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  Quill stepped forward and took the cup Ivy offered him, and hid a smile as she began to question the little maid under the guise of being new to the area.

  “Oh”—the maid’s eyes grew round upon hearing that Ivy was one of the four heiresses up at Beauchamp House—“I hadn’t thought to meet one of you so soon.” Her tone implied that the four bluestockings had been much talked about in Daisy’s social circles. “Is it true that one of the ladies likes to paint folks without any clothes on?” This last was said in a low whisper as if saying the words too loudly would conjure Sophia who would demand that everybody get naked at once. Before Ivy could respond, the maid continued. “Or that another one arrived with a gentleman who wasn’t her husband?”

  Ivy blinked, then exchanged a wide-eyed look with Quill as if to ask whether she should respond. Clearly Daisy wasn’t all that bright if she were asking the latter lady about herself. But that didn’t mean her inquiry wasn’t alarming for Ivy. Taking pity on her, he said, “I can assure you, Daisy, that there have been no such displays while I’ve been up at Beauchamp House. And while it’s true that Miss Wareham and I arrived around the same time, that doesn’t mean we were traveling together. Perhaps one of the servants has been telling tales to make them seem more exciting. For I can assure you, all I’ve seen so far is a great deal of reading. And some organizing of the library shelves.”

  Though he said this with the same polished ease with which he would chat with any of the villagers, inside Quill was fuming. Rumors were to be expected with new arrivals, of course. It was bound to happen when so little occurred in the area to divert the townspeople that didn’t involve the local fishing harvest or the rhythms of the tides. But he was furious that someone at Beauchamp House had been spreading tales about the bluestockings. It was irregular enough that Lady Celeste had chosen to leave her home to four strangers, but if they were going to be here for any extended length of time—and he was now resigned to the fact that they would be—then they would have to be welcomed into the close-knit community. Which was less likely to happen if their reputations were ruined before they even had a chance to meet their neighbors. Not to mention the fact that such tales often found their way to London. It was one thing to wish them gone from his aunt’s home, but it was quite another to wish them to be utterly ruined.

  At his denial of the rumors, and the revelation that he was the gentleman in question, Daisy’s eyes grew alarmingly wide. “Oh, my lord!” She clapped her hands on either side of her face. “I’m that sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” Dropping into another curtsy, this one so low she was almost unable to get up again, she muttered another apology before hurriedly excusing herself and fleeing the room.

  “Well,” Ivy said staring after her. “I suppose it’s comforting to know that gossip is the same wherever one goes. Though I’m rather shocked at how quickly word of our arrival has made it here. There must be quite a healthy network of gossips between Beauchamp House and the village.”

  “Dashed busybodies,” Quill said with a grimace. He didn’t like how falsely bright Ivy’s expression seemed to be, as if she were hiding her true feelings on the matter. “Hopefully Daisy will set those particular rumors to rest. Though you might wish to tell Sophia that she should refrain from painting nudes for a bit.”

  “I was unaware that she’d painted any at all,” Ivy said with a twist of her lips. “I am guessing that rumor might be just that. Unless she perhaps brought some of her paintings with her. Indeed, I rather think that must be the case, for I cannot imagine her asking Lady Daphne to pose for her. And though they are sisters, Gemma does not strike me as someone who would willingly pose for any painting, let alone a nude one.”

  Quill pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing Ivy would stop using the word “nude.”

  “Ah, I see Daisy has brought you some refreshment,” Dr. Vance said, poking his head in the door before opening it all the way and stepping inside. “I do apologize, Lord Kerr. I was consulting with the local apothecary and was unable to get away.”

  “It’s good of you to see us, Vance,” Quill said, grateful for the distraction. “May I present Miss Aphrodite Wareham. As you may have heard, she is one of the four young ladies to whom my aunt left Beauchamp House.”

  At the mention of Lady Celeste, the doctor’s face fell a little. Then he rallied and moved to bow over Ivy’s hand. “It is delightful to make your acquaintance, Miss Wareham,” he said with a warm smile. “I know Lady Celeste was quite eager to make her home a haven for scholarly ladies such as yourself. What a comfort it is, as her friend, to know that you are just as delightful as she had hoped.”

