The Sinful Scot (Saints & Scoundrels) Read online

  She quickly explained to the doctor the information the apothecary, Mr. Middleton, had provided them with, including the doctor’s alleged involvement.

  “But that is not possible.” There was a tone of certainty in the doctor’s voice that was very convincing. “I have not prescribed any chloral hydrate to Lord Fergus Campbell. In fact, I haven’t treated one of the Campbells in years, and I never would again. No offense to you, your grace, but I wouldn’t treat a Campbell for all the gold in the kingdom.”

  “Why not?” Alec asked, chiming in to the conversation. “Treating a family such as the Campbells could only be a benefit to your prestige as a doctor.”

  Doctor Howlett scoffed. “I don’t care about any of that nonsense. Look around you.” He waved his arms about his head, pointing to the fading wallpaper and cracks in the walls and ceiling. “Does this office look like I care about anything apart from treating those who need my help? The Campbells can go and get stuffed. The last time I had anything to do with them, I was bullied and threatened until I acceded to their demands. After that, I vowed never to have another thing to do with those brothers again. Which includes helping them with anything.” He stood. “And considering my vow and that neither of you is obviously suffering any malady, I think it’s time you both left.”

  “Wait, please,” Connie implored, standing up from her chair. “We’re not here to help them. Quite the opposite, in fact. Fergus is trying to frame me for my husband’s murder.”

  The doctor paused in his stride to the door. “You’re accused of murdering him?”

  “Not officially, at the moment,” Alec spoke, standing too. “But that bastard Fergus is framing her, and we need to find any evidence to implicate him, which this drug may well do.”

  Silence reigned in the room for a minute before the doctor spoke again. “I do wish I could help. I really do. But like I said, I did not prescribe anything to Fergus Campbell.”

  “You said they bullied you the last time?” Alec asked. “Can you at least tell us what that was over?”

  The doctor’s eyes probed Alec’s. “The Duke of Kilmaine threatened to have my license de-registered if I discussed the matter with anyone. I can’t afford to lose my practice—too many locals would suffer if I did.”

  “The duke is dead, Doctor.” Alec walked over to the man, stopping a foot away. “His threats hold no weight anymore.”

  The man sighed heavily before he turned toward Connie. “Were you unfortunate enough to feel the strength of his anger through his fists, as the first duchess did, your grace?”

  Connie’s face paled, and she nodded. “Yes. Very unfortunate, actually.”

  Compassion flared in the doctor’s eyes. “I am sorry for it. But I can’t say it comes as any surprise. Not after what the first duchess went through, I’m afraid.” He walked back over to his desk and sat slowly in the chair. Alec and Connie followed suit. “You see, I used to have a surgery in Shillington.”

  “That’s only a few miles out from Castle Kilmaine,” Connie said.

  “It is,” the doctor confirmed. “Which was why I was often called to attend her and treat her injuries. The duke always insisted the duchess was clumsy and continually falling down stairs or bumping into furniture, even though her injuries were consistent with being punched or kicked. But then three years ago, I was called to the Kilmaine estate in the dead of night.” The doctor reached for a glass of water on his desk, his hands unsteady as he picked it up and took a small sip. “She was dead. Her body broken and bloodied after she apparently fell from the roof of the castle.”

  “Apparently?” Alec found the doctor’s word choice interesting.

  “It was clear she either jumped or was pushed,” the doctor replied. “However, the duke was insisting I sign the death certificate stating that she’d had an accident.”

  “You don’t think it could have been an accident?” Connie asked.

  “It could have, though I think it entirely unlikely. After all, when does any lady go for a stroll along the edges of the roof of a castle?” the doctor replied. “However, if it was classed as an accident or a misadventure, then the authorities would not need to be called.”

  “Do you think he pushed her?” Alec asked the doctor point-blank. If the doctor also thought the first duchess may have been murdered, then Lady Lorelie’s assertions sounded more and more likely.

  Doctor Howlett sighed. “I honestly don’t know. Her body was far too injured from the impact of hitting the ground to be certain of anything. I suppose I thought it could be a possibility, considering the obvious abuse she had suffered previously at the duke’s hands. Though I also thought the very fact that she had continually been abused could have also proved a very good reason as to why she may have jumped from the roof. It couldn’t have been easy to live with that kind of pain consistently and without mercy.”

  “No. Not easy at all,” Connie all but whispered as she clenched her fists tightly on her lap and held herself rigidly straight in her seat.

  Alec reached over and placed his own hand on top of hers and gently squeezed it, hoping she’d realize she was safe and would never have to face such a thing again.

  She squeezed his own hand back and relaxed her posture slightly. “But Duncan threatened and bullied you until you agreed to sign the death certificate as accidental,” she said to Doctor Howlett.

  “I regret to say that he did, and I capitulated,” the doctor replied. “I argued with the duke and Lord Fergus over the matter, but the duke threatened to destroy my career and reputation if I didn’t say it was an accident, and Lord Fergus stood idly by, persuading me that it was in everyone’s best interests if I did so.”

  “How?” Alec asked.

