound was tender and her skull felt as if it were too tight. Her stomach rebelled when she sat up in bed, but she ignored it.

She had only just attained a semi-vertical position, when Gussy entered the room with a tea tray. She also had a bee in her bonnet, Emme noted. The maid deposited the tray before her, and on it were two cups. Gussy didn't respond to her questioning look, but went immediately to the wardrobe where she retrieved a wrapper and brought it over to the bed.

"His Grace is coming,” Gussy said, as she helped Emme into the wrapper.

"Why?"

Gussy looked at her as if she were daft. “Why don't I just go ask him? A maid questioning a duke in his own house as if she had the right! Ye must have knocked your noggin harder than Lord Ellersleigh thought."

Used to Gussy's caustic humor, Emme simply leveled a baleful stare at her. “Do you want to find another position?"