To Romance a Charming Rogue (Courtship Wars 4)

“I think… I might be sick… at any moment,” he replied weakly before making a sound between a groan and a whimper.

“Come with me…”

Quickly she took his elbow and made him stand. Then offering her shoulder to help support his weight and spare his injured knee, she led him over to the potted palms-and none too soon.

Releasing his grip on Eleanor, the prince lunged for one of the large pots and used it as a basin to regurgitate the contents of his stomach.

As he endured the painful bout of retching, Eleanor spied a nearby footman and summoned him over to assist the ailing nobleman. While the sturdy servant was aiding the prince back to his chair, the dance ended and Signor Vecchi appeared.

“What is his trouble, Donna Eleanora?” he demanded when he saw his cousin's frail state.

“I don't know,” she said worriedly, “but he just cast up his accounts. I think we should fetch a doctor.”

To her surprise, the diplomat's face cleared as he studied the prince further. “I do not believe that will be necessary, since Prince Lazzara's illness is likely not serious. He has always had a weak stomach. Don Antonio, it is extremely unfortunate to end our evening so soon-I know you were anticipating this ball with eagerness. But we should take you home at once.”

Prince Lazzara nodded as if grateful for the suggestion and wiped his mouth with the handkerchief.

At the diplomat's command, the footman enlisted another of his fellows and carefully helped the prince to his feet.

When the signor would have followed, Eleanor touched his arm to forestall him. “Signor Vecchi, I am growing concerned about his highness. He has suffered too many mishaps in recent days.”

The Italian gentleman looked puzzled. “I suspect it is mere coincidence, Donna Eleanora. No doubt this illness was caused merely by something he ate. I will take him home so that he might rest and regain his strength. Pray give my apologies to your lovely aunt.”

With an elegant bow, Signor Vecchi went after his cousin. Yet Eleanor was not satisfied with his casual dismissal of the threat to the prince. If someone was deliberately attempting to harm him, the culprit needed to be stopped immediately.

But first she needed to ascertain if there truly was a threat, as she was coming to believe.

Eleanor stood there frowning while she debated what to do, but then she recalled that Damon's physician friend, Mr. Geary, was present at the ball.

She found him a short while later conversing with several older ladies who were telling him of their physical complaints. Mr. Geary actually looked relieved when Eleanor requested a moment of his time.

When he stepped to one side with her, she explained what had occurred, finishing with her suspicions. “This last incident seems too much of a coincidence to me. Indeed, it seems rather sinister. Perhaps I am overreacting, but… is it possible someone tried to poison him?”

The physician's gaze sharpened at such a serious accusation. “Do you know if he ate or drank anything this evening, my lady?”

“He drank a cup of punch earlier. We both did.”

“But you are feeling well?”

“Yes, perfectly well.”

“When did his symptoms begin?”

“I am not certain,” Eleanor replied, “but when I arrived tonight, Prince Lazzara was already flushed and perspiring and complaining of the heat.”

Geary frowned. “There are a number of maladies and physics that may cause such symptoms. If he recovers fully, then we will know he was not poisoned.”

“But what if he does not recover?” she asked in a troubled tone. “Is there nothing we may do now to investigate?”

“I do not see how… although if I were to examine the remains of what he ingested, I might be able to make a determination.”

Eleanor's gaze arrested as a thought struck her. “Perhaps you can. Will you come with me, sir?”

She led the physician back to the corner of the ballroom where the prince had been seated. The punch cups were still resting on the floor beside his chair.

Picking them both up, Eleanor identified which one had belonged to the prince. When Geary peered into it, his frown deepened. “How odd…”

Following his gaze, she could make out what had caught his attention: There were dregs of a powdered substance in the few remaining drops of liquid in the bottom.