Chapter 4 #2
“Indeed,” he gritted out, but he did feel better, and it wasn’t entirely a lie to convince Vincent to let go of his worry. “My… my head hurts, but I do not feel as I did moments ago.”
Slowly, he rocked back onto his heels and got to his feet. He almost shrugged Vincent off when he braced his elbows, but he let himself lean on his friend.
After all, these past few years, Sebastian and Vincent had come to rely on each other completely. While they did not always share every thought that popped into their brains with one another, they were honest and forthright.
They supported each other through good and bad times. If they could not count on each other in moments like these, then they could not truly call themselves friends.
“Thank you,” he muttered. “I—I need to go home. Sleep this off.”
“You truly think someone tampered with your drink?”
Sebastian clenched his jaw, turning to face Vincent, and he nodded. “I do. I can handle my wine, as you said. But this was different. This was… I could not see straight.”
“I know,” Vincent said gently. “Your reaction was strange.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder.
“I did not notice anyone else who was impacted in such a manner.” His brow furrowed.
“Did you drink from a special bottle of claret? Is it possible no one else had a portion of what you imbibed tonight?”
It was obvious that Vincent meant well. He was not only concerned about Sebastian’s safety but was worried over the welfare of the guests at the soiree as well. But Sebastian did not have the strength or forbearance to work his way through this riddle at present.
He waved away Vincent’s questions with a dismissive swat of his hand. “If no one else reports feeling unwell, we should not burden the others or cause alarm.”
He nodded toward a couple who were exiting the house. The pair hurried down the terrace steps, cackling delightedly, as they made their way toward the path that would lead to the kitchen garden.
“I can see no reason to ruin the party for everyone, can you?”
Vincent fingered the soft fur lining of his cloak. “You may be right, my friend. The others will not thank us for spoiling their revelries. But if I cannot investigate this matter further, you have left me in a helpless situation.”
Sebastian snorted, then gestured to the front of his suit where a bit of sickness had splashed on the lapels of his waistcoat. “You feel helpless?”
Vincent sighed. “Allow me to be of service to you. Let me see you home safely, all right?”
Sebastian was already shaking his head. “I will be fine. Please, stay, and have fun at my masquerade. Lord Spencer urges you to, all right? Besides, your mask is too decorative to be discarded so early in the evening.”
Vincent crooked a half-smile at him, laughing quietly. “I am not one of your ladies to seduce, old friend. Your tricks will not work on me.”
“Nevertheless, I will see myself home. Stay, Vincent. I spent a great deal of money on this particular ball, so I would like to know that at least one person enjoyed it.” He clapped Vincent on the back, nodding, as if his friend had already agreed.
Vincent paused, wanting to disagree, no doubt, but Sebastian just patted his shoulder and moved on.
“I will see myself home,” he repeated. “Thank you for being concerned. I will send word to you tomorrow.”
“Make sure you do,” Vincent said firmly. Sebastian nodded and returned to the stone staircase and ballroom, careful not to trip.
The weakness was considerably less than before, but it still tried to knock him sideways. He kept himself composed enough to smile and nod his way through the ballroom and then out to the hallway of his secret townhouse that he used for these balls.
When he found one of his staff, he forced himself not to grasp onto the man to steady himself.
“Your Grace?” the valet asked, knowing Sebastian’s true identity; they were all paid extensively to keep such secrets. Even though Sebastian was still wearing his mask, the valet knew when to address the duke properly.
“I am well,” he assured him. “Just… ensure my guests remain entertained while I return home. Also, do see that the place is scrubbed clean as soon as everybody leaves. I fear a quantity of the drinks was tainted and…”
He paused before claiming outright that one of the people had deliberately slipped something into the wine.
“Once all my guests have safely left the grounds, have word sent round.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Sebastian nodded again as a small hiccup tickled the back of his throat. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths, then he moved toward the spot where his own carriage was parked outside.
One might think it would be difficult to slip out of a ball like this one undetected, but Sebastian had no qualms about leaving early. His staff had never once failed to help him maintain his veil of secrecy.
Sebastian marveled at their precision as he lurched toward his carriage. He knew it by the golden lining along the wheels. Surely, if any other members of the ton had spotted the coach, they would have recognized the family crest painted on the door as his.
But Sebastian’s staff was careful.
They did not park his carriage in the stables or leave it out in the open where anyone might spot the gilded exterior or the plush interior seats. Just as he advised, they crept through the shadows and waited for him in the most secluded locations.
It took Sebastian several minutes to make his way into the carriage itself, landing hard onto the bench. He slammed his fist against the roof. His driver knew it was him, and his journey began.
The motion of the carriage made his head spin harder, and he groaned, pressing a hand to his temple again. But his thoughts unraveled, and, looser than usual, went back to the fox-masked lady from earlier. Alluring and embarrassed in her feelings.
Thisbe.
The recollection brought a brief smile to his lips. Even though he had not been given her real name nor could he say with any certainty the color of her eyes, he did know one thing about this mysterious young woman.
The pendant is silver and engraved with my grandfather’s name. His Christian name, which was not widely spoken of. He—he guided me a great deal, so that is why I am conflicted.
He recalled how her shadow had moved in the light when she clutched the necklace as she spoke.
Does she know she held that pendant like a lifeline when she had grown too embarrassed?
He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to envision the pendant on its own when she had not been grasping it.
Because the lattice had kept them entirely separate, Sebastian admitted to himself that he might not have even noticed the necklace if the lady herself had not mentioned it.
He scoffed.
I was so eager to persuade her to tell me about her arousal that I did not dare ask her name.
He contemplated how the conversation between them could have evolved in an entirely different manner.
If I had asked her name, begged her to give it to me, what would have happened then? Would she have acquiesced? Or would she have fled the scene and vowed never to return to one of Lord Spencer’s soirée again?
Sebastian could not bear to think of such an outcome.
I am glad I did not ask her for her name. She might have felt that was a violation of the masquerade guidelines and then…all would’ve been lost. But now…
The carriage bounced causing an unpleasant sensation to jolt through Sebastian’s already upset stomach.
He fought the urge to pound on the rooftop and demand his driver proceed with caution.
Instead of reacting with anger, Sebastian closed his eyes and thought of the lovely fox who had shared a booth with him in the library.
Who was she?
He conjured her visage and did all he could to remember every detail about her.
Was she someone influential who had somehow known my title and name?
He quickly shook off that idea and maybe would have discarded the thought altogether had not another, more malevolent one, risen to the surface.
Had her embarrassment been a front? A distraction while she somehow tainted my drink? Did she agree to hear me read and engage in that conversation so she might distract me and drop something dreadful into my cup?
Sebastian frowned down at the opposite bench in the carriage, fighting through the fog in his brain to try to remember what really happened in that quiet room.
“Remember,” he urged himself through clenched teeth. “Remember. Could she be the culprit?”
Or am I merely paranoid?
Sebastian did not know. His head slumped back so that it rested against the velvet-covered seats. His eyes fluttered closed, blocking out the low lamplight that filtered in through the swaying set of curtain. His thoughts swam mercilessly; they swiveled and swirled and made him feel ill.
The one and only thing he did know with any certainty was that he had to find her.
“I must…” He murmured to himself. “I must… find my Thisbe.”