Page 72 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
Rayne closed his eyes. “I assume the drug will dissipate in a few hours.”
Wynne entered the room. “Her slumber is less disturbed. Maddy is at her bedside. She will call out if Devona awakens again.” She sat next to her father and rested her head against his shoulder. “Do you know what caused these manifestations?”
“I don’t know. There are numerous plants in the correct amount and combination that could create this effect.”
Brock ground his fist into his palm. “Someone got to her. How did we slip up? I thought you hired extra men to watch the guests, Tipton!”
“What? One man to watch every fifty? There were too many bloody guests.” He already blamed himself. Having Brock remind him was like putting an adze into his flesh.
“She should have been safe!” Brock raged.
“Tell that to your sister Irene. She should have been more selective with her invitations,” Rayne snapped back.
Sir Thomas held up a hand. “Barking at each other isn’t helping my gel upstairs. The deed is done. Tell me, Tipton, how do you think she was poisoned? Something she ate?”
“That would have been my first guess,” Rayne confessed, seizing the topic as an alternative to pounding on his brother-in-law. “I was at her side when she took her supper. She ate nothing different from the other women. If it was in her food or drink, there would have to have been a mass dosing.” He massaged the back of his neck. “No, I think our mischief maker was a little more devious. There is a three-inch scratch on her shoulder.”
Wynne confirmed it with a nod. “I saw it earlier. You think something sharp was dipped in the poison?”
Sir Thomas’s brows lifted. “Like a button, or the edge of a fan?”
“Or perhaps a ring?” Brock suggested.
“It could be any of those items or something we have not thought of,” Rayne said wearily, the strain of the evening showing on his face. “Too many people could get close to her. I blame myself.”
Wynne made a protesting sound. “We must shoulder the blame as well. It was our family who insisted on this ball.”
“If I had suspected Devona was the intended target all along, I would have refused Irene’s offer.”
Brock glared at Rayne, the fury rekindling in his gaze. “Then why did you accept, man? Hell, you encouraged my twit of a sister!”
“Because,” he starkly admitted, “I thought I was the intended target.”
***
Consciousness came slowly to Devona. She felt as if a great weight had been pressing her down into the black depths of the deepest ocean. Suddenly free, she was rising through a graying scale of elusive shadows to the bright dawning of awareness. She opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that she was in her night rail. She stared at the lace on her sleeve as if she had never seen it before.
“Praise be, you’re awake, mum!” a maid exclaimed, carrying a tray in her hands “I was supposed to try to wake you and make you eat some broth.”
Devona cleared her throat, noting it was dry. “I am not hungry. Some tea would be nice.”
“Right away, mum.” The maid placed the tray on a nearby table. “Everyone will be so pleased your senses have returned.”
Devona quietly watched the maid pour the tea. Her thoughts were still a fuzzy jumble. “Have I been sick?” She accepted the cup and took a few tentative sips.
The servant gave her a pitying look. “Poor lamb. I’ll get the master. He’ll put your mind at ease.”
Minutes later, Tipton rushed into the room. She had never seen him in such a state. His clothes were wrinkled and it appeared that his last shave had been days ago.
“What a sight! Either you have misplaced your valet or he has taken up gin.”
“Neither, my lady.” Seeing that her cup was empty, he refilled it. Sitting beside her, he stared at her like a starved man deprived of a meal. “How are you feeling?”
She pressed her lips together into a pout. “Confused. What is going on here, Tipton? Am I ill?”
“What is the last thing you can recall?”
“Well, let’s see.” She thought for a moment, “The ball, of course.” Her eyes widened at a sudden insight. “Don’t tell me I fainted in that crush? How embarrassing. I suppose you overreacted and rushed me home. Am I correct?”