  “Well, I couldn’t have cared less about how it would affect the duke and his brother, to be honest, but when they mentioned it would tarnish the duchess’s memory and bring shame to her family and to her daughter, I must admit the argument did hold some sway. I’d always felt sorry for the lady and her daughter, and if I had ruled the duchess’s death a suicide, then the stigma would attach to her child for life, and the duchess would not have been allowed to be buried with the formal church sacraments or be laid to rest in the family plot, either. At least, those were some of the reasons that helped convince me. Which is why I signed the certificate, listing her death as an accident. Straight after, though, I told the duke and his brother that I was done treating the Campbells any longer.”

  “Duncan wouldn’t have liked that.”

  “He didn’t,” Doctor Howlett agreed. “But he was happy enough once I signed the certificate, and his patronage mattered little to me after, as I packed up my practice and moved here. A fresh start, so to speak, even though both the duke and Lord Fergus frequented the city with some regularity. However, I chose to focus on helping those who truly needed my help and couldn’t afford it, unlike most of the aristocrats of society. A good thing, too, as their falsity in general grated upon me quite painfully. No offense intended,” he directed to Connie, a slightly sheepish look on his face.

  “None taken,” Connie replied. “I’ve reached a similar conclusion of most of those in my social circle. As I believe someone else has, too.” She looked pointedly at Alec, a small smile flashing across her face. “But tell me this, Doctor: if you had to choose, based on what you saw that night, would you have said she jumped or was pushed?”

  The doctor was silent for a moment as he rubbed his chin. “Well, if you’d have asked me that at the time, I would have said she’d jumped. But now? Well, now I’m not so sure…”

  “What has changed your mind?” Alec asked, noting the man was looking both earnest and defeated all at once.

  “About two years ago, I was approached by a man and a lady who were asking questions about her grace’s death. They suggested that the duke had a terrible habit of losing his mistresses. Apparently, several of them had run
off, disappearing without a trace, under somewhat suspicious circumstances.”

  “Were the two people you spoke to from Clan MacKinnon, by any chance?” Alec assumed the doctor had to be talking about Lady Lorelie and Angus. “A big burly man with a red beard and a rather striking young lady?”

  “No, that doesn’t match the description of the two I spoke with,” the doctor replied, and Alec returned his attention to the man.

  “It doesn’t?” There was surprise in Alec’s voice. “What did they look like, then?”

  “Um, the man was rather slim and wiry looking, with short brown hair, and an accent that suggested he was not from money. But the lady who was with him was wearing a black veil, so I didn’t even get a chance to see her.” The doctor shrugged. “Of course, I didn’t take them at their word. For all I knew they could have been seeking information with which to blackmail the duke. Not that I would have particularly cared if the duke was extorted; however, there are some things I will not stoop to, and assisting potential blackmailers is one of them. Though, after they left, it did get me thinking back to that night and questioning whether I had in fact been a party to covering up a suicide—or something more sinister. So I started looking into the disappearances.”

  The doctor stood and walked over to a cabinet along the far wall. He opened one of its drawers and pulled out a thick folder. “Here, this has the information I discovered.”

  Alec took the folder from him. “And what did you find out from your inquiries?”

  “That I should not have capitulated that night by signing the death certificate as an accident.”

  “Why do you say that?” Connie asked. Alec could hear the apprehensiveness in her voice.

  “Because in the course of my inquiries, I discovered that not only had all of the duke’s former mistresses suffered from many beatings from his fists, but also that four of them, after visiting the duke, had vanished without a trace. Never to be seen or heard from again.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A shudder of dread swept through Connie upon hearing Doctor Howlett’s words.

  She knew Duncan had been a cruel and calculating bully, but had he really had anything to do with the disappearances of four of his mistresses? Could she have been married to a cold-blooded killer without truly realizing it? She felt sick with the thought, especially because deep down, she’d always suspected a darkness inside him that went even further, beyond his beatings.

  “Did you report any of this to the police?” Alec asked, quickly flipping through the pages of the file.

  “I did,” the doctor confirmed. “But nothing came of it. Kilmaine was the duke and owner of the majority of lands around here. Whereas—well, I probably shouldn’t mention it in delicate company.” The doctor glanced over to Connie. “I have no wish to offend or distress you, your grace.”

  “I’m well past any of those emotions, Doctor,” Connie told him. She was consumed with far worse feelings, in truth. “We’re all adults here, and my sensibilities can handle the topic, particularly if it means getting to the bottom of all this.”

  The doctor nodded. “Very well,” he continued, “the duke’s mistresses were not from families of wealth or privilege, which was odd in itself. In my experience, most men of his stature select mistresses of good standing, widows and the like. But not him. The Duke of Kilmaine chose women who had little in the way of family support or influence. They were vulnerable.”

  “So no one would care or believe them if they dared tell anyone what he did to them behind closed doors,” Connie surmised. Duncan had always loved the power he’d had over her, being her husband. But a mistress could leave him if she wanted. Duncan wouldn’t have liked that loss of control. “That’s why he chose women without influence or wealth. He could control them with money, no matter how much he abused them.”

  “You say four have disappeared?” Alec asked.

