Page 87 of A Season for Scandal

“I’m sorry,” Helene jumped in. “But if the Browns have, in fact, attempted to poison my brother and presumably believe him to have keeled over by now” – Oliver gave a muttered protest here – “then … where are they?”

The question hung in the air.

“I suppose,” said Sylla, “that they are in their hotel room, waiting for the tragic news to be delivered.”

“Then, by all means,” I said, getting to my feet and dusting off my skirts, “let us go and give it to them. I for one have several things I should like to say to them before the police cart them away.”

“Wait.” Mrs Finch held up her hand. “We do not all need to go. Winnie, Maud, you split up and find Celeste, the head housekeeper. Tell her that I sent you. Tell her we will need some of those muscular henchmen the hotel employs. Miss Lavigne…” she began, but Helene cut her off.

“I am going,” she said. “After what they did to Lucy? To my brother? I want them to seeme.”

Mrs Finch smiled. “I was going to suggest you stay here with Miss Brown, but as you feel so strongly about the matter…”

“I can come with you…” Lucy started, but Helene took her hands gently between her own.

“She is quite right, Lucy. You must stay here. You don’t need to go near those two again. I won’t have it.” Her voice was firm.

Lucy bit her lip, nodded. “I – I suppose. If you think it best.”

“You must call a doctor to check on Mr Lockhart,” I said to Mrs Finch.

Oliver sat up at this. “Absolutely not.” His feet hit the carpet. “I am coming with you.”

“Don’t be absurd,” I snapped. “Five minutes ago you were almostdead.”

Oliver waved an airy hand. “Who among us hasn’t ingested a little poison here and there?”

Sylla made a sound of approval.

“This is ridiculous,” I said as he struggled to his feet, teeth clearly gritted. “You aregreen.”

Oliver reached out and took my hand. The look he gave me was heart-melting. “Bloom, didn’t you promise me that we were going to take turns punching David Brown in the face?”

“So romantic,” I heard Winnie murmur dreamily to Maud.

“Fine,” I bit off, flustered and annoyed. “But if you fall over and knock yourself unconscious, don’t expect me to rescue you.Again.”

“And I shall accompany you three in a supervisory capacity,” Sylla said primly. “After all, Mari still hasn’t technically completed her training. This will be her first time confronting the villain.”

On that note, we all filed out into the hallway. Sylla, Helene, a queasy-looking Oliver and I made a strange party to confront the Browns, but we certainly had the element of surprise on our side.

When we reached their door, I didn’t knock, only turned the handle and walked inside.

Mr Brown stood by the fireplace with a drink, his wife sat in an armchair, leafing through a periodical. My blood ran cold at the fact that they believed Oliver was dying downstairs by their hands, and they somehow managed to give the appearance of an illustration in a domestic magazine.

When Mrs Brown glanced up and caught sight of us, her face paled. Mr Brown took one look at Oliver and his brandy glass fell to the hearth and shattered.

“M-Mr Lockhart,” he managed.

Oliver’s smile was terrifying. “Mr Brown,” he murmured. “I don’t believe you’ve met … my sister?”

Helene took a step forward, and I heard Mrs Brown’s breath catch.

My eyes locked on her and she in turn was staring at Oliver. “I thought you were … you were supposed to be…”

“Dead?” Oliver said. “I’m afraid not.”

“Oh, Mr Lockhart,” Mr Brown’s voice held a smile, and I heard a chilling and familiar click. “I wouldn’t be so certain about that. The night is still young.” In his hand was a gun, and it was pointed straight at my head.