Reese's Bride. Kat Martin

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      She seemed to be fighting to concentrate, though he couldn’t actually be sure. “Several months ago, I began feeling slightly unwell. It wasn’t … wasn’t much at first, just headaches and a slight dizziness once in a while. Over the past few weeks, the symptoms have worsened. My memory has become affected. Sometimes things seem hazy, somehow out of focus. I believe my brother-in-law hopes, eventually, that I shall lose all sense of reality. I think he hopes I will withdraw completely.”

      She lifted the linen napkin in her lap, straightened it nervously, and spread it once more across her full black skirt. “More and more, he tries to take control. He has even begun to … to behave … in a … a manner improper to his dead brother’s wife.”

      Reese tensed. “Are you saying Mason Holloway has made unwanted advances?”

      She swallowed. “Yes …” The sound whispered out as if she hoped no one would hear.

      Anger flashed through him. Fury at Mason Holloway.

      Reese was stunned. It was impossible he could be jealous. Ridiculous after all of these years. He took a deep breath, shoving the unexpected emotions away.

      Elizabeth looked up at him. “I think Mason is trying to gain control of my mind and my body and in doing so, gain control of my son and his fortune.”

      He replayed the things she had told him. He had no idea how much of what she was saying was true, but the way she had fainted dead away last night made him believe it was possible.

      “Assuming what you’re telling me is true, how do you believe Mason is managing all of this?”

      “I don’t … I don’t know. Some sort of drug, perhaps, laced into my food. I tried not eating for a while, but I began to feel weak and since I wasn’t certain if food was the problem or if I was wrong entirely, I gave up the notion.”

      “And you never saw a physician?”

      She swallowed, took a sip of her tea as if it fortified her somehow. She set the cup back down on the table, moving tendrils of curly black hair, loose from the knot at the nape of her neck, against her pale cheek. Beneath the table, his body stirred to life. His groin began to fill and Reese swore a silent oath.

      He needed a woman, he told himself. A single trip to Madame Lafon’s exclusive London bordello had not been enough to ease a man’s needs after so many months.

      “Mason brought someone in to see me,” Elizabeth continued, returning his mind to the subject. “A doctor named Smithson. He said I would be fine. I didn’t know him. I’m not certain he was a doctor at all.”

      “My brother’s physician is reliable. I’ll have him here as soon as it can be arranged.” Reese waited to see if she would agree or if her purported illness was some sort of ruse.

      “I think that is a good idea. I’ll be happy to pay him, of course.”

      A thread of anger trickled through him. “You might be rich, Countess, but you are a guest here and as such under my care. I am hardly a pauper. Though I suppose compared to an earl it might seem so to you.”

      “I didn’t mean—”

      He rose from his chair, the legs grating on the polished wooden floor. Reaching down, he picked up his cane. “I have things to do. I believe your son is expecting you.”

      Elizabeth said nothing, just sat there staring up at him with big gray wounded eyes. Reese turned away, determined to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt at his harsh words.

      He owed Elizabeth nothing. Less than nothing, he told himself as made his way out of the breakfast room.

       Four

      Reese sent a note to his brother, Royal, that morning, asking him the name of his physician, a doctor who lived near Swansdowne, but leaving out the reason why. He knew all bloody hell would break loose if Royal found out Elizabeth was staying in Reese’s house.

      She wouldn’t be there for long, he assured himself. He would see her off to London, perhaps as soon as tomorrow.

      The doctor arrived earlier than he expected. At two o’clock that afternoon, a reed-thin, silver-haired gentleman named Richard Long walked into the foyer. Pleading another headache, Elizabeth had returned upstairs to bed. Reese escorted Dr. Long upstairs to examine her, introduced him to the wan-looking woman beneath the covers, then went down to his study to await the doctor’s verdict.

      Reese tried to concentrate on the ledgers still lying on his desk, but as usual, his attention continued to stray. He told himself he wasn’t worried about Elizabeth, just anxious for her to get well enough to leave his house.

      He was staring down at the numbers written on the page in front of him when a light knock sounded, noting the physician’s arrival. Reese beckoned him in and Dr. Long sat down in a brown leather chair on the opposite side of Reese’s big oak desk.

      “How is she?” he asked, a question he couldn’t have imagined posing even a few days ago.

      “Not well, I’m afraid. Lady Aldridge is extremely fatigued. She has started to perspire and I believe she may soon start vomiting. I left one of the maids upstairs with her.”

      He ignored a thread of concern. At least she hadn’t been lying. She was ill, as she had said.

      “The countess was quite candid with me,” Long continued. “She told me she believes someone has been drugging her and I believe she is correct in that assumption.”

      Reese’s hand unconsciously fisted.

      “I can’t say how the drug got into her system,” the doctor continued. “But her ladyship appears to be suffering from the effects of a continual use of laudanum.”

      Laudanum. He understood the effects of the drug often administered to relieve pain. He had been given fairly large doses before and after the grapeshot was cut out of his leg.

      “Little by little, she was slowly becoming addicted,” Long said. “Today she didn’t get whatever dose she usually receives, an amount her body has begun to crave. Until the drug is completely flushed from her system, she will have to endure the effects of the withdrawal.”

      He fought to contain his temper. Elizabeth was being drugged and she had accused the man who was supposed to be her protector. Reese suppressed an urge to retrieve his saber and run it through Mason Holloway’s heart.

      Of course he had no proof that Holloway was responsible. For all he knew, she could have been dosing herself. People often became addicted to the feeling of euphoria that accompanied the drug, which also relieved stress and pain—for a while.

      “How much time will it take?”

      “A few days, is my guess. From the symptoms she described, I would say the dosage has been small.”

      “Probably why she couldn’t figure out how they were giving it to her.”

      “Will you go to the authorities?”

      “As СКАЧАТЬ