Free Death Comes to London by Catherine Lloyd Page B

it? But he is determined to speak to you about it.”
    “Now?”
    “The sooner the better, he said. Although what there is to remember, or forget, about what Broughton was doing last night when one was forced to watch a horrible old woman choke to death on her own venom is hardly worth noting.”
    A note of hysteria crept into the countess’s voice and Robert took a step backward. “Shall I fetch your abigail, my lady? You seem rather distraught.”
    “No, no, I’m perfectly fine.” She raised her head. “Would you speak to the wretched man? He doesn’t want to tell Broughton what he suspects until he is feeling more the thing.”
    “I’ll certainly speak to him, my lady. Is he still on the premises?”
    “Yes, he’s upstairs with Broughton.”
    “Then I’ll go up to them and hopefully I’ll be able to set your mind at rest.”
    The countess rose and gripped his hand with both of hers. “Thank you, Major.”
    “It’s nothing, my lady. I’m just glad to be of service in this difficult time.”
    He disentangled himself from her frantic grip and headed for the door and up yet another flight of stairs. At least now when he was finished with this nonsense he could escape directly to his own bedchamber, which was on the same floor.
    The door to Broughton’s suite of rooms was slightly ajar. Robert knocked anyway and went inside to find a man pacing in front of the fire.
    “Are you the consulting physician?” Robert asked. “You look younger than I expected.”
    “I’m Dr. Redmond.” The man came to a halt and bowed. “I only recently qualified.”
    “Oh dear.” Robert leaned heavily on his cane. “Now what’s all this nonsense about Lieutenant Broughton being poisoned?”

Chapter 6
    A n hour later, after having enjoyed the warmth of a much-needed bath, and endured Foley’s fussing, Robert was ready to leave for his meeting with the Prince Regent. He’d also taken a moment to scribble a note to Miss Harrington to ask her permission to visit her again later that day. After speaking to the physician, he was curious to see what she would make of the issue in hand. Her perspective was always interesting. He’d rely on her good sense before making any decision to proceed.
    He also instructed Foley to heat some cloths to put on his thigh, which had helped immensely; not that he would be mentioning that to Miss Harrington. He could already imagine her satisfied expression if she knew that she’d been right again.
    This time his entrance into Carlton House went more smoothly and he was escorted to Sir John’s office without any hesitation, or demand to know his business. Sir John welcomed him and offered him some refreshments, but Robert refused. Despite his personal distaste for the Prince Regent, meeting one’s reigning monarch, albeit the mad King George’s eldest son, was rather overwhelming. Of course he’d seen the prince before from afar when he’d reviewed the regiment, but never on a more private basis.
    The inner door of Sir John’s office opened and a footman dressed in the royal livery came out and bowed to Robert.
    “His Highness will see you now, Major Kurland.”
    Robert gripped his cane tightly in his left hand and followed the private secretary into the prince’s inner sanctum. The windows were tightly closed, the curtains were drawn, and the sickly smell of perfume hung over the room like a dank fog.
    “Major Kurland.”
    Robert saluted and then bowed low. “Your Majesty.”
    The Prince Regent came toward him, his remarkably podgy face wreathed in smiles. The prince was fifty-six years old and looked nothing like the portraits Robert had seen of him as a young man. Good Lord, he was even more corpulent than the cartoons made him out to be, and that was saying something.
    To his surprise, the prince reached out and took Robert’s hand between his own. “Major Kurland, our nation owes you a debt of gratitude for your outstanding courage and bravery during the Battle of