Isabella frowned. That was more compelling than his claim of Lothair’s great skills. The Lord de Montvieux poisoned! But by whom? And why?
“I have since learned that someone sent my father a gift of candied elecampane from Beaune, with the declaration that it was from me.”
Isabella raised her gaze to his.
“Within that box was a second kind of confection, one my father would have tried after the elecampane was gone.”
“You think it was poison.”
“I think it might have been wolfbane.”
She knew that herb’s deadly repute and eyed the stone. “This was why you said your father was poisoned, not because of Lothair’s healing skills.”
“I did not wish to reveal all that I knew.”
“But you confide in me now.”
He placed the stone in her hand and closed her fingers over it, leaning close to place his lips against her ear. “Because you have need of it, my lady. Promise me that you will not consume any item without touching the stone to it first.”
“You truly imagine someone will try to poison me.”
“I truly do.” Amaury spoke with such conviction that Isabella believed him. He rolled from the bed again and went to the tray of food he had brought. He took the stopper from the flagon of wine and poured a measure of it into a chalice, then returned to the bed. He offered the cup but shook his head when she would have taken it to sip from it. “First, the stone. Each and every time.”
Isabella put the stone in the wine. It did not change in appearance. “This tells me naught at all,” she complained and Amaury sipped then of the wine, holding her gaze as he did as much. He swallowed and stood before her, seemingly counting before offering her the chalice.
Aye, poison acted quickly but not immediately.
She fished the stone out of it, then took a sip of wine herself.
“A poison stone.” She frowned. “I confess that I cannot believe it.”
“There is one way to convince you.” Amaury folded her fingers around the stone again. “Keep it. Contrive a moment alone with your father’s corpse, perhaps in prayer, and find out.”
“Are such marvels common in the east?”
“Not as I know. It was given to me by an innkeeper in Outremer. A Saracen, who foretold that I would face treachery upon my return home and would have need of it.”
She supposed there could be no harm in using the stone, though some in the household might wonder at her antics. “If I test every foodstuff with it, they will ask what I do.”
“Then eat only in the privacy of this chamber. But take the stone, my lady, take it and touch it to the lips of your father. Then you will know for certain what I already suspect.”
She regarded him. “Why do you suspect poison? Because it is consistent with your father’s demise?”
“Because of how he died. It was violent and sudden, the way of poison. Did you not note how suddenly he was afflicted? And how his back arched before he fell?”
“You werehere,” Isabella said, realizing that detail only in the moment. She thought she had seen Amaury in the company and she had been right. “You were here!”
“Aye, I was.” He smiled at her with pride. “And, my lady, you were magnificent. The way you claimed the ring and demanded obeisance from those in attendance? A marvel to behold…”
She flushed and shook her head, fighting against his effect upon her. “But you were within the walls of Marnis when my father was poisoned,” she repeated and Amaury withdrew slightly, his eyes narrowing.
“Aye. I came in search of you.” His very wariness encouraged her to believe in his innocence, but she had to be certain.
“A vengeance could not be more perfect,” she felt obliged to note.
Amaury moved away from her. “You cannot think I poisoned your father?”
“I think you blame my father for the death of your father.” Isabella saw that he was affronted by her idea, but she wished he would dispel that last of her suspicion. “I heard you vow to avenge your father’s death.” She flung out a hand, aware of the disgust in his eyes but fighting against its silent appeal. “What could be a more fitting revenge?”