  The doctor nodded. “As far as I could tell, yes. Though I stopped looking into the matter about a year and a half ago, when I realized the police weren’t interested.”

  “And you think Duncan killed these women?” Connie could barely get the words out of her mouth, as her belly started to roll in revulsion. For a minute she feared she was actually going to throw up.

  “I don’t know for certain,” the doctor said. “Though it’s highly suspicious, and then when you combine it with the first duchess’ death, it certainly seems likely.”

  “I should have done something. I should have told the authorities what he was doing to me, then perhaps those other women might not have been hurt.” A crushing guilt pressed upon her, and dimly she became aware that Alec was now crouching next to her, softly rubbing her back and gently urging her head downward.

  “Just breathe, Connie. Slowly, in and out. That’s a girl.”

  “It’s my fault…” She tried to breathe just as Alec was telling her to, but the knowledge that Duncan had not only hurt others as he’d hurt her, but that he’d possibly killed some of them, was something Connie didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget. Her chest was constricting just thinking of it.

  Alec guided her face to his, placing his hands on either side of her cheeks. “Connie, you cannot blame yourself. You were not responsible for anything that bastard did.”

  “But if I’d told the authorities what he was doing, they might have stopped him.” The thought kept hammering in her head. She should have been stronger. She should have told someone. She knew she would have to spend her life atoning for that inaction. Helping others as she hadn’t been able to help those women.

  “They couldn’t have done anything.” There was a deep sadness in his voice. “He was your husband. He could do whatever he damn well wanted to you, and the law couldn’t have stopped him. You know that.”

  Connie clenched her eyes closed. “Maybe. But still, I should have done something. I should have.”

  “Please look at me.” Alec’s voice was but a whisper, though the warmth and certainty in it had her slowly doing as he asked.

  Brown eyes were staring intently at her, and she could feel the solid strength of him radiating through them, almost as if he was willing his strength into her. It felt comforting and empowering, but it also frightened her how she was coming to trust him and rely on him so heavily.

  “You were trapped in an untenable situation,” Alec began. “And when you married him, like it or not, you became his possession under the law. You couldn’t have done anything. And the authorities couldn’t have done anything, either. But he could have.” Briefly his thumbs brushed gently back and forth over the skin of her cheeks, sending a frisson of energy through every single fiber of her being. “He could have killed you. You did what you had to, to survive, and to protect Amelie. Never forget that. You did what you had to.”

  She felt the truth of his words slowly penetrate through the fog of guilt, and gradually the knot of helplessness began to loosen. He was right. When she’d married Duncan, she had become his possession, to do with as he pleased. “The marriage laws need to be changed.”

  Alec smiled. “We don’t often agree, but aye, on this we do.”

  He looked so wonderful, crouched there beside her, doing all he could to calm her and make her realize it wasn’t all her fault. She appreciated him in that moment more than she ever had. This was a man she could easily love.

  A sudden sense of panic welled up inside her. She couldn’t allow herself to fall in love with him. She couldn’t give up her newfound and tenuous independence for an emotion that could rip one’s heart out if allowed.

  She simply admired that he was so kind and caring, still working to help others and provide medical services to those who couldn’t afford it. Very noble and valiant behavior that she appreciated, that was all. That had to be all. Connie really didn’t think she could deal with any other emotions besides that. Not now. Probably not ever.


  “Are you all right?” There was still an air of uncertainty about Alec as his eyes skimmed over her, almost trying to see inside her.

  Connie had to put his concern to rest. Otherwise he’d stay hovering, and she needed some space from him right at that instant. She was only so good an actress, and with Alec it was increasingly hard to keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

  “Yes, I am.” She was glad when her voice came out sounding confident, instead of the messy insecure fraud she felt like on the inside. She hoped he took her words at face value. “Or at least I will be once we get to the bottom of everything.”

  Alec nodded and slowly stood before returning to his chair. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Connie glanced over to the doctor, who was doing all he could to pretend to be looking out the window. “I’m sorry for that display, Doctor Howlett. I find I’ve been a bit overly emotional these last few days.”

  “Completely understandable, your grace,” the doctor replied. “You did just lose your husband, even if he was a complete bastard, if you’ll forgive me for saying.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. He was a bastard.” At least she could say that without feeling guilty. “But back to the matter at hand—do you know why your name would be on a prescription written for Fergus Campbell, prescribing a remedy that was potentially used to assist in the duke’s murder?”

  “I can’t say I do, I’m afraid,” Doctor Howlett replied. “I haven’t seen Fergus Campbell since that tragic night three years ago, so I really have no idea how my name came to be linked to a prescription of his. But to say I am greatly troubled over it is an understatement. I shall be visiting King Street Apothecary on the morrow and demanding to see the paper with my apparent signature on it.”

  “It is an unusual remedy,” Alec said. “Do you remember the last time you prescribed it?”

  “Hmm…” The doctor drummed his knuckles over the wood of his desk as he contemplated the question. “It must have been more than six months now, and to an older lady who was having great trouble sleeping after her daughter’s death. But nothing recently, and certainly not to Fergus Campbell.”