“You asked.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“It is to me.”
Caleb studied her.
She was frightened.
He could see it now.
The steadiness had fooled him.
Her fingers trembled around the spoon.
He lowered his voice.
“Beatrice.”
“Yes?”
“Whatever agreement Marcus made with me ended the moment I learned this.”
Her expression closed.
Caleb immediately saw the misunderstanding.
“I don’t mean the marriage.”
She looked up.
“I mean the bargain.”
He leaned forward.
“I owe Marcus nothing.”
“He canceled the debt.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will if he takes your land.”
“Let him try.”
“Caleb—”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“You are not payment.”
Beatrice stopped.
“Nobody purchased the right to decide what happens to you.”
Her throat tightened.
Caleb extended one hand across the table.
Then stopped halfway.
Leaving the distance for her.
“If you want to leave this cabin tomorrow, I’ll take you anywhere you choose.”
She stared.
“If you want to remain married only long enough to secure your inheritance, fine.”
Her eyes filled.
“If you want an annulment the moment you’re safe, I will sign.”
The last sentence hurt more than she expected.
Caleb saw.
Again he misunderstood.
“I’m not asking you to leave.”
Beatrice said nothing.
“I’m saying you get to choose.”
She looked at his waiting hand.
Then slowly placed hers in it.
Caleb’s fingers closed gently.
“Marcus wasn’t the only one,” she whispered.
His brow furrowed.
“What?”
“The poisoning.”
“Vale?”
“I think so.”
“Anyone else?”
Beatrice’s face changed.
“The town doctor knew.”
“You already said Vale.”
She shook her head.
“No. I mean he knew before Marcus ever suggested this marriage.”
Caleb’s expression darkened.
“How?”
Beatrice looked toward the trunk.
“There’s something I brought with me.”
She released his hand.
Opened the canvas trunk.
Beneath the medical books was a small wooden box.
She carried it to the table.
Inside lay three folded papers, a glass vial wrapped in cloth, and a silver spoon.
Caleb stared.
“What is this?”
“Insurance.”
She lifted the spoon.
Dark discoloration marked one edge.
“This was in my room after one of the meals.”
“You kept it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because arsenic can leave traces.”
Caleb looked at the vial.
“The tonic?”
“A sample.”
“You brought poison across the mountains?”
“I brought evidence.”
He stared at her.
“Remind me never to underestimate you.”
“Most people need reminding.”
Caleb almost smiled.
Then she unfolded a note.
Dr. Vale’s handwriting.
Increase to 10 drops. Continue nightly until weakness is consistent. Avoid obvious gastric distress.
Caleb read it twice.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was stuck inside a book Marcus asked me to carry from his study.”
“Addressed to him?”
“No name.”
“But—”
“The paper came from Vale’s office.”
Caleb looked at her.
“You stole it?”
“I found it.”
“That distinction seems flexible.”
“Very.”
He almost laughed again.
Then he read the sentence another time.
“Until weakness is consistent.”
His face hardened.
“I’m going to Ridge Creek.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”