  Quill blinked. “Do you mean to say that you knew about my aunt’s plans, Vance?” he demanded, unable to keep the note of annoyance from his voice. It was one thing to be blindsided by his aunt’s plans if everyone else close to her had been too. But hearing that she’d confided her plans to her local physician was a little bit galling.

  But if the doctor was abashed by Quill’s question, he didn’t show it. “Your aunt was ill for some months before she died, my lord. And as her physician I spent a great deal of time with her before she passed. Something that gave her much comfort over those weeks was the knowledge that her passing would make it possible for four intelligent young ladies to make their homes in Beauchamp House and to make their marks in a way which Lady Celeste could not.”

  “How wonderful that she was able to have not only her physician by her side,” Ivy said, after a quelling glance at Quill, “but also a dear friend. For I’m sure she must have counted you so if she confided her plans to you. I hope that knowing how much you helped her gives you comfort.”

  To Quill’s surprise the other man’s eyes welled and he was forced to pull an enormous handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his eyes. “I do apologize, Miss Wareham,” Vance said with a grimace, his bushy gray eyebrows almost touching in his distress. “But you are quite right that I counted Lady Celeste as a friend. And it was quite hard to lose her. Especially when I still don’t know precisely what caused her death.”

  * * *

  Mindful of their reason for being in the doctor’s offices, Quill spoke up, watching with narrow eyes as Ivy patted Vance’s hand. “That’s just why we’ve come, doctor. Miss Wareham and I were curious about what it might have been that took my aunt away in her prime.” Improvising to explain why Ivy might have accompanied him, he continued. “Miss Wareham has a fear of illness in general and she could not rest until we confirmed with you that whatever it was that killed my aunt is not, in fact, something that could pass on to others living in Beauchamp House.”

  Far from flinching at his mischaracterization, Ivy nodded at Quill’s description of her phobia. “Indeed, Dr. Vance. I had a rather weak constitution as a child, so I am quite careful about ensuring I don’t needlessly place myself in harm’s way. When I learned upon my arrival at Beauchamp House that Lady Celeste died of a mysterious illness, I could not help but fear that it might be something that even now lingers within the house. I simply cannot go about my usual business if I’m constantly worried that touching this book or wandering that corridor will bring on one of the attacks I suffered so often as a child.”

  On hearing Ivy’s explanation, the doctor at first looked troubled, then relieved. “I can assure you Miss Wareham that there is no indication that whatever Lady Celeste suffered from was in any way catching. No one else in the house fell ill, and indeed no one in the village did either. If it was something that might be shared between patients, then it is long gone from Beauchamp House.”

  “What a relief, Dr. Vance,” Ivy said with a heaving sigh. “But if you don’t mind my asking, what was your best guess at what might have caused her illness? I know Lord Kerr hasn’t said so, but I do know how hard it is to lose a loved one. And one wants to know why, don’t they?”

  She was a little too good at playing the concerned former invalid, Quill thought wryly as he watched Ivy blink up at Vance with her big green eyes. S
he’d best be careful if she didn’t wish to receive a proposal from the man. He was looking quite bowled over by her attention.

  Shaking his head, Vance turned so that he could face both Quill and Ivy. “As I told your lordship in my letter,” he said glumly, “I was never able to pinpoint her cause of death. I did suspect perhaps that she suffered from some sort of stomach ailment. A cancer perhaps, but that didn’t explain all of her other symptoms. In the end, I fear her heart simply could not support her any longer and gave out.”

  “I do not wish to press you,” Ivy said into the silence that followed, “but might her illness have been brought on by something she consumed? I do not like to speculate, but my dear aunt Jane fell ill after she began taking a tonic she purchased while in London. I fear she was rather too zealous about taking it and ended up quite ill as a result. It’s just that Lady Celeste’s symptoms as Mrs. Bacon described them to me sound so similar.”

