A fire crackled in the large marble fireplace, but its warmth did little to dispel the chill that had settled over the family gathered there. A fine silver tea service sat on a low table, completely untouched. The drawing room of the Carson mansion fell quiet after Delia had finished speaking.
Dowager Duchess Elena, the matriarch of the family, sat ramrod straight in her high-backed chair, her face a mask of disbelief.
Her sharp, intelligent eyes were fixed on Delia, who sat on a sofa beside Eric. "What in the world are you telling me?" Elena asked, her voice tight with a mixture of horror and outrage. "How could something like this possibly happen, right under our noses?" She shook her head, her perfectly styled low bun silver hair not moving an inch. "Your father was being slowly poisoned in his own bed?"