  It wasn’t a bad guess, Quill thought, impressed despite himself at Ivy’s suggestion. Though he’d never known his aunt to be particularly prone to relying upon the sorts of tonics and tinctures that could be had in any apothecary shop, instead choosing to take whatever her doctor chose to have made up for her. But it did offer a possible means of transmitting poison.

  But Dr. Vance shook his head. “I asked her, of course, about what remedies she might have been taking on her own before she consulted me,” he explained with a dour expression. “But she assured me that she was taking nothing out of the ordinary. I do know that her maid was fond of giving her herbal tisanes for her headaches, but those were only occasionally, and I questioned the maid thoroughly about the ingredients. None of which would cause the kind of illness that Lady Celeste suffered from.”

  “If you’ll indulge me, however, Dr. Vance,” said Quill firmly, “is there something that in usual quantities isn’t dangerous but might be if it is taken too often? Or in too large a dose?”

  Dr. Vance’s eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me if I think your aunt was poisoned, Lord Kerr?” he demanded, his gaze traveling from Ivy to Quill and back again.

  “That is precisely what I’m asking,” Quill said baldly. “My aunt suspected that someone was trying to kill her. And what I wish to know is, did you suspect it as well?”

  Chapter 13

  Ivy couldn’t take her eyes off Quill.

  Despite his wind-ravaged hair and relaxed country attire, the Marquess of Kerr was every inch the aggrieved nobleman as he waited for Dr. Vance to answer his question. And the doctor was well aware of it too, Ivy could see. Though his jaw clenched at Quill’s sharp tone, he didn’t wave off the question or give an easy platitude that might have worked with one of his less highly ranked patients’ families.

  She was always aware, of course, that Lord Kerr came from a different world than her own. But it was not difficult to imagine he was just like other men beneath the beautifully tailored clothes when he was teasing her and striding across the countryside. His posture and steely tone now told her just how much of a mistake it was to forget his privileged existence.

  “I suspected it, yes,” the doctor said, his mouth tight with anger. “But I had no way to prove it short of having a coroner conduct the sort of posthumous examination that I know your aunt would have despised.” He looked down, clearly trying to get hold of his temper. “I knew your aunt for decades, my lord. And held her in some affection. We were friends. And I wanted more than anything to find out what was slowly killing her. For myself as much as for her own peace of mind. But she made me promise not to conduct any kind of invasive testing on her after she was gone.”

  He looked up and Ivy could see that, far from the coolly detached physician she had at first thought him, Dr. Vance was truly grief-stricken over Lady Celeste’s death. They were of an age, she realized as she took in the doctor’s trim physique and not unattractive salt-and-pepper hair. Could Dr. Vance and Lady Celeste had been more to each other than friends? If so, how painful must it have been for him to watch her wither away?

  Quill must have wondered the same thing, for his next words were a bit less sharp. “But you must have tried to stop the source of the poison, surely? If you did indeed suspect that was the culprit?”

  “So many stomach ailments have the same symptoms as many poisons,” Dr. Vance said. “And without an autopsy there was no way of knowing for sure. So yes, I did go so far as to attempt to control what she consumed. Her maid, whom she trusted implicitly, personally oversaw what she ate and drank for the last month of her life. Which did not make her popular in the servants’ hall, I can tell you. And indeed she did seem to improve for a time. But not long after she suffered what was her last attack of illness and only days later she was gone.”

  “And you didn’t think to send for me,” Quill said, clearly angry. At the situation or Dr. Vance, Ivy couldn’t tell. “I might have removed her from Beauchamp House to London where she could have seen the best physicians Harley Street had to offer.” He began to pace, his agitation impossible to contain now.

  Though he might have taken offense at the mention of Harley Street, to Dr. Vance’s credit he said, “I tried, my lord. As I said, your aunt was my friend, and I wanted to see her well. But she thought she would be able to figure out who was responsible. And by the time she was ready to admit defeat, she was too far gone to travel. Believe me when I say I did everything I could to persuade her to leave. But you know as well as I do that Lady Celeste Beauchamp was as stubborn a woman who has ever lived. And she was unwilling to listen to reason. One of the downsides of a woman with a keen intellect, I suspect.”

  At his last words, Ivy bristled but chose not to argue. Though, honestly, she thought, no one ever complained of stubbornness in intelligent men. Because they assumed that a smart man was always right. Indeed, when the contest was between a man and a woman, the man was always right no matter how inferior his intellect might be.

  “For whatever reason,” she said coolly, “Lady Celeste chose to conduct her own investigation. Did she happen to share her suspicions with you, Dr. Vance?”

  He shook his head. “She refused to blacken anyone’s name when she had no proof. And when it came down to it, I don’t believe she had any idea who it was. She certainly had no concrete suspect, else she’d have accused them. Or at the very least dismissed them from her household, which she did not.”

  Seeing that there was little more they could learn from the doctor, and not wanting to overstay their welcome lest they need to question him again, Ivy was trying to catch Quill’s eye to indicate they should take their leave, when a sharp knock sounded on the door.

  A pretty lady, about a decade older than Ivy, stepped inside and smiled inquisitively. “I am sorry to intrude, my dear, but you’ve received a summons from the Granthams. Their eldest boy has fallen from a tree and broken his arm and they need you at once.”

  To Ivy’s surprise, Dr. Vance’s face transformed for a moment as he looked at his wife—for that must surely be who the lady was. Unless his housekeeper called him “my dear,” which would be highly unusual. “Come in, dearest,” he said with a smile that made him look years younger. “Lord Kerr, Miss Wareham, may I present my wife, Mrs. Marianne Vance. Mrs. Vance, this is Lord Kerr, the Marquess of Kerr, and Miss Wareham of Beauchamp House.”

  The doctor’s wife made her very correct curtsy to Quill and smiled warmly at Ivy, taking her hand in her own. “You must be one of the ladies that dear Lady Celeste left Beauchamp House to. How lovely to meet you. I had no idea that any of you were in residence yet, else I’d have paid a call by now.”

  “Oh, I only arrived yesterday,” Ivy assured her quickly. “And my compatriots only a couple of days before that. Though I look forward to welcoming you, of course.”

  “Perhaps once you’re all settled,” Mrs. Vance continued, “we can hold an assembly to welcome you all to the neighborhood. For I know the rest of our little circle will be desperate to meet you all.”

  At her effusive words,
Ivy laughed. “I’m not sure anyone should be desperate to meet any of us, though I appreciate your enthusiasm, of course.”

  “Well, I must admit that we were a little worried when we learned of Lady Celeste’s bequest,” Mrs. Vance said with a confiding smile. “We are a close-knit community and no one knew what to make of the notion we’d be getting a sudden influx of bluestockings in our midst. But you seem like a normal young lady and not at all the sort of dour creature full of her own importance I imagined you’d be.”

  Ivy leaned back a little, shocked despite herself at the other lady’s description of her expectations of her. She supposed villages were not as used to mixing with intellectually inclined ladies as cities like Oxford or London were. But even so, it was hard not to be offended by the assumptions Mrs. Vance had made.

  “I can assure you, Mrs. Vance,” said Quill, perhaps interpreting Ivy’s silence correctly, “I have met all four of the young ladies my aunt left Beauchamp House to and they are all delightful. Not a hint of the radical amongst the lot of them.”

  This last annoyed Ivy. She didn’t need him reassuring women like Mrs. Vance about her political proclivities. His words made her desperately want to spout off some outrageous philosophy or casually ask when the village anarchists held their meetings.

  “Oh, I can see that for myself, my lord,” Mrs. Vance said beaming. “Though I am grateful for your assurances. I should hate to think that Little Seaford was in danger of being overrun by Amazons.” She laughed merrily and didn’t seem to notice that Ivy didn’t join in. “I am so pleased to meet you, Miss Wareham, and will definitely pay a call on the four of you before the week is out.”

  “Do not forget our chaperone, Lady Serena Fanning,” Ivy said wryly. “She at least will lend the rest of us consequence if our own good behavior does not.”

  Perhaps sensing the undercurrents, Dr. Vance jumped in. “If I am to reach the Grantham farm in good time, I should take my leave. My lord, Miss Wareham, I hope you will come to me if you have any more questions.”